Red Dinner

Every Valentine's we and the Pfefferles have a red dinner. (Miranda and Mrs. P. have their red on, you just can't see it.) This was the 5th annual.
Red dinner means things like homemade pizza with red dough, or spaghetti cooked in red-tinted water; red fruit--strawberries, grapes, etc.; strawberry lemonade; some sort of red jello. That kind of stuff.


Everyone enjoys it, though it's not as "cute" as it used to be. Now, it's more an opportunity to keep a tradition that helps me savor fun moments in a different way (children do get older, and I'm getting older, too, after all), reminisce about joys past, and give me cause to stop and think about how I will need to change the way I delight in and celebrate with my family as we all change over time.



I don't know...maybe I'll have to drop the goofy photo persona?

Tucson

I'm TDY (that's what my military students taught me to call it, Temporary Duty) in Tucson at the moment, teaching the graduate course that I do at Fort Lewis but at Davis Monthan AF Base.
I don't have any pictures, but if you go to google maps and tell it to search S. Kolb Rd, Tucson, the little green arrow should put you right in the middle of the "boneyard." (If not, the cross street you need is E. Irvington.) Be sure to choose "Satellite."
This is the place where all surplused US military aircraft (and a couple of old Soviet planes as well) are stored. It's real name is the aircraft restoration center, as some of these aircraft will fly again, though probably not for the US. They might be sold or given to another military.

The satellite photo is clear enough to see the planes that have had wings cut off (to show their disabling in order to meet treaty obligations, as I've always heard). If you knew where to look, you could probably see the 3 Soviet MiGs, and the various planes that are sitting on wood blocks after being cannibalized for parts. There are supposedly even some planes that are sort of "quarantined" after their involvement in various Agent Orange activities. Bill Clinton's Marine One is there, too.

It was all kind of interesting for me...sorta like the Soviet missile base last summer (who or what prevailed upon me to wear short pants?).

Anyway, more about Peter when I return.

AM

Peter and "his" social worker

That's Jeff Clare, Foster Care Director at Youth for Christ, and an old colleague and friend of Sandy's.

He's Peter's unofficial social worker.




Jeff and the YFC group do marvelous work. The bottom of this piece explains what I mean.

Pop-up Peter

We got out the Johnny Jump-up a couple of days ago...
Just look at him go.

He's in fast motion...

Kinda makes ya wish they had an adult version, doesn't it?

Peter's Worm

This reminds me of one of my high school photography class pieces of work...too clever by half. But still, that is a happy-looking worm.

Hearts, Bottles, and Dogs

Peter held the bottle by himself for the first time. I'm so thankful...now I can make phone calls and write blog entries while he feeds himself.

Or maybe I'll have more time to spend with the 3-legged dog.?I dunno...maybe this was enough time with the dog.

Notice the hair...

as the General in The In-Laws might say.

After washing, it stays in tight curls.

After a while not washing, it gets straigther.
Take a close look at his eyes, by the way. Pretending he's asleep, and doing a bad job of it if I do say so....More to the point, he's deceiving us already.

Debuting at the Mandolin Cafe

Peter gets another chance to practice the habits and appreciate the joys of good fellowship...this time with the breakfast club Sandy is in.
That's Mary Fischer holding Peter, and Karen Bream across the table.

The Tongue Series

Peter has taken to sticking his tongue out for extended stretches (of both time and anatomy)...







I told him to enjoy while he can...people don't find this behavior adorable for too terribly long.

Various (mostly) Snowy Things

The first time in that rolling chair thing...lots to look at.


Everybody taking Sandy breakfast in bed on a snowy morning.

Taking a walk on the same snowy morning.

We weren't the only ones out walking.

And still later, snowman building. Hope and Miranda made Bob.

Jackson made Steve.

Peter's Room

Here is one corner of Peter's room. That's a bookshelf with doors, covered with a variety of the stuffed animals he's already collected.

I don't know why, I just like the look of all these characters sitting there, almost like they're waiting for Peter--waiting for him to get old enough to notice them, old enough to care about them, old enough to pay them the kind of attention that creates their very meaning and worth.

(I know the picture's a bit blurry, but I really prefer no flash.)

I hope this remains a picture of his room, too--a room of his heart. My heart, also.

I know that none of us needs reminding that very little turns out the way we think it will, and I know some day--when I'm exhausted, or he's fed up with me-- I will look at this picture and remember what we had hoped would be. And somehow, I don't really know how, it will be a reassuring inspiration.