Christmas at the O'Dowds

Blogging About Nothing

So, a current houseguest and friend told me that she keeps checking my blog, but hasn't seen anything since "the turkey one." So, I feel compelled to blog, but not sure what to talk about. There's quite a lot rambling around in this head. Oh, I know - babies. I've been thinking a lot about babies. (Don't anyone get either excited or nervous -- I've already been told that if I want another one of my own, I will have to find another husband. I like the one husband I have, so I guess I'll have to be content to talk and think about other people's babies...) Right now, my life is chock full of babies and the idea of babies -- there is my friend who waited a long time for marriage and babies and is now happily counting down the days until the second of those two arrives, my friends who've been trying for a while and God is rewarding their patience with not one, but two (!), there are friends who are waiting on a word from an African government so that they can bring their new daughter home, those whom I dearly love who had the promise of a baby who has now gone ahead of them into the arms of God, and those who are still waiting, waiting... It's interesting, and happy, and sad, to think how much joy and pain these little lives can bring. Recently, as we've begun Epiphany, I was thinking about the words of Simeon, in the temple, to Mary, about how her soul would one day be pierced - she didn't know at the time that this would be the death of her son. And I was remembering, too, the words of a pastor who remarked that the curse of pain in childbearing probably wasn't limited to just the physical laboring to bring children into the world, but that our pain would be extended as we worry about our children, grieve over injustices done to them or the consequences of foolish choices, and even, sometimes, have to say a last good-bye to them - at least until we are all renewed. I can't imagine my life without them, but then, neither could I have anticipated how hard it would be to raise them well. I didn't appreciate my own mom enough (sorry Mom!) - maybe no one fully does until they find themselves in the same position. Wow. It's hard. Thanks be to God that he doesn't leave us alone with them!
OK - new topic. Far less profound and warm and fuzzy. I call it "Ode to Bowl Season." You may begin to tune me out now if you are not a NCAA football fan. Or, at least skip down a few lines to the non-football banter. I love Bowl season. In our house, we like to have the Bowl games on, even if we're not watching them intently. We like the sounds -- the announcers, the marching bands, the clashing of helmets, the melodrama of the pre-game hype. And even though I sometimes wonder if the idea of your team making it to a Bowl is somehow diminished by the fact that there are SO MANY Bowl games now (I think I read somewhere that there are 60?) - how can you not appreciate getting to watch 60 more football games at the end of the regular season! At least if you're not living in Canada :( I'm sorry to my Canadian friends and neighbors, but never was more frustration felt in the O'Dowd household than when we went to turn on the Outback Bowl (or some other game) and found instead -- "World Championship Junior Hockey" -- exhibition games, at that. Disappointing. We weren't entirely thwarted -- we did get to see a bunch of them. My particular favorite thus far has been the Sugar Bowl. Bowl Buster team Utah crushed the hopes and desires of the Alabama Crimson Tide. There was much rejoicing here. At least by me -- since we live in the Eastern Time Zone, Ryan was long asleep when Utah dumped the Gatorade. I felt a surge of pride that a team from our own conference (the Mountain West - home of the Colorado State Rams and the US Air Force Academy Falcons) beat a mighty SEC team like Alabama. A school that is so proud, to the point of idolatrous, of its football team. Yay!!!!!
This brings up my last point - the end of the holiday season. I tried in vain this year not to set my expectations too high. I tried to tell myself that it wouldn't matter if I didn't do cut-out cookies with the kids. That it wouldn't matter if we didn't drive around to see the lights. Etc. Etc. However, myself didn't really listen, and as a result, I found myself as tired after the Christmas break, as I had been going into it. That doesn't seem right. I need a coalition of people around me all chanting the matra of "It just doesn't matter. It just doesn't matter." But the Martha Stewarts of the world are drowning those people out! Sisters - unite for simplicity! I need you!
This may go down as the most random of my blogs. Maybe the most random blog ever. Oh - before I forget - I want to put in a plug for a wonderful man and his wonderful stories. Mike Hamel is my friend Jenn's father-in-law and he's written the Matterhorn the Brave series of adventure books for the 8-12 year old set. If you know and love an 8-12 year old, you must check out this series. He based it on bedtime stories he developed for his children, and his children are all characters in the story (in fantastic forms!) He's recently lost his publisher and is searching for a new one, but his books can be found on Amazon. Let's support him and support quality books for kids! Our most voracious reader gave them an enthusiastic thumbs up. High praise indeed.
Ending now.

A Morally Superior Turkey

Because this is my blog, I get to be on my soapbox for a little while. My topic today: Thanksgiving and the plight of the factory turkey. Earlier this year Ryan and I read a book called "Farm Sanctuary." I recommend it to everyone. It's a great conversation starter and is - no pun intended - truly "food" for thought. The author is a vegan, but reading the book didn't make us want to be vegans. Gene Bauer runs two animal sanctuary farms - one in upstate New York and one in Southern California - for abused factory farm animals. His coverage of the treatment of animals on factory farms was enlightening and alarming. I have probably just been naive, but I was truly horrified to learn about the conditions in which factory farm animals live -- many in boxes or crates that don't allow them to sit, lie down, or turn around - ever. While I believe God has set us over the animals, I also think he expects us to protect them and treat them humanely. So while I still enjoy eating them (sorry little guys!) I want to know that the animals I'm eating had a safe, healthy life and weren't tortured for my access to cheap food. And that's basically what it comes down to -- the more animals a factory farm can cram in, the faster they can fatten them up, the cheaper the food is on the grocery shelf. Chickens are bred to have such large breasts (better for the shopper, right?) that they can't walk properly and often become crippled. Male chicks are thrown into mulchers because they aren't profitable for egg laying. Dying and dead animals are ground up to make feed for other animals. And the list goes on. As a family, we haven't come as far as we'd like to yet - that would mean buying our meat, eggs, and milk only from family farms, but we're making small strides. And this year, that includes buying what I like to call a "morally superior turkey." A turkey to eat - yes - but one that has been allowed to roam and peck and roost and all the things that birds naturally do. It costs a lot more than a Butterball, but it feels good to tell the kids that there are better ways to save money than supporting the cruel treatment of animals. It's good to be reminded that our food doesn't just magically appear on the grocery shelves -- we are accountable for what we buy at the market. So if you haven't purchased your Thanksgiving turkey, try Googling "Eat Local". And have a very happy Thanksgiving!

Veteran's/Remembrance Day

Even though I'm a day late (and a dollar short, but I won't get into that...) I need to give a hearty salute to my grandfathers, my aunts and uncles, my "dads", my sister, Stacy, her husband, Jeff, my brothers-in-law, countless friends, and my own sweet husband, for the sacrifices they've made in the defense of our country and the fact that although they may not literally have laid their lives on the line on a daily basis, they are willing to. Thanks guys! And a special treat - from 12 year old Patrick, who, to my dismay, often expresses a desire to be a tank commander - here is a Veteran's Day poem:

Never Again

Remember, remember,
That morn of November,
When enemies signed for the killing to cease.

For most it was blessed,
For many overdue,
But many already rested in peace.

The firing has stopped,
The dead have been buried,
And we hope for it never again.

For the truth about war is
The blood and the gore
That we saw in those swampy mud fields.

And now many years later
Neither friends nor long haters
Can forget that peace was the goal

When soldiers one and each
Threw themselves in the breach
To protect their loved ones back home.

“Never again”, we say,
“Never again
Shall we relive those gory four years”.

Remember, we shall,
For we should not forget
That war only brings us tears

On this day we remember
That morn of November
And our friends and loved ones who rest.

The Money Ghost and Hannah Montana

The only child I have who will pose for shots like this.

Autumn Shots (or "Amy finally learned how to post photos!")

Aidan apple-picking