Creativity

At what point does creativity become unimportant in adult development?

Our last son anticipated his last Cub Scout Pinewood Derby, and my husband and I were not heartbroken to see the end of that era. Mark, on the other hand, along with the other little Scouts who had carved, sanded, and painted their rectangular blocks of pinewood, arrived at the race just as excited, proud, and hopeful as the rest of our boys once did. Much to his dismay, however, when he placed his car on the official scale, it weighed too much. 

Our family huddled. Together, we decided the only thing to be done at that point was to shave off chunks of wood, one cruel slice at a time. Watching his car being whittled down, Mark simply remarked, resignedly, “I should have just made a motorcycle," We all chortled, surprised and delighted by his good humor and good nature. He was neither overwhelmed by disappointment nor overcome by failure. For better or worse, this was simply a creative experience.

The perfect gift

I'm convinced watermelon was the forbidden fruit

Twice in my life, I’ve been given a whole watermelon for my birthday. One year, when I was a young teenager, my mom said, with a twinkle in her eye, “Go up to your room. Your birthday present is on your bed.” And there sat a green watermelon with a big, red bow tied around it. Because it was all mine, I was allowed to eat the heart right out of it—guilt-free.

I'm just not that cute anymore

These days, bloggers have so many options to help their sites look cute

I keep finding very cute-looking blogs designed with curlicues and spiffy buttons and whoknowswhatall. My blog, as you can see, is just not that cute. It’s . . . well, utilitarian. I mean, it gets the job done, but it lacks the fun, and foo-foo young’uns these days seem to pull it off with ease. I got to hand it to them, though. Their blogs are delightful and they’re designed to last.

That permanence is more than I can say for some of the very cute food items people keep trying to teach me to make. Not long ago, I was in a class where we learned to make not one but three types of adorable little cupcakes—all with a summer theme: fireworks, a campfire, and a bear chillin’ in water on a swimming ring. I actually loved putting them together and using the decorations and frosting someone else had bought and prepared, then bringing them home to show them off to my family. I knew darn well those were cute cupcakes, but the edible kind of cute just isn’t very appreciated around here. I suppose that’s one of the reasons I’m just not that cute anymore.

Time is worth more than money

Spending time with a child is a lasting gift

I’m sure mine was a familiar scene: I sat in the doctor’s office waiting and waiting and waiting. In the meantime, I had to fill out the new patient paperwork, which made me agree to pay $50 for any missed appointment or for neglecting to cancel an appointment 24 hours in advance. The irony is hard to miss. Apparently, the doctor’s time is worth much more than mine. If I had known I was going to have to wait an hour and 15 minutes before being seen, I would have added my own little clause to that document: I will agree to pay you according to your terms if you will agree to pay me for my time waiting more than 15 minutes for you.

He’s a really nice guy, this doctor, but business is business, and for him time is money. Has he ever wondered what time is for the rest of us? Time is one of the few things we each have, but it’s both limited and uncertain. In other words, at least in this life, we’re all going to run out of time sooner or later, and for some “sooner” comes unexpectedly.

Just 3 reasons I love my kids to swim

I love what swimming has done for our family

Even though I grew up in Southern California, I was not a strong swimmer. Ironically, I took my only formal swim lessons in a little Idaho town where I was staying with my dairy-farm cousins one summer. Other than those lessons, I learned to swim by being tossed in our next-door neighbor’s pool and dog-paddling my way through childhood. 

Swimming took on new meaning 12 years ago when my own children started swimming competitively for the Mission Valley Barracudas. Tomorrow they will, once again, participate in the East Bay Swim League Championships. Today, along with all the other 1200 swimmers, they’ll go to the Olympic-size pool at Chabot College to get used to the deep water, high blocks, and multiple lane lines. Today is also my first time not going with them to the day-before warm-ups. Yep, they’re growing up, and I kind of miss being part of the excitement and pre-meet buzz.

Paying it forward

My two sad sisters and a flat tire

“I have a flat tire!” my sister wailed, flailing her arms as she ran toward my car. She was trying to wave us down before we drove out of the parking lot. My sisters and I had intentionally tried to avoid the snarly L.A. traffic by staying at Santa Monica Beach until evening. Now, after a full day of activity with more than a dozen tired and hungry teenage nieces and nephews, our trip home would be further delayed. However, instead of complaining, the four strapping young boys in my car immediately started taking on the problem as their own. “I’m a Boy Scout!” and “We know what to do,” and “We’ve got this, guys!” they shouted. I pulled over, the doors flew open, and out jumped our ad hoc repair crew.

Just 3 ways I want to be like Mom

My mom, 91, is fit as a fiddle and happy as a clam

She’s indecisive; I’m decisive. She’s a worrier; I’m not. She’s compassionate; I’m not that either, unfortunately. But she is my mom. And even though we’ve always been different in many ways, I hope to become like her in all the good ways. Here are just three:

Identity crisis

Mark with his birthday waffles and ice cream

For a few minutes, his name was Travis. You would think, after waiting three and a half years for our fifth child to join us, we could have come up with the right name for him. But when he arrived, his identity and name remained a mystery. 

It didn’t take long, though, to figure out this baby boy was not Travis at all. He was Mark. In naming all the others, I let Ken have the final say, but this time I insisted our boy take his name, “Kenneth,” at least as his middle name. After all, I’d borne the man four sons and, by gosh, one of them was going to carry his father’s first name.

Today Mark Kenneth is 14 years old and is, coincidentally, much like his father. Yet, although we've known him a decade and a half and feel certain we got the name right, we’re still figuring out who he is. 

Just 3 obsolete words deserving a comeback

Time to bring back some zinger words

The other day I came across a very fun article suggesting 20 obsolete English words that deserve a comeback. To be sure, those words were outdated, but they were fun to say aloud and interesting to learn about. Here’s my vote for just three:

1. Brabble: (verb) – “To quarrel about trifles; esp. to quarrel noisily, brawl, squabble” – Now, where was this word all those years when I needed it? “Stop brabbling about which Marvel Comics superhero is the coolest!” I don’t know about you, but we have more brabbling at our house than I’d like to admit. So, even though it’s a “dead” word, I have a sneaking suspicion I’m going to have plenty of opportunities to help this one resurrect. As a bonus, you can also use “brabble” as a noun. What a great word to dish out right in the midst of some stupid debate—I mean brabble.
2. Deliciate: (verb intr.) – “To take one’s pleasure, enjoy oneself, revel, luxuriate” Much like the word “delicious,” this one seems as if it should apply mostly to eating. Happily, though, its meaning is much broader. It also helps describe the behavior of the Epicureans in my life. You know, the ones who not only like peeled grapes but find them even more enjoyable while reclining in their silk pajamas with Bach symphonies playing in the background. 
3. Kench: (verb intr.) – “To laugh loudly” Here’s a great verb to describe being hit by one of those hearty, unexpected guffaws that can both surprise and embarrass but ultimately delight you. Phone calls with a certain friend are sure to make me kench, and I always feel better after talking to her.

And the runner-up is Freck  (verb intr.) – “To move swiftly or nimbly” To think, I’ve been frecking all my life and never knew it!

Hitting singles

Singles and home runs both get us around the bases

Years ago someone asked the conductor of the San Francisco Symphony how many hours the orchestra had to rehearse for a performance. We all waited for his concise answer, anticipating a specific number. “Well, there’s the short answer and the long answer,” he said. “Together, we rehearse about 10 hours, but these musicians have been practicing for years and years, developing their talents.” In other words, they had to hit lots of “singles” before being part of any “home-run" performance.