Sometimes the Light Is Your Friend

Catching up on a post I've been meaning to get to for months now. We spent Thanksgiving last year at Stacy's parents house in Agua Dulce. We got there well before the festivities, so Stacy and the kids and I took a hike in Vasquez Rocks State Park which is literally bordering their property. We caught it in that sweet-spot time of day when the sun is still bright, but lowering. The landscape, which is always stunning, was transfigured; everything turned golden and glistened with highlights.

 No real story to report. Just pictures. A LOT of pictures...

Girls Just Wanna Have Pho

There was no protest whatsoever yesterday afternoon when I suggested we go out for ramen noodle soup for dinner. L and N danced around the house like I'd suggested Disneyland and Stacy sank a little deeper into the couch, knowing she was no longer late getting dinner started. Around 5:30 we piled in the car and headed up the street to our favorite ramen cave, Shisen Ramen. The kids were arguing over how many gyoza, those little Japanese potstickers, they would eat and just how many letters you could make out of two sets of chopsticks. But as we rounded the corner into the parking lot our hopes were dashed. We'd forgotten they didn't open until 6:00.

Fully committed to Japanese soup, we were in quite a tizzy.  We quickly assessed our options (quite a few, fortunately), and the kids recited off a litany of acceptable fallback plans. The various ramen and pho joints suggested were all family favorites and any would have sufficed in our pinch, but I had another idea and suggested it to Stacy. Back on our anniversary last month Stacy and I had tried going to one of our favorite udon places, but it was closed (also for an extended afternoon siesta... Hmmm I should be learning from this...), so we went into the place next door since it was still open. It was called Gaja and specialized in traditional udon soup and in okonomiyaki, which we had never heard of. It turns out it is a Japanese style fritter or savory pancake, with lots of chopped vegetables like cabbage and ginger in it. It can be topped with meat or pretty much anything you want. It comes in a batter and you cook it yourself on a teppan grill right at your table. The staff had been so friendly and helpful and we had had such a good time that we'd vowed to come back. I suggested fulfilling that vow and Stacy hesitated a bit, but agreed. (I think the initial visions of L and N around a hot teppan grill were not easy things for her to get past.)

So we turned around and headed to Lomita to Gaja.

The kids, as we've come to love and trust, were excited to try something new. The first excitement were the set of hand fans set around the table to ward off the heat of the teppan. Once they fired up our grill our pre-dinner entertainment consisted of summoning up mild hurricanes upon on another until the food arrived.

The kids, still focused on soup, got huge bowls of udon - each a little bigger than they were. Stacy and I got the okonomiyaki and managed to fry it up there without inadvertently frying up any family members. Once you are done cooking it you dress it up with all these sauces and condiments, the most bizarre being these fish shavings. They are small and onionskin thin and as soon as you scatter them on top of the okonomiyaki they start waving and wiggling around in the warm air, looking unsettlingly like leeches on the bottom of a bog. But they sure are tasty leeches!

While we were eating L reminded us that Sunday was Japanese Girl's Day, a holiday her school emphasizes because of the large Japanese population there. So it turns out we were able to able to honor our little pseudo-Japanese princess with udon and writhing fish shavings.

Mōichido kite itadaki arigatōgozaimasu!

Blood Relative

N and beloved Mrs. Shepard on Valentine's Day

Over the last few weeks N has been dealing with a left-over a flu that seems to come and go as it pleases and won't quite ride off into the sunset. Stacy was growing concerned so she took him to the pediatrician who recommended some blood work. Drawing his blood did not seem to be too traumatizing for him; on the contrary, it seemed to awaken a whole new realm of scientific inquiry for him. Last night as I was lying next to him in his bed during "cuddle time" I congratulated him on being such a big boy at the lab. From that reference sprang a 20 minute discussion of blood and blood types and all things hematological. We talked about how some people have blood with A-chemicals in it, and some have blood with B-chemicals, and how some people have blood with neither and some with both. We went through all the permutations of who can give what to whom, much to N's unflagging interest. At one point he got somber for a bit and expressed his anxiety at not knowing if he had A-chemicals or B-chemicals, because he wanted to be able to give his blood to Mommy or Daddy right away if the need were to arise. He also postulated that B+ blood must be significantly darker than B- blood.

When I was six, blood was just red and gross.

You Look Remarkably Familiar...

Friday was "Twin Day" at L and N's school.  We had Grampa Lefty's funeral that afternoon, but it would have been inconceivable to miss twin day, especially since all their friends had been making desperate phone calls all week trying to lock down doppelgangers and coordinate outfits.  So the kids got to replicate for a few hours in the morning

L, ever one of the boys, joined and her friends, C and E in uniform.

C, E and L, going for the triple play.

N and his fellow Tiger Cub M donned their uniforms as well.

Even N's teacher, Mrs. Shepard and her aide got into the spirit of it!

Passing On

Yesterday afternoon we attended the funeral of Stacy's grandfather, Lefty Harris, affectionately known as GGPa. It was a beautiful service in a beautiful location. It seems almost too beautiful a day for a funeral. Uncle Kyle, Stacy, the kids and I met at Forest Lawn in Glendale a little early and said our goodbyes to Lefty - just us and Lefty. He looked so peaceful and serene, but so frail and small. It was a very comforting time, and the kids handled it beautifully. I was very proud of them. L, who is prone to get worked up and conflicted in emotional times, was simply sweet and wonderful and sad. N stood the whole time at the edge of the casket, somber and thoughtful. He patted Lefty's hand told him he loved him.

We joined the rest of the family and friends at the graveside where we were surprised to find an honor guard on station and the coffin draped in a flag. "Taps" was played and the flag presented to Stacy's dad Kirk. It was very moving. Reverend Greg Bero, our pastor from our home church, presided over the funeral. Grandma Bunny, Lefty's wife of 69 years was able to come and stay for the majority of it. It was especially appropriate because it is impossible to have a tribute to Lefty apart from Bunny. The two have been indivisible.

After reading the eulogy, Pastor Greg asked if anyone had anything they would like to share. N, who was sitting on Stacy's lap in the front row, immediately raised his hand. Pastor Greg called him up and he stood next to Greg; he had been crying and his eyes were all puffy. "He was always nice to me," he whispered to Greg, then buried his face in Greg's legs.  After the service concluded L had some notes she had written that she put into the grave with the coffin.

After the service the crowd regrouped at the Harris family home in Burbank, now standing empty, but dusted out for the occasion. It was strange and wonderful to hear the noise and commotion throughout the place again, perhaps for the last time. The gathering, which had been advertised as being an hour or two, went well into the night and it was only the exhaustion of the day that finally reluctantly disbursed the crowd.

Good bye, Lefty. You were a man to know and emulate, and you will be greatly missed.