Bubbles

Sherman has discovered bubbles.
Really, they were made just for him.
He was born to pop them.

It doesn't matter how many there are. It's his job to pop every single one.

No matter how high.

No matter how low.

Working to keep the neighborhood safe
from squirrels,
from chipmunks,
from bunnies,
from falling leaves and
from bubbles.

Mama Bear's Green Thumb ..... or the lack thereof

Mama Bear is blessed with a green thumb. After reading about the meticulously kept kitchen garden by Pioneer Woman and the beautifully manicured container gardens in urns complete with felines by The Country Doctor's Wife, I felt I simply had to share my horticultural abilities with the world.


Behold my large pink flowers, Latin name humungous pinkus. Planted long ago to cover the west side of our screen porch, these flowers measure 14 inches across. I'm sure there is another name for them. Perhaps someone from Cornell can enlighten us. Or not.


These are our twice fruiting raspberries, now on their second harvest of the summer. I received this plant in 1995, a gift from the 4 year old who lived behind us at that time. Appropriately, this house warming gift arrived in a Dixie cup and was perhaps 2" tall. She didn't warn me that this is actually a weed that grows around these parts. Four year olds are like that. Once one of these hits the soil, it takes over, and you can never get rid of it. Never. Ever. This particular plant is at least twenty feet away from that original Dixie cup. And about five feet into my lawn.




Grapes. We live in grape country. The Finger Lakes region of NY State produces some of the finest wines in the USA. But not from these grapes. These grow wild in my backyard. They are mainly skin and seeds with just a bit of meat to produce a drop of juice.

Like my raspberries, each fall we dig these up, untangle the vines and haul them to the town recycling drop off where we bid our adieus and watch them get turned into mulch. And every spring they find their way home. Perhaps I should just give in and try my hand at making wine? I think there is enough here for a tablespoon or two.




This is my 3 year old sweet cherry tree. Apparently our neighborhood deer also thought it was sweet.


Last but not least, my secret garden. Very carefully planned out for just the right amount of textures and shades of green. Note the wild grape and Virginia creeper meticulously trained to climb the chestnut and red bud trees. This gardenscape holds the piece d'resistance, our water element, which no landscape should be without. Our natural spring fed creek runs through the backyard. After a rain, it can be a rushing 4 foot deep gully, but most of the time there is just a pleasant 2" deep trickle of ice cold refreshment. Just enough water for the deer to wash down the remnants of my cherry tree.

I'd show you my vegetable garden, but the deer got to that too. Have you ever seen tomato topiary?

September Sunsets

Red in the morning, all should take warning.
Red at night, all will delight.

First Day of School

Tomorrow is the first day of school for our district. The buses made a practice run today. All the teachers made their last minute preparations. In my elementary school, the students were given a time to come in, meet their teachers, drop off their school supplies, find their desks, in short, a snapshot of what tomorrow holds.

As an educator, I look forward to seeing all their bright, cheerful faces. As a parent, I also know what this day holds. To hand off your most beloved possession, entrust them to a total stranger, allow them to mold your child -- it's a lesson in faith. Our children are not really our possessions, but they possess our hearts. And I thank every parent for entrusting me with their most adored little one.

The bus no longer stops by our den. Our youngest cub has crossed the stage into a new and exciting chapter of life. We measure our lives in our children. Perhaps that is why I'm so excited to be at the other end of this educational spectrum, to have little ones in my life.


This morning, I found a poem in my folder. As a former "world of business" person, I do so appreciate the perspective of all sides. I recall a conversation with a business man, manager of a pie company, who spouted that education should be run just as a business is run, to be most effective with the taxpayer's dollars. So I asked him, what he did when he received a load of berries that were dented, underdeveloped, or not quite ripe; did he make his pies from them? "Why, no! That would not make very good pies. I'd throw them out or send them back. I pride myself on producing quality." "Well, in public education," I replied, "we don't have the privilege of selecting only the very best kids to educate. We take every child, those who've faced challenges and those who have not developed as quickly, and we nurture them, inspire them, and hopefully turn out minds who continue to love learning all their lives." Education is not like any other business.

What Teachers Make
By Taylor Mali

The dinner guests were sitting around the table
discussing life. One man, a CEO, decided to explain
the problem with education.
He argued:
"What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided
his best option in life was to become a teacher?"

He reminded the other dinner guests that it's true
what they say about teachers:
"Those who can.... do. Those who can't... teach."

To corroborate, he said to another guest:
"You're a teacher, Susan. Be honest. What do you make?"
Susan, who had a reputation of honesty and frankness, replied,
"You want to know what I make?"

"I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honor
and an A- feel like a slap in the face
if the student did not do his or her very best."

"I can make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence.
I can make parents tremble in fear when I call home."

"You want to know what I make?"

"I make kids wonder.
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write.
I make them read, read, read."

"I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful,
and definitely beautiful over and over and over again,
until they never misspell either one of those words again."

"I make them show all their work in math
and hide it all on their final drafts in English."

"I make them understand that if you have the brains,
then follow your heart ...
and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you pay them no attention!"

"You know what I make?"

"I make a difference."

"And you? What do you make?"

Adirondack weekend

I had the fortune of spending time this weekend in the Adirondack Mountains, a 6 million acre preserve of mountains and lakes. The park was created in 1882 by the forward thinkers in NY State to guarantee public lands would remain forever wild, forever ours. The park is a huge expanse, greater in size than Yellowstone, the Everglades, Glacier and Grand Canyon National Parks combined.

Contrary to popular belief, the mountains of the Adirondacks are not old, worn down mountains, but relatively young land masses caused by uplift and carving during the age of glaciers. Below the mountains there is continuous activity, causing them to "grow," continually uplifting. The massive boulders rising to the surface, on land and within the lakes, may be some of the oldest rock in the world, but the mountains themselves are still growing up!

Within the mountains lie over 3,000 clear blue lakes surrounded by evergreens and deciduous trees, whose leaves this late in August are already turning bright shades of red, orange and yellow. We had the pleasure on Saturday afternoon to take a cruise along the 99 miles of shoreline of Raquette Lake. Nowhere have I ever seen cabins and camps like they have in the Adirondacks.
It is such a delight to see the quaint villages in this area. "Downtown" Raquette Lake sits almost in the exact middle of the park and consists of a small library, church, and a handful of businesses that look like they've just stepped out of the 1890s - when most of the "modern" buildings in this town were erected.

If you are looking for a visit to a bygone era of lumberjacks, want to spend a day canoeing in lakes like the Native Americans did, camp in the cool nights under the stars, wake to fishing and the call of loons, or dine with celebrities at the Great Camp Sagamore or with your favorite person by a cold mountain stream - try the Adirondack Mountains!
And if you want to go to church while you're there, you'd better have a boat or brush up on your swimming skills!

Duck Racing at it's Finest

The highlight of our small town summer is the annual Duck Drop. I call it The Duck Race, but race is probably too grand a word for this event.

We live along the Erie Canal. A waterway that was designed for boats pulled by mules. Speed was the great consideration in 1822 when this canal opened a gateway to the Great Lakes. The steam engine had not been invented yet, so the packet boats relied on mule power to make the trip from Albany to Buffalo and back. Speed in 1822 is not quite the 2008 equivalent.

On any given day, sightseers can enjoy dining along the canal. Or riding bicycles along the mule path, now a paved pathway that runs east and west for miles and miles. If you don't have a bike, you can rent one. Or try your hand on the open water renting a canoe, kayak or paddle boat. Although there is a current deep under the water, the placid surface is perfect for the ducks and geese that gather to entertain pedestrians and paddlers alike.

So peaceful are these waters, you can throw a stick in and an hour later still see it floating just a few yards downstream. Thus the term "race" is perhaps an exaggeration for our little event. The only reason the little rubber duckies move the alloted distance in less than 30 minutes is because the canal lock master upstream faithfully discharges a gush of water; he opens the lock at just the precise moment to give a little umph, a bit of a nudge, to hurry the duckies along.

The evening started out with a concert by a local band. A sea of lawn chairs and blankets. A gathering of young and old along the banks of the canal. Picnic baskets were wide open, wine was uncorked, the cheese perfectly sliced. A table sat off to one side where our local Starbucks provided free iced coffee. Could life be any better?


The crowd lined both shores. The air filled with anticipation. A local celebrity/news anchor was in place at the microphone to provide play-by-play and color commentary.

Close to 1,500 ducks were lined up, ready to launch. Ok. Not really lined up. But they were all boxed up, ready to be thrown off the Main Street bridge.

And off they go!

Regardless of which duck won, the real winners are the children in our community. All proceeds from the great duck race go to our Youth Services organization, providing free and confidential counseling to all children in our community. Children faced with challenging situations - facing difficult family relationships, family illness, substance abuse, divorce or just in need of someone to talk to... those children will have a place to go, or someone to come to them. Thanks to a little rubber duck race.

20 minutes later, the lead duck crossed the finish line. Backwards. Sticking his tongue out at the ducks behind. At least that's what I was told. And that duck's sponsor walked away with a $500 prize (for only a $5 investment).

I'm still waiting for my ducks to check in.

Growing Puppies and Back to School

img_0080_00, originally uploaded by MamaBear#1.

The boys are getting pretty big now and Oliver has left our den for a new one in the Steel capital. We miss his cute fuzzy face and Sherman misses his little brother.

I can't believe how fast summer is a passing. Just completed my 5th week of our summer school/camp for our students with special learning needs. We have one more week and then a short 2 1/2 week break before the first day of school. Of course, that doesn't mean putting my feet up. I've been transferred from high school to kindergarten! (No more teaching cooking skills every morning.) Our classroom has been completely remodeled so there will be some work to do getting everything in order for opening day.

And with back-to-school comes some new classes for me. I'm very excited to be working with students who use ASL to help them communicate. I'll be taking classes to improve my signing skills. Much needed. Unless all these students need to say is "please," "thank you" and "i need to potty."

I've been working on my rate and clarity of finger spelling this summer, which is coming along, and signing important things like the little fishy song, days of the week (sung to the Adams Family theme song) and "Let's go to camp." Yes, kindergarten is going to be a big change for me. There is something so exciting about going back to school. I can't wait!

Growing

Oliver 6-9 010, originally uploaded by MamaBear#1.

The puppies are growing up big and strong. Could be they found out where we keep the chow. Oliver is 30 pounds now at 3 months. Sherman.... well, we'll find out when he goes in on Tuesday for a little surgery.

And they did a good job of chewing through the CAT5 cable. We're back up and running.

My Parents

My parents are considering giving up their land line to save money and relying on their "new" cell phone for communication. I use the term "new" very loosely. They've had the cell phone for over 5 years, but I can count the number of times they have used it on one hand.

Here's the conversation we had over the phone yesterday... or perhaps I should say I heard yesterday:

(Mama Bear dials phone number and hears them answer on the other end)
Grandma: How do I answer this phone?
Poppy: Don't answer it. What if it's someone we don't know? I don't want to waste my minutes on a wrong number. What number is calling?
Grandma: I don't know. How can I tell?
Poppy: Look at the window on the front.
Grandma: I already opened it, but I think the area code was 555 (misreading the number)
Poppy: We don't know anyone in that area code. Don't answer it. I'm not paying for wrong numbers.
Grandma: But it might be an emergency. What do I push?
Poppy: The green button.
Grandma: ok (click)

Grandma called me this morning. She said she wanted to practice using the cell phone. She and Poppy are heading out on a week-long bus trip with the senior citizens to see famous gardens in North Carolina. She tells me their bus is currently passing through our area so the call won't be long distance. Then she asks me to call my sister "E" back home and ask her to check in on my sister "S" to make sure she made it safely home from dropping them off at the bus station. "S" has only been driving for 34 years, so she might have gotten lost traveling those 3 miles back from the bus station. And Grandma can't call "E" directly, now that the bus is 2 hours from home, because that's long distance. I just say "Ok, Grandma. Will do." It doesn't matter how many times I've explained her plan is free throughout the continuous 48 states.

Grandma says they only took the cell phone with them in case there is an emergency and we need to get hold of them. Poppy doesn't want to waste the batteries, she tells me, so she is going to turn the phone off immediately after she hangs up. However, she plans to turn it on again every night at 7PM just in case we have an emergency and need to get hold of her.

I silently promise to only have emergencies this week between 7 and 8 at night.

It's taken her 73 years to develop this wisdom. Who am I to second guess it?

Sherman gets a brother

My oldest cub is all grown up and living 5 hours away in the steel city. Also home to penguins and pirates. Too far away to get her fill of puppy breath from Sherman. So she decided to take the plunge and get a little guy of her own.

Meet Oliver

Oliver was born the same day we picked Sherman up. They share the same father. And Sherman's mother is Oliver's mother's mother (from quite a few litters back). So that makes them brothers. And uncle-nephew. Sherman is Oliver's bruncle.

They are best friends already.

And while my oldest cub is in the process of moving from her old place to a new pet-friendly place, we get to experience the joy of two puppies under our roof until the end of May. Individually they are sweet-smelling, soft, cuddly, tinkle machines. Together they are a tornado.

Newer and improved..... maybe

The Man of the House was recently provided with a brand-spankin' new 2008 Chrysler Town and Country minivan, similar to the one pictured here (photo courtesy of Chrysler). It's very comfortable, drives smoothly, stow-n-go seats, cool keyfob entry and "keyless" ignition. All the works. And since research shows that cup holders are so important to women, I can accurately report the cup holders in the sliding back doors are a vast improvement over the ones in the 2005 T&C.

So overall, we have been quite happy with this new Town and Country for the last month.

Until last night. Actually, last night precisely at 11:45PM. When all suburbanites are tucked safely in their beds, dreaming of a big yellow bus coming by bright and early to take their little cubs off for the day. Dreaming, that is, until AN ALARM STARTS BLARING for no reason.

Ok, maybe there was a reason. Maybe some wild animal snuck under it and jostled some wires. Maybe some adventurous hooligans were going door-to-door looking for an unlocked vehicle where they could quickly snag a cell phone or laptop. Who knows. Goodness knows we never figured it out. But at precisely 11:45PM, the high decibal horn began it's frightful call.

In the attempt to get into the car, we grabbed the cool keyfob -- this modern day genius of an invention. And discovered to our chagrin that when the alarm is going off, it is impossible to get any buttons on the key-fob to work.

On Chrysler's website they say -- "The intuitive keyfob that's available with Town & Country can do everything from starting the vehicle remotely to opening the available power liftgate and sliding doors." They neglect to say it won't respond while alarm is sounding and the owner is in complete panic mode.

So, where was the owner's manual that would explain how to stop the alarm? In the glove compartment where every able-bodied American keeps their car's owner's manual, of course. Just beyond the locked doors. Locked doors of a vehicle that is screaming into the night. And just in case the neighbors weren't quite sure who was disturbing their sleep, all of the lights inside and outside the vehicle were on permanent flash.

While scrambling around, adrenalin pulsing, we discovered the alarm will stop sounding all on its own after 3 full minutes. And eventually, we figured out that if you pull the keyfob apart, you will find a valet key allowing entrance to the vehicle - though using that key will also start the alarm sounding for another 3 full minutes. And in reading the owner's manual, we discovered once you gain access, the way to shut the alarm off is to start the car using the vehicle's keyfob. So simple, yet so confusing. Especially in the middle of the night. When your heart is racing a mile a minute. When the temperature is in the low 50s and you realize you are only wearing a sleeveless nightgown.

I think in my next life, I will go to design school to make car alarms more user friendly. I will also invest in long sleeved pajamas.

In the mean time, perhaps I should read the vehicle's owner's manual. On second thought, I prefer to enjoy driving my 1993 Honda Accord, without car alarm and keyfob.

Mother's Day

In honor of Mother’s Day, I thought I’d share a piece of Bear Family history.

Every family begins with a mother bear somewhere. Our family tree begins with these two lovely, happy ladies, sisters Anna and Hedgwick. Both knew that the key to a future of wealth and happiness was across the sea in America. So they married smart young men and convinced them America was the land of milk and honey. America. Also known as New York. O.K., Upstate New York really – in a little tiny town that hardly makes it on most maps.

But milk and honey was in their futures. Little did they know they would be gathering their milk and honey from the moo cows and buzzin' bees.

Anna had a slew of children, and the first three boys were well educated in their home country of Lithuania and sent to America with the promise to earn enough money to bring the rest of the family over. And so it was written. And so it was done.

And everyone made it over in time for Anna's husband to go on to the promised land. In those days, weddings and funerals were great photo opportunities, since A) photographers were quite expensive, B) pretty much the whole family would be there and C) there was at least one person you didn't have to worry about holding still.

The youngest of the original 3 brothers, Leon, was quite the ladies man. His family hoped he would give up his roustabout days and settle down with a nice girl. So he found that young lady of his dreams, proposed to her, set a date and celebrated. C.E.L.E.B.R.A.T.E.D. with everyone who would raise a glass and with a few young ladies of lesser reputation along the way. Word got out to his bride-to-be's family and the whole affair was called off.

So, what was a family to do with such a scandalous young man on their hands? Why, send to the Old Country for a lovely bride, of course!

Enter Ksenia. (pronounced Kah-sehn-ya)

She was a virtuous young lady of rather limited beauty, and an interesting upbringing. Scorned by the mother who raised her, she was "farmed out" to another family by the age of 7. She received no formal education and spent her days milking cows, tending to the chickens and working the gardens. Essentially she was an indentured servant.

Her older sisters took pity. Perhaps because they saw their mother's distaste for this child. Perhaps because the oldest sister was actually Ksenia's birth mother. It's just one of those things that happens and no one in the family talks about directly, though hints are dropped along the way. And since everyone involved is long gone from this world, I don't think they would argue over the fact that her oldest sister lamented about a daughter she left behind when she was rather hurriedly sent to America, a child who would just happen to be the same age as Ksenia. And a mother/grandmother who showed such distaste for this young girl.

So money was gathered and Ksenia was sent for. When she arrived in this small upstate NY town, the family threw a party. And what a party it was! She was welcomed by the parish priest. She was given a beautiful dress to wear, borrowed from a cousin, along with a wreath of flowers in her hair and a lovely bouquet to carry all through the party. There was a wonderful dinner, with music and dancing.

And at the end of the night, Leon, the dashing young man with the moustache said, "Time to go home." What? Go home with a stranger? What about her sisters? Ksenia had never attended a wedding before, and had no idea what had transpired. And besides, this guy spoke Lithuanian and Ksenia only knew Ukrainian.

So that night, Leon took Ksenia home to his farm. And thus was the beginning of the Bear Clan.

Ksenia may not have been formally educated. And she never learned to sign more than an X to a document. But she was one smart cookie. The first thing she told Leon was that she had no idea how to milk a cow. And she never again milked a cow in her 95 years on this earth.

The Circle of Life

I don't trust anyone who does not own pets. Pets teach us so much and only ask for love in return. And love comes in abundance from a four legged furry guy. Yep. Anyone who has ever read Marley and Me without sobbing at the end is not to be trusted.



We've owned Ernie for the past 6 years. Each night he climbed the stairs and laid at the foot of our bed while I went through my nightly rituals - tooth brushing, changing into jammies, checking out the nightly news. And when I turned down the covers, he knew to hop off the bed and lay on the floor, leaving a nice toasty spot behind to warm my feet as I slipped under the covers.

In late January, Ernie didn't want to climb the stairs one night. I thought perhaps an old knee injury was acting up and made an appointment on Thursday with our vet. With no other symptoms, you can imagine our shock at the vet's diagnosis of primary lung cancer. The x-rays were beyond belief, even to the untrained eye. How could have even be walking around with all those tumors? By Saturday, he was gone. It happened so fast; a blessing he didn't have to suffer. But our hearts were broken. How could I ever find a dog so smart, so loving, so in touch with each of my feelings to take up that now cold spot at the foot of my bed? Who could fill this void in our lives?

I spent my free time visiting our local shelters (can you say "pit bull"), checking out petfinder.com and contacting rescue organizations. And then we found this guy...



Meet Sherman - aka The Sherminator. A three month old golden retriever who's walked into our lives. No one could ever replace Ernie, but Sherman is eager to fill the empty spot in our hearts. He will probably be eager to warm up the foot of my bed...


.... as soon as he is big enough to reach it.

I'm in love with my cars

My cars and I have a special relationship. I know a lot of people who love their new car. Many adore that "new to me" vehicle, that second owner relationship. But when you and your car reach a 15 year milestone, it's beyond a normal bond. It's love.

I am the proud owner of a 1993 Dodge Caravan. Purchased when every suburban housewife obtained a mini-van to drive around their 2.1 children and family pet, it's hauled soccer gear, musical instruments, camping equipment, girl scout cookies, Christmas trees, neighborhood food cupboard donations and carpool-sized loads of children. It's taken family vacations, trips to Grandma's, an excursion to Florida and back as well as a few wrong turns (adventures). It had one run in with a deer and two with the basketball pole in our driveway - by two different teen drivers. Every one of my three children learned to drive with the Big Blue Tank. It was built for safety, not beauty, sports or speed.

And Big Blue keeps on going. Ok, it has a little wear and tear. Only one hubcap will stay on. The Man of the House rescued another from the side of the local interstate, which our son had watched roll away the week before via the rearview mirror. It now rides around inside the van to ensure it won't get lost again. The "metal" detailing is peeling away, revealing white plastic beneath the neoprene "metal". The weatherstripping is pulling away from the back window. The driver's side door looks like an animal chewed away the lower edge, thanks to the salt spray of upstate New York winters.

But, oh, that engine. Like an old general, she just keeps on going, heading into daily battle on the road, thanks to Steve and Dan. Yes, Big Blue owes its life to S&D. We knock on wood with each visit. They always remind me they will let me know when it's time for the DNR order, but somehow they always pull her through, replacing pumps, belts, lines, tanks, you name it. Perhaps Big Blue continues to enjoy life on the road because she has more new parts than old.

Last fall, faced with 5 drivers in the household, we decided we needed to add to the family fleet. Dear Son became the alpha driver of Big Blue, ensuring his safe travels to the local community college and work. I promptly went out and bought a new car for myself.

I am the proud owner of a 1993 Honda Accord. What can I say? It was a very good year.

College Night: Voices of Experience

If you have teens, it's probably been awhile since you were in college. Tonight, at the Pittsford Community Library, bring your teens to hear about college directly from the experts. Local teens who graduated from Pittsford high schools and recently completed their first semesters of college will 'tell it like it is' and answer your questions, such as.

• What's the one thing you wished you had taken to college that you can't live without?
• How did you decide which school was right for you?
  
• What do you do when your roommate throws parties in your room every weekend?
  

It's definitely eye opening, especially if you haven't attended college in the last 20 years. Join in the discussion from 7-9PM this evening if you have a chance.


Today's Wisdom (from the mouth of babes):
Drinking responsibly means having only one bear a day.