The Light of Winter, day 12

The Light of Home: books everywhere. We're big readers here -- the underside of the coffee table is loaded with books.
And now three of us can read them to the fourth.

The Light of Winter, day 11

It still makes me so happy that The Boy and TwoBoo love each other like they do. I expect that Light of Love will be all but snuffed out in a few years, probably. Right about the time TwoBoo can snatch a toy from The Boy and run like hell.
But for now, I just enjoy how eager The Boy is to help TwoBoo, even though the baby weighs about half of what The Boy weighs.

The Light of Winter, day 10

I'll make these next few posts quick, since I shoulda posted them before Christmas. Ahem.

I think this year was the first one might've detected the Light of Anticipation in our house. This year, The Boy has asked real questions about what Christmas is actually about, starting with when we could put up Christmas stockings.
Those were the questions I could answer easily, like why we didn't have a Christmas tree up (officially: because we didn't want TwoBoo to pull the tree onto himself. Realistically: because we didn't want to spend all our time running interference between TwoBoo, a Christmas tree, and a thousand crushable ornaments).

Some questions were much harder, like Joseph's relationship to Jesus (which is easy to answer, until you add in why Daddy believes one thing about Jesus while Mommy believes another). Good thing I started going to church again, so I could try to answer these questions for myself before The Boy began asking. Thinking of it that way, I guess the light of anticipation has been shining in this house since this summer.

The Light of Winter, day 9

As LK was saying, we generally don't have visual depictions of the light of compassion handily available. But this one pretty much does the job.

This photo of an older man comforting a child is from the Library of Congress.

I'd used it in the artist book I started in another one of LK's classes, a book I titled Someday (after the Sugar Ray song). At the time I chose the picture because it expressed my feeling lost after my father's death.

But originally, the photo reminded me of a time I got lost in a theme park back East, during a visit with my godparents on the East Coast. I was maybe seven or eight, and I was terrified that the theme park would close down at the end of the day without anyone coming to get me. And I had no idea of how to get to my godparents' house, let alone cross-country to my own home.

The older man in the photo reminded me of my godfather calming me down once he arrived at the lost-and-found booth. He didn't yell or get angry that I'd gotten separated from the group. He just wiped my tears and bought me an ice cream cone.

My godfather died seven years ago. But the kindness of not getting upset at me, and just carrying on with the day, still makes me feel good.

The Light of Winter, day 8

It could not have been easier for me to decide which photo I wanted to use for today's Sunlight and Shadow prompt. Remember the Grand Tour we took two years ago down in LaLaLand? We stopped at Travel Town, a train museum, because The Boy was still heavily into Thomas the Tank Engine.
Here he and his oldest cousin (the taller shadow) are jumping on a metal plate between sections of train track. Mid-December, but of course in LA the sunlight is still bright and the shadows are defined.

It's good to know the winter solstice means the days are about to get longer. But it takes a while to notice here in Extra-Blue State, since the first three or four months of those longer days will be gray.

If you're enjoying these photo prompts (when I can get off my tuchis to post them), you can see mine here, and those of the other participants at LK Ludwig's blog The Poetic Eye. Say hi when you visit! Especially when you follow me on Google. Click on the widget at the right side of the page.

The Light of Winter, day 7

The eyes: an opening to the light inside, your inner light. Are they deep-set, prominent, almond-shaped, doe-like? Are the pupils dilated or pinpoints? Is the expression gentle or hardened, open or distant?
Or is my inner light just the product of two other people who saw the light in each other's eyes?

The Light of Winter, day 6

Takes no deep thought to understand The Heart's Light. The only question is which picture to use.
My heart's light, and the light of my father's heart. This picture of my dad and grandmother was taken in her apartment, about six months before he died in 2006. My grandmother turned 90 this year.

The Light of Winter, day 5

I'm behind on posting, but here's my response to the Light of the Moon and the Stars.
Above is TwoBoo at age two months, sleeping on Daddy's chest.

My small people are my moon and stars. (Which is a good thing, because they're still at the age when they wake up unexpectedly while the moon and stars are still out.)

But seriously, LK asks a good question: "What stars exist in the firmament of your life that remind you to think beyond yourself?"

Light changes what it touches. Whatever happens to The Boy and TwoBoo changes me as well. Sometimes I feel like I'm living three lives at once, trying to anticipate what they'll need to feel safe and happy. And sometimes I just watch the glow from their skin. They are here, I am here, and that is enough.

The Light of Winter, day 4

Today's prompt: The Light of Friendship. Thought I'd show you a picture from my skeeeny skinny days. (I didn't have an eating disorder. I was just naturally bony for many years.)

Photo courtesy Wendy Nakatani

Wendy and I have known each other since we were roommates during UCLA freshman orientation in 1987. We've been close friends ever since.

If it weren't for her picture-taking, there'd be next to no documentation of my undergrad experience. This picture is from Wendy's graduation ceremony; UCLA's undergraduate division is so huge that they have to hold several graduation ceremonies to allow every new grad to walk the stage.

The Light of Winter, day 3

Welcome to the watery light of a Pacific Northwest winter. This is the Light of the Ordinary and the Everyday for me.
Fortunately, whatever light leaks out of the clouds makes its way through the skylight in my office building. A skybridge connects one end of the oval to the other on each floor, so all the floors get some of the natural light. I don't have an office window, but I don't have to put on a coat to see daylight during my workday.

The Light of Winter, day 2

Winter is relatively mild around here, usually with only three or four days of snow. It's mostly gray and damp. I'm not really looking forward to the sun setting a little after 3 in the afternoon, but it's coming. So it was nice to see LK Ludwig's Light of Winter photo prompt. This evening we're talking about the Miracle of Light.Aaaaaaaand speaking of miracles and light: we're midway through Hanukkah. The Boy celebrated it with the class bear BJ, and wrote this in the class journal:

December 15, 2009
BJ spent the fifth night of Hanukkah with [The Boy] and helped him with the blessing over the candles. [The Boy] and Daddy changed BJ's clothes and brushed his teeth, then BJ slept in [The Boy's] room, hanging out with the other bears.

Okay, technically this isn't my photo, it's The Husband's. But he took it tonight, and I couldn't let this prompt about the miracle of light slip by without a reference to Hanukkah.

For those of you not lucky enough to be married to a Jewish guy who makes sweet potato latkes (OMG, you just don't even know how good they are), Hanukkah is the festival of lights. You can read more about it here.

Jewish holidays start at sunset. Tonight the sun set at 4:18pm.

What we've been up to

I've decided it's more important to let you know what The Boy and I have been up to, instead of hanging holiday ornaments, and getting presents wrapped and shipped. Takes the pressure off.
At the last minute, I closed my eyes and jumped into vending at my office's holiday craft fair. My friend Stacie Kentop was one of the organizers.Those are her mandalas over there, right across the aisle.As in previous years, I altered composition notebooks to sell. This time I made a much simpler design with gaffer tape and personalized tarot cards, and voila -- the Recession Tarot Card notebook. A repurposed Fixer card, and another I called The Unlocked Door. 'Cause you don't know if an opportunity is locked away behind closed doors until you try the doorknob, no?
With the previous designs, I kept getting craft fair visitors picking up the notebooks and admiring them by saying, "Oh, that's too nice to use." Nonononono -- the point is that you have something nice to use! (!@#$%^!!)

The Boy, TwoBoo and I also visited Stacie at the Lowell Art Works, a local gallery which held their annual "art-tastic holiday shopportunity." TwoBoo was a little muzzy from his nap, but he seemed to enjoy Stacie's mandalas.
And The Boy and I went to his art studio the Creation Station to get our art on for a few hours. It's one of those places, like SCRAP in Portland, in which you can use recycled odds and ends to make art. He had such a good time I'm considering having his next birthday party there. (Don't tell him, though. He can read now, but he's not doing a lot of websurfing. So if he hears about this, I'll know you guys were talking to him.)