A Good Night’s Sleep

"Sleep is that golden chain that holds health and our bodies together." -Thomas Dekker

For the past couple years, my husband and I have been sleeping in my mother's old pencil post bed.

Every night, I'd tiptoe into the bedroom, and thrill all over again at the bed's beautifully geometric canopy. I'd run my hand down one of the elegantly tapered posts, and take in the dreamy lines of the headboard. As I pulled back the covers, I'd reminisce about the many nights I slept in this bed at my mom's house, feeling again the curious sensation of comfort and security that one feels when sleeping under their mother's roof.

Then I'd lie down on the mattress and begin another night of hell.

For starters, the mattress was small. A Full XL, to be technical, which was plenty big enough for my mom alone. But pile in two full-sized humans and a lovely large dog who prefers to sleep spread eagle across the entire lower half of the bed, and we are talking very small indeed. And as the last one in, I regularly found myself squeezed onto a remarkably narrow strip of real estate at the edge of the bed, yanking a few inches of the covers out from under the dog to wrap around my teetering self, and hanging on for dear life.

Now, let's address the quality of the mattress. Umm, three hundred bucks on Amazon. Ya feel me?

By the time Christmas 2022 rolled around, my husband and I were both fed up with our nefarious nighttime accommodations. Our sleep quality was miserable and the daily low back pain was pure torture. My husband, who normally avoids major purchases like the actual old time-y plague, demanded that we buy something new.

Which we did.

"Mom, I'm still sleepy. Gimme five more minutes."

Yes, we are now the proud owners of an unabashedly boughie Beautyrest king-size mattress. 

Lying down on this hybrid dream of coiled springs wrapped in memory foam is indeed the stuff of fairy tales, and although it cost approximately half of what I spent on my first car, it has been worth every penny.

But the best part of this bed is what is hiding underneath.

The Mattress Firm Power Base 600.

"I love it when you make me into the bed. Dad's pillows are super cozy."

Now let me set the record straight. 

Whenever I've heard people gush about their adjustable mattresses - let alone ones that vibrate, which my mind associates only with sleazy Magic Fingers-type beds in pay-by-the-hour motel rooms - I've been completely turned off. No need for that level of pandering for me, no sirree, I'm far too much of a sturdy, no-frills lady for a wiggly bed, for heaven's sake.

But as the salesman invited us to lie down on a sample bed, and then raised the foot of the bed five inches, I felt a miraculous shift. My knees and hips slipped into alignment with one another, and the pain in my lower back instantly disappeared. Whatttt.

"Alright, I'm getting a little sweaty. How do you people stay under these covers all night long?"

He then brought up the head of the bed by oh, maybe eight to ten inches, just enough to shift my center of gravity from my shoulders to my lower torso. In a snap, my still-aching rotator cuff suddenly felt pain-free, and I felt as if I were floating above the weight of my body. Magical.

With the subtle flip of his thumb, the salesman then activated the vibration feature, and I all but moaned out loud. As he cycled through a long list of the acclaimed (if medically unproven) healing benefits of vibration - improved circulation, reduced joint and back pain, reduced stress, boosted metabolism - I simply sighed as I felt my entire body relax, and knew without a doubt that I needed this crazy beast of a bed in my life. 

"Wait, can we do the vibrating thing one more time before we go downstairs?"

We've had our new bed for about six weeks now, and it's everything I hoped it would be. Each night, as I climb into my cozy nest and begin the fifteen minute vibration cycle that literally rocks me to sleep, I appreciate her anew. 

Sure, I miss my mom's old pencil post bed.

But what I'll never miss are the nights spent huddled on the edge of our old broken down mattress.

Now my dog, my husband, and I all have room to sleep spread eagle on our great big bed, and we are getting the best sleep of our lives. 

* * * * *

To my surprise, Gracie has adapted readily to both the raised head and foot profile of the new bed, and the thrumming sounds and soothing bumps of the vibration cycle. She still spends most of the night sleeping on the floor or in her arm chair, but she seems to thoroughly enjoy the big spread of the new bed. 

And as always, every morning she opts to lounge on the bed as I attempt to make it, which results in either me giving up and leaving the bed half unmade around her, or me pulling up the covers over the top of her, as I did on this particular day. Either way, Gracie wins. 

Birthday Magic

"I think, at a child's birth, if a mother could ask a fairy godmother to endow it with the most useful gift, that gift should be curiosity." -Eleanor Roosevelt

^ Another birthday for my fourth-born, another wintry adventure in the great out of doors. Here in the Pacific Northwest, that means wet and wild. Temperatures dipped to the low 30s, winds blew in off the Puget Sound, and dainty flurries of snowflakes dazzled our eyes.

^ Our destination was the Skagit Wildlife Preserve's Wiley Slough near Conway, Washington. We hiked on raised gravel paths, winding in and out of swampy, stream-filled slough country. Bald eagles and blue herons, countless ducks and soaring seabirds kept us amazed and entertained.

^ Gracie was granted full off-leash privileges and while she spent most of her time hiking along the soft and dry trails, she couldn't resist a few tromps through the deep mud and nasty brambles of the rough terrain. A hunting dog's gotta do what a hunting dog's gotta do. 

I woke up this morning, the day of my fourth-born's birthday, looked out the window, and gasped in pure delight.

The sky was filled with softly swirling snowflakes. 

They danced through the air, 

gently floating up and down as if they were in no hurry at all to land, 

and filling my eyes with magic.

* * * * *

Birthday magic is a real thing. 

No, not so much for the birthday person themselves, who certainly may enjoy a wonderful day of special treats and good wishes, but more for the mothers (and fathers too) who experience the original Birth Day. 

Birthday magic fills my heart on those four mornings each year when I marvel (still) at the incredible events of my daughters' births: 

the intensity of physically moving them into the world

the sensation of holding their tiny bodies against me

the strange idea of them as little humans now completely separate from me

the miracle of their very beings. 

These memories stir up in me a feeling of lightness, of swirling joy, of happiness suspended in air.

They feel like a sky full of softly swirling snowflakes

And my heart fills, once again, with birthday magic. 

* * * * *

I share these thoughts with loving respect to mothers (and fathers too) of adopted children - magic surely fills their hearts on the days when they first meet their children too. But my experiences, as I share them here, are with giving birth so I simply write from what I know. 

A Valentine From Burt

^ What the world needs now is Valentine's Day spirit, every day of the year. 

No, we don't need another mountain

There are mountains and hillsides enough to climb

There are oceans and rivers enough to cross

Enough to last till the end of time.

My mom bought a new record album.

This was a fascinating and highly unusual turn in my eight-year-old life 

I paid rapt attention.

We drove home from the store.

She lowered the album on the spinning turntable and dropped the needle.

I listened.

What the world needs now

Is love, sweet love.

No, not just for some

But for every, every, every one.

We didn't talk much about love in our family.

My philandering father had stretched that precious commodity to the breaking point..

I didn't dare to ask questions.

But the man who wrote the song on my mother's new album was a great help to me.

His words were simple and clear: everyone deserves love.

I understood exactly.

Last week, just before Valentine's Day, Burt Bacharach died

He left this world for a place full of the love that he explained to me, all those years ago. 

I thank him for his gift.

* * * * *

The album was Reach Out.

The composer was Burt Bacharach

The song was What The World Needs Now Is Love

The year was 1967.

 

Weekly Reader

^ This magazine has more sticky notes than as porcupine has quills. But I'm not complaining.

Maybe it happened decades ago when I found myself reading more board books and bedtime stories than anything else.

Or maybe the change came when my waking hours were consumed by overseeing my homeschooled daughters' essays on The Scarlet Letter and posters displaying the achievements of the Wright Brothers.

At the very latest, it happened in 2013 when I had eye surgery that vastly improved most of my vision but diminished my ability to read tiny, smudgy lines of magazine text.

But somewhere along the line, I fell out of my lifelong habit of reading a weekly news magazine.

Ever since I met him, my husband has faithfully read every word published in every week's edition of The Economist. He makes quite a ceremony of it, devoting his Saturday mornings to this festival of reading, complete with checklists where he ticks off each article completed. Occasionally, he sends me links to interesting stories.

And honestly, I've been pretty jealous. I'd really like to get back on the weekly news magazine train. 

Oh, sure, I've tried. Countless times over the years, I've picked up a weekly issue, flipped open the cover, and attempted to plow through from front to back. I start out with a full head of steam, raring to go. Then...between the articles on monetary policy in the EU and the latest on China's military prowess (snore and double snore) and my poor eyeballs' struggle to focus on the tiny letters, my determination disappears like a runaway train.

Ah well, try and try again. That's what I always say.

So last month, I came up with a new, never-been-tried-before plan. 

As my husband was stretched out on the couch enjoying his weekly read, I handed him a stack of sticky notes. "Pick two or three articles that you think I'd enjoy, and slap a sticky note on them."

That's exactly what he did.

I opened the magazine, flipped to the designated articles, and read them.

Interestingly, he has a pretty good sense of news topics that interest me.

Marketing strategies for Millennials and Gen Zers.

Teaching techniques for third-world countries.

How the new CEO at Microsoft may redefine the business.

The future of streaming.

I also doubled down on my desk lamp reading situation, and now I can actually read at any time of day or night. Miraculous!

We're now several weeks into the experiment and it's chugging along very nicely. As I read each week's specially selected articles, I pull off the sticky notes and stack them in a neat pile on the corner of my desk. My husband finds them there and uses them to highlight articles for me in the next week's issue. 

What started as two or three highlighted articles per issue has now blossomed into ten...or nearly twenty. Looks like my husband is enjoying my new weekly reading project just as much as I am. 

2022 Ornament Of The Year

"Creativity comes from a conflict of ideas." -Donatella Versace

I lay awake in bed, tossing and turning, my brain whirling with ideas.

The time was mid-November and like a proper elf in Santa's workshop, I had Christmas on my mind.

Christmas ornaments, to be exact.

^ Ta da! Here's the finished collection for my immediate family. 

Though I later decided to make one for each of our eight past and present pets. 

On the one hand, this was a familiar process. For the last 38 years, since I've been making homemade ornaments to give to my extended families, this front-end creative brainstorming has been a necessary - and mostly enjoyable - part of the process. But this year, I was feeling a bit more stuck than usual. 

Early on, I'd landed on the idea of using some of my husband's discarded tartan plaid flannel shirts. Don't worry; he has a worthy collection of keepers and I already had four more brand new models tucked away to give him for Christmas. When I asked him if he might have a few worn shirts to donate to my cause, he quickly said yes.

^ The process begins with cutting squares from my husband's old shirts. He gave me six different patterns and yes, he knows the proper Scottish clan name for each one. 

With my fabric in hand, freshly laundered and ironed, it was time to dial in my design.

I'd seen quite a few ideas that involved

putting the plaid fabric in small embroidery hoops, 

wrapping strips around styrofoam balls, or 

gluing it onto a wooden shape, 

but I had my heart set on sewing. 

I kinda wanted to work an initial into the design. 

With felt? 

Embroidery? 

Or should I cut the fabric into the letter shapes and sew them like little alphabetical pillows?

Oh, and did I mention that I needed to whip up 53 of these babies in a month's time?

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The Christmas Ornament Workshop clock was quickly counting down the hours till mailing day, and I felt some serious pressure. I do not know how those North Pole elves cope.

^ For most of the ornaments, I used red felt, which was a) the color that coordinated best and b) the most Christmas-y. But my daughters always like to have some extra latitude in designing their own ornaments, so I broke out some shades of green and white.

So I lay there in the dark, my mind whizzing with dozens of half-baked ideas, when something happened.

Suddenly, I felt pure calm.

And in a snap, the vision of my new ornament design came into perfect focus.

I saw exactly which materials I would use. 

How I would design them and cut them and sew them together.

I imagined what tools and supplies I would need.

I remembered every single sewing technique I'd ever learned from my mom and grandma.

I knew exactly how I would bring my vision to life.

^ Ready for sewing.

And guess what.

After many a night of three a.m. sewing sessions and a half-dozen needle pricks, to my complete and utter satisfaction, my 2022 Ornaments of the Year were done.

Every single one turned out exactly as I had imagined. 

^ Ready for the sleigh.

As a proper elf does, I wrapped them up and sent them off in a flurry, across the country and around the world. 

^ d is for Diane. 

But I kept one for myself. And every time I look at it, I remember that beautiful moment of clarity and calm when my vision flashed into being. 

And I can't wait to do it all again next year. 

* * * * *

For more Ornament of the Year posts, check these out:

2022

2021

2020

2019

2018
2017
2016
2015
2014

2013

2012

2011

2021 Ornament Of The Year

"Hi folks, it's Tobias here from HomeadeGiftsMadeEasy dot com."

And so began another year of Christmas production at the Streicher elf workshop.

As always, around Thanksgiving, my fourth daughter and I perused our options for the design of our latest batch of homemade Christmas ornaments. I've been making them for my extended family since I got married, and in recent years, my youngest has enthusiastically joined my team.

We wanted simple and fast, charming and cute, not too expensive, and if you don't mind, something that would use up supplies already on hand.

Hmm. Origami, we mused. The Japanese art of paperfolding Always a favorite with us.

Hmm. Stars. Paper stars. We've enjoyed making big ones like this. 

But for an ornament, those bad boys are way too big. 

Hmm. 

And that's when we hopped on YouTube and quickly came across Tobias. His paper stars were neat and tidy, and could be adapted to just the right size. We transitioned promptly into production mode.

Now, not to brag, but when it comes to origami, I am no slouch. I have learned to patiently strive for the crisp corners, knife-sharp folds and careful attention to detail that make these babies truly shine.

My daughter, however, is a black-belt origami Sensei. Not only does she fold with molecular precision, but she is fast. Lightning fast. In the time it took me to fold one of these stars, she could whip out four or five perfect specimens, and I bow to her superior skills. 

By comparison, I have to say, Tobias's folding chops came in at a distant third. But he taught us the proper sequence of folds and for that we were most grateful.

So our first task was to fold about a hundred paper stars. We used tracing paper, which has an excellent foldability, and were thrilled with their soft feel and sharp points.

But you know, a plain white star is not quite fanciful enough for us, so embellishments were in order.

Tapping into our ample supply of Christmas-themed beads, we hit upon a winning strategy:

Punch two tiny holes in the center of the star.

Push an eight inch piece of gold wire from back to front in one of the holes.

String a few beads onto the wire.Three seemed to be the perfect number.

Loop the wire through to the back side.

Meet up the two wires, twist them gently together.

Slide them up through the paper to the top; fashion a hoop.

Trim away the ends.

And so another set of holiday trinkets was slipped into padded envelopes and mailed out across the country - the world! 

Tobias, my origami friend and teacher, I should have sent one to you.

* * * * *

For more Ornament of the Year posts, check these out:

2022

2021

2020

2019

2018
2017
2016
2015
2014

2013

2012

2011

Groundcat’s Day

"I am a sleepy fellow. I will take a nice long nap the first chance I get." -Ruskin Bond

And also Sirius Streicher. 

Look, he's not exactly Punxsutawney Phil but on this Groundhog Day, my cat's message is clear: It's still winter. Go back to bed.

And if there's anyone who knows how to do cuddly cold weather naps, it's Sirius. Oh sure, he's all for a sunshiny spot in which to curl up, but what this guy really craves is cushy comfort. A soft wool rug in the hall, the fuzzy throw on the couch, and a plush microfiber blanket top his list of snug nap spots. 

So go ahead, Sirius, luxuriate in your naps, day in and day out, as if every day was the same soothing blur of delicious snooze sessions. And for the next six weeks, may we all follow your blissed out lead. 

A Celebration Of Growing

"The older I grow, the more I distrust the familiar doctrine that age brings wisdom." -H.L.Mencken

"Don't go through life. Grow through life." -Eric Butterworth

Here's a solid fact: I love a good new year's resolution. Nothing beats that crisp, clean, turn-of-the-page feeling I get at the start of a new year, and I'm always game for a challenge, a motivation, a dare, if you will, to make my life just that much better. 

But at the same time, I'll be the first to admit that I have no idea what is good for me. 

If there's anything life has taught me, it's that it's full of surprises. And I'd hate to miss out on any fantastically serendipitous new things that may land in my path because I'm so fixated on wiping down my bathroom counters every night or preserving my streak on Duolingo.

For a couple years now, I've struggled to reframe my resolutions so that instead of blinding me from living in the moment, they'll open me up to whatever is happening around me on any give day.

So this year, I've decided that my new year's resolution is to grow.

Whenever my second-born comes to visit, she's got a nice long list of interesting things for us to do. In December, near the top of that inventory was a trip to a new greenhouse. 

Well. It's not so much a new greenhouse as a new-to-the-public greenhouse. At her alma mater, University of Washington, the Department of Botany decided to open up their learning labs to the world - at least on Thursday afternoons - and we gladly stopped by for a sneak peek.

Now I've strolled through my share of plant stores, greenhouses and conservatories, but this was like nowhere else I've been. Oh sure - there were plenty of green things growing in a steel and glass box. 

But without the constant pressure of (a)  asking myself, "Should I buy this?" or (b) reverently adoring the plants from a safe distance while keeping my hands very much to myself, the atmosphere here on campus felt casual and comfortable. 

These are working greenhouses. The plants get plenty of hands-on love and attention from their students and we, the public people, are very much trusted to treat them with that same loving respect. 

I mean, how could anyone not lovingly gaze at these fuchsia fringes and marvel at their delicate hold onto their leaves 

Or respect that massive Jabba the Hutt base of this enormous ponytail palm that is apparently trying to digest my daughter? These plants are full of miracles. 

* * * * *

And so this year, I will trust myself to grow. I'll marvel at the delicate places where I hold onto life, and I'll lean into the massive places of deep trust. 

And I'll expect to see miracles. 

* * * * *

 Read more about my 2022 Christmas celebrations. 

A Celebration Of Love

A Celebration Of Peace

A Celebration Of Thrills

A Celebration Of Growing