Happy Anniversary!

So next week, Jamey and I are heading to San Francisco to celebrate our anniversary.  We do this almost every year, because it is our favorite city.  It has many things that we both like - fog and eclectic coffee houses for me, antique electric rail cars and raw seafood cups for Jamey.  Really old-fashioned hardware stores, architectural antique centers, amazing Chinese food, NO DRIVING (I seem to have taken up a semi-permanent residence in my truck, for all of the hours I spend in it.  Safe and efficient public transportation ROCKS!!), staying in a nice hotel so I can watch ESPN in bed....Hooray!  I can't wait!  

Jamey and I have now been married for 20 years.  Unbelievable!  I didn't think I was old enough to have been married for that long.  Last night we went to our first wedding of the season (when you work with college students, you go to a lot of weddings) - it was at a winery in Paso Robles; very beautiful setting, wonderful ceremony, great couple, awesome dinner (bbq tri-tip, of course - what else on the Central Coast?).  And as Jamey and I listened to the couple and their friends, and chatted with our friends at our table, we realized.....well, what we realized is that we were such immature babies when we got married!  We both remember feeling so mature at the time (I was almost 23, so I was no child bride, or anything), but looking back, we realize what children we were.  Doing 'life' together makes you grow up, I suppose.

Now we have a child in Drivers' Ed (I for one cannot WAIT until she can drive herself to all of the places she needs to go) and a child eagerly awaiting his promotion into junior high.  And Jamey and I still like hanging out with each other!  Wow.  When I think about my marriage, the same thought runs through my mind that runs through it when I think about my kids, my friends, my family, and my home, and that is: "God has been really, really, really nice to me!"

The Good, The Bad, and the Really Ugly

At our house, we are being reminded lately that life is fragile, mostly but not always wonderful, sometimes difficult, and occasionally downright stinky.  Some good things have happened - Grace made the varsity cheer team, Jason and I went to an Oakland A's game (and they won), our yard looks beautiful and slightly unruly, and we had an alumni event over the weekend that allowed us to see and catch up with many former students and friends.  The chickens are laying eggs again, and Max actually caught 3 gophers and laid them in the grass where we would be sure to see, much to Jamey's delight.  

But, as we know but don't always really have to think about, life isn't all good - it is also difficult.  A friend left a note for his wife explaining why we was leaving her (and his two absolutely beautiful children.  A note.  Coward.  But that's another story....).  An amazing boy who graduated from Atascadero High School last year recently died of leukemia.  Sad.  Hard.  But at the same time, our very wise daughter noted, "We are bummed because we miss him, but it's hard not to be happy for him, too" (he had been battling leukemia on and off for 12 years, since age 7).  He was a pretty spectacular human being and it was humbling to be around him (check out abcchurch.org and click on "Clayton McDonald" for more information about his life).  On a very much smaller and way less important scale, there are always worries about Grace's knee, Max's limp, when our cars will need major fixing (Camry - 250,000 miles and still going strong....), Jason's little league team's hitting slump, my allergies, etc.

Of course, right before all of these difficult things happened, I was working on a Bible study and ran across the phrase "If _________happens, God is still God."  We were supposed to fill in the blank with the worst things we could think of.  The point is, and I have to remind myself every day, that God is always God, even when things stink, and even when I don't see Him at work.  He always listens and hears, always loves, and is always at work, even (perhaps most of all) quietly behind the scenes.  This is what we need to remember when life is less-than-beautiful. 

Baseball, Barbie, and Random Thoughts

The following conversation actually took place one night at our house:

News Anchor: "These are some of the stories we will be covering tonight on the news - First, a woman has a tantrum over an order of McNuggets.  Second, a middle school student starts an anti-cussing club.  And third, could it be the perfect bra?"

Jason Pappas: "Those are the stories they're going to have on the news?"

Gretchen Pappas (thinking, 'This is why I don't watch the news"): "Yep."

Jason Pappas (pumping fist): "U.S.A.!  U.S.A.!"

Allergy concoction update:  My allergies are starting to bother me at night - the vinegar/honey mixture  either a)has not kicked in yet, or b)is completely worthless, so I'm starting to take my medicine, which semi-works.  But when you are a little league team mom, scorekeeper, and snack-bar worker, you have to be outside, so you do what you can.

Speaking of little league, my self esteem took a major hit last week at a scrimmage game when I showed up wearing jeans, Ugg boots, and one of Jamey's giant sweatshirts (my goal was comfort - I had felt really sick earlier that day.  Plus it gets really cold at the field in the late afternoons).  Then a mom from the other team showed up.  She looks like Barbie.  Really.  She is just beautiful, and she is a really sweet person to boot, so you can't even dislike her.  She's really nice to everyone.  She was wearing a very fashionable coat-dress and high-heeled black boots.  I would take a picture so you could see how annoying it is to be in the same stands with someone so cute, but that might be considered stalking, so you'll just have to take my word for it.  It was okay until I heard one of Jason's teammates say, "Hey, is that ______'s mom?"  and the 11- and 12-year old boys stopped to gawk at her.  I just gave myself the little self-esteem pep talk that I give my students: "Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me..."  I'm actually doing fine, even though Jason told me recently that my Steelers' jersey makes me look fat.  He's probably just jealous because he doesn't have one.

"Sandy" update:  Jamey velcro-ed the little hula girl to the dash and has been driving 'her' around town.  Yesterday while he was parking downtown, an older man said to him, "Nice Rambler.  She purrs."  Oh, happy day!  

Countdown to Grace getting her driver's permit: about 7 months.  I mention this because she has emphatically vowed that she will NOT be driving Sandy.

Signs Of Spring

Today I began cleaning and re-arranging the front porch.  Swept off the last of the dead winter leaves and put some budding cherry branches in a big old milk bottle full of water.  Hung up the hammock (for a day, anyway....chance of rain tomorrow) and took the tarp off of my grandma's old glider.  The dog and cat are happily lying in the sun and the chickens are pecking away in the gravel driveway (they've started laying eggs again....safe from roasting for another year!  And yes, I would eat my own chickens.  Quite happily).  While I was trimming the branches, I heard several bees in the flowers, and this is a great thing, because we are having a honeybee shortage, apparently.  They've actually been advertising for people to 'host' hives on their property (no way....our yard is not big enough!) to try and build up the local bee population.  I will do my part by purchasing some local honey at the farm stand I drive past almost every day.  This year I am going to try fighting my horrible seasonal allergies (alas, I am allergic to tree pollen and I live in the oak capitol of California on Walnut Street, which is off of Pine Street....not good) with a daily dose of local honey (for the pollen) and organic cider vinegar (sounds gross, but I am determined).  I got the recipe from "Mary Jane's Farm" magazine, one of my favorites, even though my kids refer to it as 'that hippie magazine'.  Hey, nothing else has worked well so far, so I figured I'll give it a try.

Jamey has finished work on the Rambler and is currently driving it around, causing quite a stir in town - people pull up beside him at stop lights and give him thumbs up, or peace signs, or ask, "What is that?"  If I can figure out how to, I'll put some pictures here for you all to gaze upon on admiration.  It really does look great.  For a 1962 station wagon.

Jamey is my current hero, though.  He knows the way to his wife's heart - for Valentine's Day I got a Mean Joe Greene jersey.  The classic black one.  Yes, it's big, and Jason told me that it does, in fact, make me look fat, but I don't care and I will be wearing it quite a bit come September.  

After Valentine's Day is Saint Patrick's Day, one of our family's favorites, and everyone knows that always comes with NCAA March Madness, so it seems that Spring really is almost here!  Hooray - even this rain-lover is happy to see the sun and the flowers coming up!

Dumb Dog At The Beach

Tomorrow is MLK Day and a holiday from school and work.  You might think, it being JANUARY and all, that it's too cold to go to the beach, but alas, it was 80 degrees down there today, so that's where we are all headed in the morning.  Jamey is taking kids, friends, skimboards and surfboards to Pismo where the sand is soft and there are snack bars and restrooms.  I am taking myself, my running gear, and my dog to Cayucos.  A friend of mine is - no joke - turning 80, and for her birthday she is going paragliding off the Cayucos cliffs, and some of us are going to go watch, take pictures, and pray.  Just so there's never any question...when I turn 80, a nice baseball or football game would be great (with me as spectator, not participant).  

Now I know that some of you live in cold places (20 degrees in Pittsburgh today.  That's a high.  Farenheit.)  So lest you be jealous of our warmth, let me tell you that it is not always a delight to take the dog to the beach.  The first time we took Max, we didn't think to bring along fresh water for him, poor guy, so of course he gulped and gulped quite a bit of salt water.  When we left the beach, we all hopped into the car (yes, all of us in the camry, wet dog included) and began the drive up the windy road to Atascadero.  About 2 minutes into the trip, I heard what I thought was Jason spilling water all over the back seat.  Actually, it was Max throwing up about a gallon of salt water and, amazingly, over 40 apricot pits (yes, we counted).  It seems he had been eating apricots off of the ground in our back yard for a few days. So probably in an ironic way, the salt-water-induced vomiting actually helped his digestive system (you never know, though....that dog once ate my compost pile with no ill effect).  I thought that was a bad smell, but it was nothing compared to 'dead seal.'

It just so happens that we live in an area where there are harbor seals, sea lions, and elephant seals.  And of course, from time to time, one of them dies and washes up onto the beach.  On a normal beach, this is a bummer, but on a dog beach, it's extra-extra-gross.  No one knows why, but apparently it is impossible for any canine to walk past a rotting seal carcass without rolling in it (who knew?).  Max is no exception.  Mmmmmm, you haven't experienced all that life has to offer until you've driven 20 miles on a windy road in an un-air-conditioned car (these things never seem to happen when we drive our truck) with a putrid-smelling dog.  The other night one of our 'family discussion questions' was, "What is your least favorite odor?"  This is mine by a mile.  Once it makes its way into your nasal passages, it doesn't leave.  It's like it's a dreadful living creature all its own.  I feel sick just writing about it.  Yuck!

So, see?  Those of you living where it is freezing cold can indeed feel blessed.  These kinds of things don't happen in the snow.

Happy Christmas To All....

We are having a blustery and wet Christmas morning (I have beaten everyone else up, as usual).  I guess it won't be a white Christmas - there was a slight chance.  Our weather has been so nice, and mild, up to this point, that my plants and animals were confused.  Our apricot tree had buds on it - in November, mind you - and we still were getting zucchini, basil, and tomatoes from the garden up until a week ago (I know, I know, it's a blessing, but really, nobody wants to eat that much zucchini).  And one of the chickens actually started molting (she looks horrible - very comical and entertaining for the rest of us).

As I sit here and wait for the pitter patter of feet (no longer little, for I wear the smallest shoes of all of us now), I will perhaps listen to some of my favorite Christmas songs, since I am the first one to the CD player.  Bear in mind, I have extremely eclectic tastes in music. I noticed this year that although I love these songs more than all others, I can't actually sing them, because they put a lump in my throat.  I think I'm a sucker for deep lyrics and originality of sound.  First, I love "What Child Is This" (even though I have a vague memory of being forced at about age 5 to sing it with my parents up in front of the whole church - I'm sure that was worth the price of admission!), especially verses 2 and 3, and my favorite version is by Roberta Flack from the "My Christmas" CD.  I admit that the first time I heard it, I thought, "Oh my, what has she done to this song?", but now I just love it, maybe because those meaningful lyrics are easy to hear and understand.  I also love the second verse of 'O, Holy Night' : "Truly he taught us to love one another.  His law is love and His gospel is peace.  Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother, and in His name all oppression shall cease."  I'm teary just writing the words!  But my very very favorite Christmas song is an obscure song that is never played on the radio.  In fact, it is the lone 'mellow' song on a punk rock Christmas CD called "Happy Christmas, volume 2" (I was shocked to discover there was more than one!).  The song is called 'Peace Child' by The Normals.  It is a kind of re-writing of 'O Come, O Come, Emanuel'.  It talks about "the kingdom that cradles the broken" and everyone being invited to the dance, because "heaven is full of us peasants".  Yes, I torture my family with these songs every December (and sometimes beyond).  Can you imagine the delight if I could learn to play them myself on the piano or guitar?  Why, I could play them all year....hmmm....not a bad idea.  Maybe I should go now.

Well, although it looks like our Christmas will be wet, we will still spend it enjoying each other, and thinking about all of our amazing family and friends.  Really, I am related to some extraordinary people, and have some very cool friends.  So if you are reading this to keep up with the Pappas Family, have a WONDERFUL Christmas.  I suppose I'll go put some music on.....

Smart Dumb Dog

Don't get me wrong - I love my dog.  Max is big and black and loud, and he scares strangers who come to the house (Perfect!  No salespeople ever come through the gate).  He is my running buddy - he's gone with me rain, shine, cold, hot, 2 miles, 5 miles.  When my neighbors' goats escaped the yard and began wandering down the road, Max rounded them up and herded them back - apparently by instinct (I never taught him that!).  One day at the beach, he got in front of a pit-bullish-type dog that was heading for Jason.  We adopted this dog from the pound, and I consider it one of the best deals ever.  He doesn't chew or dig up the yard, or require professional grooming, and he doesn't even poop in the grass (and we have a lot of grass!) - he always goes in the dirt way back by the fence.  He has been trained with relative ease to 'sit', 'shake hands', to leave the cat and chickens alone (the fact that he doesn't go after the chickens is quite major in Garden Farms, where it seems like everyone's dog has eaten one of everyone else's chickens), and most recently, Jason taught Max to lie down as if dead when one points at him and says, "Bang!"  He keeps critters out of the yard and has caught several squirrels and gophers (this is why Jamey likes him).

So it was confusing the other Sunday when Jason and I got home and there was a dog-head-sized hole in the picket fence.  And Max was sitting on the other side of it.  Our guess is that he panicked when he heard some distant gunshots (hey, it happens in my neighborhood...).  Perhaps the most puzzling thing, though, is that there is actually an opening in the fence about a foot to the right of where the dog went through.  It would be like me, leaving my room by going through a wall (using my head!) instead of the doorway just to the right.  So we stood and looked dumbfounded at the hole, wondering how a dog so smart could do such an utterly dumb thing, wishing that one person had been home to see it happening.  

And the debate among us continues: is he smart? Or is he truly a dumb, dumb dog?