334. Wildlife

I have always admired those individuals that have the patients to take photographs of wildlife. It requires rising early or staying out late. Hauling an expensive telephoto lenses that weigh more than a small child on a 20-mile hike. Sitting in the bushes and waiting for a shot that may never come. I am not sure… actually I know… that I could never do it. So this week in Joshua Tree National Park I hope that I get lucky and spot a coyote, or owl, or wolf, or frog. But if I don’t, I was successful in taking their photographs at the Sonoran Desert Museum last week. It is one of my favorite zoos because the cages are constructed in a way that it is hard to even know that there is a fence between you and the animals. It makes for great picture taking without the long hike, long lens, or long wait.

333. Back to the Future

A surreal moment - the kids found the movie Back to the Future on TV. The movie was filmed and set in 1985 and the main character travels back to 1955 to see his parents as teenagers. Creepy thought. Anyway the last time I saw it was in 1985- I wasn’t married and I didn’t have children. It was odd watching the movie with my own kids. They laughed at the 1980’s fashions. They laughed at the thought of their parents falling in love (I am with them), acid washed jeans, teased bangs, and down vests. Back to the Future Part II imagines 2015 and even though it was filmed in 1985 – we are so close to the futuristic date now. In Part II the town square has cars that fly, hover skateboards, and interactive holographic advertisements. We are quite there yet.

332. Next Step

Today, I cooked dinner at Curtis’ father and stepmother’s house. As I cooked Abbey sat at the table and worked with her Grandma Peggy on sewing a pillow for her new bedroom motif. All of a sudden I had flashbacks of working with my own step-grandma (the only grandma I knew on that side of the family.) It would be fantastic if Abbey could know and remember her biological grandmother, but unfortunately fate makes that impossible. My mother isn’t able and Curtis’ mother has passed. It is nice to see her be able to bond with a grandma.

331. Connect

My father-in-law received a new X-Box 360 Connect for Christmas and I have been watching the kids play it all week. Of course it is a lot of fun, but it is also pretty amazing and freaky at the same time. The device is a small camera that sits under the TV and is pointed back at the player. It reads the players position and allows you to control the character in the video game simply by moving your body. One programmable function recognizes the players body height and shape as soon as you walk in front of the TV. So when Abbey starts a game it knows that she is playing instead of Katie. If they trade places the avatar representations of them also trade places.  Creepy! In order to select game options the girls just hold their hands up in the air and sweep menu choices left and right to make selections. Remember Tom Cruise in Minority Report? It is in the living room.

The best part? The next morning both my daughters experienced muscle pain from playing so much. That has never happened with a video game before. This game may actually help with the childhood obesity epidemic. I think I have to run out and get one for our house.

330. Still

For a rare moment I was alone this morning. Curtis was in the shower. Katie was in the shower. And Abbey was getting dressed. But for 5 minutes it was just me and a cup of coffee and no urgency, no meeting to get to, and no bell about to ring. I started at the light dancing off the couch and listened to the sounds around the house and got lost in thought. For most people this would be pleasant experience but for it caused great anxiety. “Nothing to do” sends me into a panic…I start to pace. I suppose it is one of the reasons that I like to stay busy.

329. Nothing of Value

We knew that our home had been broken into during our vacation. Our neighbor called with the bad news a couple days ago. We knew that much of our electronics were left in tack and we also knew that even though all the rooms, cabinets, closets, and dressers had been gone though, the house was not ransacked. So we didn't run home, or cut the vacation short.

Tonight when we returned was our first chance to look through the home personally. As our neighbor described most of the house was ok. The dresser drawers were half way open and my neatly folded clothes messed up, but generally everything was in place. The cameras, play station, lap top, and even credit cards, jewelry, and money were left alone, but a small box that belongs to my husband was taken. The box didn't contain anything of monetary value. But for Curtis its contents was truly valuable - the box held small momentos like concert ticket stubs and flyers that serve as important reminders and memories. We can't understand why anyone would want those things. Why break into a home for someone's momentos? Oddly enough the violation seems even worse than when I was hoping my camera wasn't taken.

This was the first vacation that we choose to bring our pit bull with us. As we left a couple weeks ago I mentioned to Curtis that I was nervous about bringing her.  I noted that I always felt the house is secure with her around.

328. Happy New Year

Hoping 2011 is easier emotionally, psychology, and physically than 2010. I am not sad to see the year over and looking forward to the wax - enough of the wane. Happy New Year and a big thank you to all my loyal readers...all three of you. Only 37 days to go!

- Posted using BlogPress for iPad (now that it is available for iPad!)

327. Violated

Last night while we were away from our house someone broke in. The thief didn't take too much, thankfully, but the idea of someone in our house, riffling through our things is a horribly violating feeling. He came in through a window in the kitchen. By the appearance of doors and drawers look through most of our things. We haven't made it home yet to inventory the lost, but the best we can figure, the thief took our Christmas presents that had just arrived via Fed Ex from Colorado.

326. Bésame

My Grandmother died last night. She was 100 years old last April. I am more shocked than sad. In my life, she always was. At some point you begin to think that she was immortal. I barely cried and now I am beginning to worry that with all the loss and heartache I have no empathy left to give.

My biological paternal Grandmother died well before I was born. Thankfully my grandfather remarried a graceful and wonderful woman. Her name was Alice, but her nickname was “Bayto”…that was some anglos child’s miss interpretation of “bésame”. – Spanish for give me a kiss. That was Bayto, a kiss first and all love to follow.  As I mentioned, she was there before my own consciousness, but my earliest memory of her was a building a Christmas diorama of a beautiful angel presented in a box. She picked me up at home and drove me to the craft store, Moskatels. (It no longer exists we both outlasted it.) We carefully picked out each thing we needed to create the angel. She never was impatient like my own busy mother. We took our time and then drove to her home and spent what seemed like hours creating this glorious angel. I can see the finished project in my head and I wish I had it to this day.

Bayto was such an amazing woman. She was tiny, and it was even more evident among the giants of the Brill family. She was all of 4’10” (my grandfather was 6’2”). She was smart, very smart and well spoken. She grew up in Mexico – an outsider as a Protestant among Catholics. Her father was associated with Poncho Via and she made that sound like an admirable thing. She was always impeccably dressed and in the most classic fashions. She kept her figure by never eating more than more than half her plate. She received many trophies for shooting and believed that god was a fairytale. I will miss her. But at 100 years old it was time for her to have her peace – no question.

325. Frame of Reference

Today I touched a meteor that was over 4.5 billions years old. All morning Curtis and I struggled with Katie and her obnoxious behavior. It was bad enough that  by 9 o'clock in the morning I was wondering if we would make it through the day. Everything comment she said to us was angry and nasty. Every interaction with her sister was a competition. Everything we wanted to do was stupid or boring or nothing she was interested. Everyone of her actions was impulsive. Everything was difficult. For us, everything was exhausting.  (I know you are thinking, "Listen to Mom's black and white thinking... " but really, it was all rough. No gray today.)

When we got back home and I was looking through photographs of the day and I came across a shot of the  ancient meteor. It got me thinking. As humans we are so unique. We are so self absorbed and concerned about our lives, but we are individually on this earth for such a very short period of time. The expectancy of our lives is about 75 years. One day is rather insignificant in the scheme of humans... but that won't stop me from trying to make her a better one.

324. Generations

Ancestors admiring descendants as descendants admire this year's Christmas tree.

323. Vertigo

The illness, not the movie - I am spinning like a top. The blank wall straight ahead is the only thing I can stare at.

- Posted using BlogPress for iPad (now that it is available for iPad!)

322. Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

321. Church

I went to church for the first time in years. Most people know that I am not a very religious person - swearing like a sailor is the first dead give away. But I was baptized and raised Roman Catholic. My mom left the Church after my parents decided to get a divorce. Divorce was not an option as a Catholic, so she could have her marriage annulled and her children determined to be illegitimate, or just leave the faith behind... hard choice? I continued to go to church with my Grandma for a good chunk of my childhood and at some point decided that it wasn't for me. My other Grandmother once told me that god was a fairytale to her. She wasn't exposed to early enough in order to believe. But I was. And although I left religion behind years ago, I do believe in god... may be not the benevolent-male-figure-in-a-white-robe kind of god, but I do believe in the idea of spirituality.

When I was about 12 years old my brother Matt and I each had albino cockatiels. We were given them as a replacement for the parakeets that died saving the family from carbon monoxide poisoning. The cockatiels were great pets and I spent hours training them. One day I walked out of the house with them on my shoulder. For some reason, Spike, my brother's bird, flew away. He was gone - high and far in a matter of seconds - a yellow dot disappearing in the blue sky. I felt terrible and for the next week I did the only thing I knew how to do to remedy the situation - I prayed. I prayed for days, and days. I made a promise to always believe in god if I could only get Spike back for my brother. At the end of 7 days (magic number) of non-stop prayer, I walked out one morning to hear the bird's unique song not far away. I looked across the street in the direction of the neighbor's house. Way up in the tree, a very tall white ash, at the very top was a bright, yellow, little cockatiel. My brother climbed the 50 foot tree to try to retrieve Spike which enlisted another round of instant prayers as visions of my brother plunging to his death terrified me more than the bird's demise. In the end, all was good. The bird and brother returned safely to the nest. The bird lived until the ripe old age of 20 years, impressive for the species. But in the end, solidified, my belief, not in religion but in god.

320. Tradition

Tradition is an odd thing. It is what makes us comfortable. It is what sparks all the warm and fuzzy memories that we live for. But it can also be rigid and traumatic when not followed exactly as planned.

Our own Christmas tradition has been so disrupted by parental illness and demise. We ventured east to Tucson to spend it with Curtis' dad and stepmom. For the past couple of weeks I have been so excited to get out of Los Angeles and come to the desert to visit my in-laws - an escape, a fresh start, a needed break. It was a busy couple of days and finally today we were all home to put up the tree. Trimming a tree should be fun and enjoyable, but it wasn't. In the end all the participants noted those that were missing. In blending all the traditions nobody's ritual seemed the right fit and we all felt a bit let down. Emotional pain is an interesting monster. You hope you can leave it behind, but it travels with you even if you least expect it and don't care for it to come along.

319. Self Conscious

It is that time of year when you run into a lot of family members. That's the point of holidays - right? And family like to talk about what you have been up to lately - right? Well for the last week, my family has been asking me and commenting on my blog. It is wonderful that someone is reading it. At least you can count on the family. But every night that I sit down to write I never imagine anyone (even beloved family members) reading it. All this face-to-face comments is making me self conscious so I am finding it impossible to write about the days events.

318. Light Pollution

One thing that I have found remarkable about Tucson is how dark it is - you can always see the stars. I guess in order to prevent the city from interfering with near by observatories the city has a strict outdoor lighting code. Well things do change. I can only guess that the code has changed?

317. Holiday Spirit

My step dad Ken really enjoyed the holidays. He loved to over indulge in friends, gifts, food, and drink. The Christmas tree was always tall and bushy. The gifts were overwhelming. And as us five kids grew up and reproduced so did the amount of gifts. Ken was unusual in so many ways. He loved to wrap each gift with extreme care and uniqueness. It took a month of steady daily wrapping to accomplish the tasks. When Christmas arrived we had to take turns and open each gift one at a time, but only after we paused to admire the wrapping. He would beam back a smile with delight. Within a matter of hours all his labor was undone into piles of ripped paper that was shoved into trash bags and destined for the recycling can.

Last Christmas was the first without my step dad. My mom needed help to try and make it special. By the time the day arrived I was depressed and exhausted. This year we decided to head to Arizona to spend Christmas with Curtis' family. The last Christmas we spent in Arizona was just before Curtis' mom passed away a few years ago. So Christmas will be different from the past years no matter what - significant loved ones are missing. But we are really looking forward to this week and starting some new traditions.

316. Three Little Pigs

To explain would only diminish the joy this image brings me.

315. Remain calm at all times...

I spilled energy gel on my iPhone a few months ago - the super sticky and thick substance oozed into the speaker and microphone assembly and my iPhone has never been the same. Curtis, my husband, decided to order a new speaker and battery for it and try and repair it. 

The parts on the phone are ridiculously tiny. Apple must have a room full of four year olds with awesome dexterity assembling phones all day long. We (well really Curtis) took the phone apart, too all the guts out, swapped out the bad parts and put in back together... over an hour later... mild success. The speaker works, the microphone kind-of works, and now there is minimal cell reception. The whole process made me so nervous that I began pacing. The phone is like a child to me and I just can't see it all exposed like that. I had to sequester myself to the bedroom before I wore the finish off the floor. At the moment, he is still working on it - reviewing information and You Tube videos to see if he can diagnose the reception issue. I have to hand it to him... he is much calmer than me. All those tiny screws and micro connectors are making me crazy.

314. Surprise

Going to a friend's surprise party and will be home late. So here's tonight's pic.




- excuse the typos...posted via Windo's iPhone

313. Ask

When I call my mom I don't know what to say. So much of her life is now defined by her illness. She doesn't work, read, or socialize so those typical topics are not available for discussion. I can tell her about my kids activities, but at some point, there just isn't much to talk about that does not involve her health or long term outcome. It must be annoying and exhausting for her. She was a doctor and she was never short of interesting things to discuss. For the past year that was my go to conversation. Bringing up some "medical"topic always sparked a good conversation. But recently that seems to have slipped from her memory too. My aunt mentioned that highly intelligent people who get dementia are able to hold it together and function much longer time than those with average intelligence. But at some point, even the people of the highest intelligence start to lose reality and when they do, they lose it so much faster. It makes sense.

I ran into a friend today and she asked me why I hadn't returned her call. I made the excuse that I was busy with the kids, work, and my ailing mother (all true), but I haven't called her back because all my friends seem to want to ask me about is my mom. It is because they are wonderful friends that are concerned for me and what I am going through, but at some point, her illness begins to define not just her, but me too. She has got to be sick of every conversation being about her health,  and I too am geting sick of every conversation being about her health. I need a break.

This friend today mentioned that she saw me out of the corner of her eye, at quick glance, and that I reminded her of my mom. First, it is time to stand up straighter! But the comment terrified me. For loved ones, the diagnosis of dementia leads to our greatest fears - of  all sorts. A loved one lost in the city, a loved one being taken advantage of, a love one wondering into traffic. These are not my greatest fears for my mom's diagnosis. No mine is more selfish.   My greatest fear is this diagnosis is genetic and that yes I am so much like my mom.

312. Busing

I have been looking at middle schools for my daughter and the more schools I look at the more I reflect on my own experience. In the mid 1970's in Los Angeles while LAUSD was already floundering with the teaching method of whole language the administration made another fabulous decision - busing. Busing was an attempt to integrate the mostly caucasian schools of the San Fernando Valley with the more racially diverse schools of the city. So at the age of 9 years old I had to catch a 6:45 am bus and ride it for an hour and a half to Sheridan Street School in Boil Heights. At the end of the day, I had to ride it home. Three hours on the bus a day in order to some how better integrate our schools. Most of my time at Sheridan was great. I learned to play the cello in orchestra. Because Sheridan was a Title I school they had amazing music facilities beyond those at my home school in Encino. My teacher, Mrs. Spohr, played the guitar and sang us almost every lesson. She loved fine arts as well and I didn't mind riding the bus in order to be in her class. It wasn't all roses - there was major racial tension. There was one girl that had it out for me - may be it was my gringa appearance. She stuck a wad of gum in my hair and later a knife in my back at recess. I lived in fear of her for most of the year.

Busing was eventually deemed a total disaster. LAUSD has allowed those that want to come to the valley Permits With Transfer and those who chose to try another school integration through Magnet Schools. Since the 1970s the SFV is amazingly diverse and integration is no longer necessary. But the district is still paying to transport a lot of kids all over the city. I think given these rough budget times this out dated approach should be reconsidered.

311. Health

I think I am going insane sandwiched between Katie and my mom's health problems. I am too emotionally and physically drained from the day to articulate anything in words. 'night.

310. Office

Within a week I have been in four waiting rooms. Not much to take photographs of in a waiting room.

309. Multimedia

We took the girls to a basket ball game yesterday. I hadn't been to a pro sporting event in years. The girls have never been. So it was time. Once we arrived I realized, things have changed and I am getting old, really old. Forget the guys playing ball, that had little to do with the day. It was all about the electronics display - the overwhelming electronics display. There are so many flat screens, not to mention the enormous and beautiful score board that watching the game is simple a let down.

308. Whine

Hello.  It is me, Katie. I am going to write my mom's blog tonight.  Today my mom told me about depth of field.  She told me that it is like when you look at just your finger everything around it blurs behind it.  I  think she took the picture for that reason.

This is my Grandma  as you know as my mom's mom.  I like to call her Goga.  Today, My Great Aunt (Goga's sister) was in town (she lives in Paso Robles).  Goga invited us over for dinner and to see my Great Aunt.  We gladly excepted.  When we got there my sister and I ran into the play room and started playing with a box our dad gave us.

About 5 minutes later Goga came in and told us to stop denting the walls and to stop breaking things.  That whole time we made that ruckus we were in the box.  We said ok and went on playing.

An hour later we had hooked up all of the strollers in the play room with scarfs and bows.  We had put almost 10 baby dolls in each one and were rolling them in the hallway.  Again, Goga came and asked to stop breaking things and clean up the mess that we had made because it was almost time to go.  We cleaned up.

When we were getting our shoes on to go out the door, Goga started speaking about us breaking things again.  I had heard from my mom if anything like this happened we should just go along with her.  I knew I was innocent, my sister was innocent, my dad knew I was innocent, my mom knew we were both innocent.  I waited until she stopped talking and just followed her.  I told her that we wouldn't breaking anything anymore I told we would be quiet.  What I really wanted to do was tell her that we didn't do anything.  I just couldn't.  I wanted to wake up from this crazy dream that if you think about it is pulling our family apart.   I really miss the older days when nothing was crazy.  I wish just like my mom, that this all would go away.

307. Biology

I am letting a song from my youth write the blog tonight....


Welcome to your life
There's no turning back
Even while you sleep
We will find you
Acting on your best behaviour
Turn your back on mother nature
Everybody wants to rule the world


Tears for Fears

306. Hear

I was born with ugly ears. I used to love to lay on the couch with my head in my mom's lap. She would gently unfold the top of my ear over and over until I would fall asleep. When she was in medical school and had 36 hour shifts I found it difficult to sleep without her attention to my ears.

For years I thought she loved them with all this attention. I never knew they were ugly. Then one day as a preteen, when I was getting too big to fit on her lap she told me that I could have my ears fixed. I jumped up from my relaxed state, "Fixed?" Yes, fixed she repeated. I said, "Fixed? Like a dog?" At that moment I developed a self conscious about my funny looking ears that remains until this day. She tried to convince me for years to fix them, but even though they are ugly, they are mine.

When I was in graduate school I invented a story about the origin of my odd ears... When my parents fought loudly I would cover up my ears to try and drown out their yelling. One day they stuck.

305. Mismatch

Finals week and not enough time to think about my own photography. The week is almost up and then there might be more time to take photographs...hopefully. Just trying to hang in there.

304. Thaw

This week a television show has been filming at my daughters' school. It is a pain in the neck. There is no parking. You can't get into the school to drop off a late lunch. There are twice the amount of kids on campus - the real kids and the actors playing kids for the movie. There are trailers, and food trucks, and porta-potties, and generators, and equipment trucks. Five years ago there was filming every couple of months around the school. I remember I used to complain about the inconvenience. When the economy went bust the filming disappeared. Today I tried to focus on the positive - at least the film crews are popping up all over town. Film crews fattening up a much deflated LAUSD budget.