2/26/11: Max Learns to Play Ball

There were years when I tried to get Max, now 12, interested in sports. But he has always been more interested in hanging out with his friends, trading playing cards, and reading thick books about wizards and cat warriors and Greek mythology. This year, however, when I received a call from another parent at Max's school who was putting together a basketball team, I asked Max if he was interested. I was expecting a grimace and instead got, "Who else is playing?"

It would be an understatement to say that Max wasn't the most experienced player on the team. But he hung in there, played good defense, and improved his shooting tremendously.

Today was their last game. They ended on a win (it was a nail biter), and in the first half of the game Max made a basket that was nothing but net. Their team had a great season: 6:2, and some awesome players. I can't be objective, but I believe Max was the most improved player of the team. But it wasn't only his basketball skills that improved. He learned to stick with something, even when it was hard. Whereas he quit after two weeks of Tae Kwan Do (at age 7) and didn't make it to all of the gymnastics or swimming classes he registered for, and two years ago quit indoor soccer early on, he never missed a basketball game or a practice. In fact, he woke up one morning with a terrible head cold and I thought about keeping him home. They had a game scheduled, but I wasn't sure he should play. I left the decision up to him. At first he decided to stay home, but later he was feeling a little better and he asked me if he could go to the park and practice shooting before the game. He shot for a half-hour in the cold, then made it to the game and played well.

Last week his coach said, after they'd won their fifth game, "Max, I remember at the beginning of the season you couldn't find the ocean with the ball, and today you made the first basket of the game." Max had trouble keeping the grin off his face, so he didn't bother trying.

2/22/11 (1): Sam's Ode to Cheese

My youngest was asked by his 5th Grade teacher (along with the rest of the class) to write a "heart poem" -- a poem about something they care about a lot.

Here is Sam's "ode to cheese," in the style of one of his favorite poets, Shel Silverstein:

CHEESE ONLY
by Samuel Buchanan

I eat nothing but cheese,
And it isn't bitter.
I eat nothing but cheese,
It's my favorite breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Wait -
What about dessert?
Like Whipped Cream Burst?
Or honey?
I got it from a hive of these-
Now
I eat-
Nothing but bees.

2/22/11 (2): Unplug, At Least Through Dessert

I just read an article, posted by a friend on LinkedIn, called "I Will Check My Phone at Dinner and You Will Deal With It." It was written by a Gen-Exer whose mother considers it rude when her dinner companion continually checks his or her phone over the course of the meal. The author's main argument in favor of phone checking is the same argument every whiny teen uses: Everybody's doing it.

I'm with Mom on this one. Checking your phone at dinner stops the real connection with your dinner companion in favor of a cyber connection. In effect, it says, "Hold on while I check to see if someone more interesting than you has something to say." That is rude, but more than that, it takes you out of the present moment. Life is passing you by, Gen-X'ers! Life is here, right now, in the present moment. It is not in a box.

It's like people who continually flick the TV remote, not wanting to know what's on, just what else is on. What's "on" is your life. And it's happening in only one place: in this moment right here! Oops, it's gone. Now it's here. See what you missed when you were checking your phone?

2/19/11: Young Ghostbusters

It's official now: my youngest is a little Spielberg. He put together a sleepover playdate that was a ruse to create episode three of Young Ghostbusters. Sam directed and starred in the film, but he was also generous with the lines for his two co-stars, Anthony and Tamiko. In this episode the Young Ghostbusters visit a cemetery (Lone Fir, if you're curious: yes, I am up for Cool Mom of the Year for shooting on location) to pay their respects to departed loved ones. Anthony disrespects the spirit of a deceased GHADAP (Ghost with a Dark Past), Mr. Sly, a notorious murderer.

The GHADAP then "overshadows" (possesses) Anthony and it's up to Miko and Sam to save him. Roll tape.

2/15/11: Forgetting Little Peeps

When you overextend yourself, something usually gives. I'd been pushing very hard on a new business venture and had run out of some essential groceries. Max was at basketball practice so last night I took Sam, 11, to the store with me. We passed the holiday aisle with kiddie Valentines, and in a flash I realized that we'd not done Valentines for his fifth grade class party. I asked Sam about it. "You forgot," he said simply. "My teacher walked me to my locker and we looked, but we didn't find them." I felt awful, imagining the scene: all his classmates with their Valentine boxes (we hadn't even made one of those!), all of them giving Sam Valentines which he put in a manila envelope his teacher let him have, and Sam not having anything to share. I could just imagine how he felt.

So we bought some Cadbury eggs, and Sam did a chicken drawing (his idea: above), I scanned it, made makeshift Valentine cards, and put chicken jokes on the back. They were well received, and a surprise since they were a day late. But, as my pun-happy cousin said, I'll probably be "brooding" about this for a good long while. Eggsactly.

2/12/11: Slave Driver

I've been working far too hard lately. 15-hour days, 4 hour "power naps," and the remaining 4 hours getting everything done that needs to get done when your first name is Mom. That's what happens when you work for a slave driver (yourself). I'm writing this while waiting for my printer to finish pushing out another ream of paper. I'm pushing too. I can feel it. My dog is not getting her walks, I'm not getting my sleep and I'm definitely not eating right. I'll know in a couple of weeks whether it was all worth it. In the meantime, I will lean on my boys, my friends, my spiritual community, laughter, hot baths, good red wine and dark chocolate.

2/5/11: Thank God It's February

I don't know about you, but I couldn't wait to see 2010 from my rear-view mirror. What a tough year ... financially, emotionally. I mean, enough already! So when the New Year rolled around I had high hopes that the winds had changed. But it turned out that January was covered in 2010 cooties! Roadblocks everywhere, one stumble after another, and just enough light at the end of the tunnel to keep me from stepping in front of a train.

But I made it. And here is February, in all its glory, with the promise of Spring right around the corner. And I'm out of the tunnel in the broad light of day. I'm on an even keel emotionally. And the financial picture is looking not just rosy but downright sparkly. I'm actually having ... dare I say it??? ... fun! I've been on a creative tear: a new book in the works, several new friends, a comic sketch coming up for church, a job interview next week, and a new business ripe with possibilities. I'm laughing and making plans for the future. Plans that are dependent only on my own whims and caprices. And if my laughter is tinged with the teensiest bit of a false note, it's only because it's hard to believe that this dramatic change is real. I keep checking my rear-view mirror to make sure that 2010 isn't gaining on me.

But for the first time as a single woman I'm not dreading Valentine's Day. I'm spending it with my two favorite men, and in the days leading up to it I have outings that include laughter, wine, family, friends, and one date that slipped in there somehow. Nobody's perfect.

1/28/11: When it Comes to Skulduggery, Online Dating Wins by a Nose

I'm not a huge fan of online dating. I think the words I used were "demoralizing, dehumanizing, and debasing" ... but I may be paraphrasing. However, today, after seeing a job posting for a "creative, witty writer," I learned that there are more layers to online dating than I ever knew existed.

The job posting directed interested parties to email HR@VirtualDatingAssistants.com. Hmm. The company name gave me pause, so I looked them up—where else?—online. Based in Salem, Ore., ViDA (as the company likes to be called) caters to members of the online dating community who can't be bothered to actually write their profiles, select and email prospective dates, or handle inbound email and winks. ViDA is the Cyrano de Bergerac for the Cyber Age.

For the low, low price of just $360 per month (with no initial set-up fee!) ViDA will configure your account, write your profile, select and retouch your photo, choose candidates for you, and handle emails, winks and instant messaging. All you have to do is show up for the date, which, we're sorry, is not guaranteed with the Basic Package.

However, the Premium Package, which includes a pre-date briefing: "No, Lawrence, you can't bring your mother to the restaurant," guarantees you two dates for only $720 per month, plus an initial set-up fee of $200.

Desperate to get hooked up before Valentine's Day? Then you'll want to spring for the Executive Package, which includes a professional photo shoot, pre-date coaching: "That dress makes you look like Mrs. Doubtfire, Eric," post-date feedback: "If she didn't return from the ladies' room it wasn't indigestion," and something called, "concierge service." All this for a measley $1,440 per month, plus a one-time setup fee of $400. But ... you're guaranteed five whole dates!!! (Not with the same person, of course. For a guarantee like that you'd have to cut out the middle man and pay direct, if you get my drift.)

But gentlemen, save your money. In the few dates that I went on in my brief foray into online dating (such as the one in which I stood eye-to-eye with Mr. 5'11"), I learned that men can lie perfectly well all by themselves.

Psst, ViDA! How do you think Cyrano got such a big nose?

1/20/11: The New Family Slideshow

Growing up there were many times when several generations of our family gathered to watch old grainy Super 8 videos or flip through film canister slide shows whose slides always seemed to get stuck, flip upside down or turn sideways. This is a tradition that the current generation missed out on. Families are now too spread out for multi-generational photo sharing.

Or are they?

My cousin Ken inherited a box of family photos passed down from his mom, and her mom before her. And then he figured out an ingenious way to share these photos with the whole family (or most of us, anyway) ... on Facebook.

Ken created a family photo album, The Meacham Branch (and albums for other branches as well), tagged the photos and posted them for all to see. I can now see (and comment on, if I choose) photos of relatives I've never had photos of before -- even some I'd shared with my grandmother that I thought were lost forever. Sometimes technology giveth, sometimes it taketh away. In this case I am immensely grateful for the cyber magic.

The above photo was taken in the early 1900s in Drain, Oregon. It's of my great grandfather, Sidney Meacham, Sr. When I posted about this photo in the comments section on Facebook I wrote, "We come from a long line of people who hang deer by their hind legs." My cousin Randy (Ken's brother, who lives in Central Oregon) posted back, "Yes.....and if the family blood runs true I'll bet it's NOT deer season!!!" As I read that and laughed out loud (it's true!), I swear I could hear a film reel flapping in the background.

1/19/11: Thank You, Cornelia!

One of Sam's favorite authors, Cornelia Funke, writes a series called Ghost Hunters in which a middle-aged woman, an 11-year-old boy and "Hugo," an ASG (Averagely Spooky Ghost) track down and rid hapless humans of ghostly apparitions. Sam reads the books, draws the characters, and makes up his own versions of ghosts which he draws. He joined her fan club, and she very sweetly sent him two books and an audio book series on 6 CDs. All autographed, all with original drawings by her in the front, and all addressed to Sam.

As a thank you, Sam sent her this video of him drawing Hugo. Ms. Funke wrote back that she was sooooooooo impressed with his drawing ease, his pace, and that he was already "a master" artist. Here's the video.

1/7/11: With Warm Appreciation

It's rainy, it's cold, and Monday (when Oregon beats out Auburn for the most coveted trophy in college football!!!) we're supposed to see temperatures in the mid 20's, but it's hard to complain. It is winter, after all.

When the thermometer reads this far below my beloved Maui's year-round temperatures (75-85!) I go insular. I stay inside with a cup of hot chocolate or a hot buttered rum, catch up on correspondence and make phone calls I've been postponing. I practice my ukulele, make homemade soup and stews, play Monopoly with my sons, and occasionally, in quiet moments, reflect on how lucky we are to have a working furnace, a roof over our heads, family nearby, food in the cupboard, and friends we can count on. Mostly I am grateful that winter only lasts three months.

1/4/11: Carving Elephants

How do you carve an elephant out of a block of marble? Simple. You cut away anything that doesn’t look like an elephant.

I am raising two boys, running three businesses, have two more in the making, own and manage 12 Web sites, have 16 email addresses, volunteer at church, run a Mastermind program with 10 members—or is it 11?—and am starting a six-month business coaching program this week (fortunately as a participant, not the facilitator, and probably just in the nick of time). I recently wrote and published a book and developed a seminar (and 3 Web sites to support them) that I've not had time to market. Even I know I'm running in circles: I can see the trench I've created.

As I look toward a new year of possibility, I realize that I'm not starting with a blank canvas on which to paint a new landscape. That's an image for 20-somethings. I'm starting with block of marble that has taken me decades to excavate, and hopefully won't take me decades to carve.

Michelangelo said he saw an angel in the marble and simply "set it free." But I don't see an angel and I don't see an elephant. I see marble. And it's heavy and dense and opaque. I know it's up to me to carve away anything that shouldn't be there. But first I have to know what is supposed to be there. I know the answers lie within, and that's where I'll be looking.

The only thing I'm sure of at this point: I'm keeping the boys.

12/29/10: Inane Rituals

I received three new phone books at my doorstep yesterday. As I did last year, I pulled my old phone books out of the cupboard where they have been stored, untouched, since the last time I received three new phone books at my doorstep, and replaced them with the new ones.

Do we really need three phonebooks, or even ONE when we can get that information so much easier on the Internet, or in a pinch, dial 411? I think even DEX knows this makes no sense.

Today I placed my old phone books in the recycling bin, just as I do every year. It feels good to recycle, usually. This time, it just felt ... stupid. Nationally, only 20% of phonebooks are recycled.

Here's a solution, from DEQ's Web site:

Opt Out from Receiving Phone Books:

Here's how to contact the phone book publishers to ask that you not receive so many phone books.

•DEX/Qwest
1 Go to www.selectyourdex.com. Select "Directory Options" at bottom page.
2. Enter your zipcode and click through screens until you see "Personalize Your Directory Order."
3. Fill in your address and contact information, and select "0" for the number of directories you wish to receive from the dropdown menus.

Or call 1-866-606-9339 and press 2 to speak with a representative.

•Yellow Book
Call 1-800-929-3556 and press 2 to speak with a representative.

•Other Phone Books
Check on the front cover or inside page for a customer service number to "order directories." Or visit www.yellowpagesoptout.com.

12/28/10: A Spielberg is Born

Sam loves the idea of making movies, especially cartoon movies. He spends hours drawing story boards, promo copy for the DVD cases, and trailers. He is intrigued by sound effects and will freeze-frame a video many times to study how something is drawn. Here is his first video trailer on YouTube (he has done one other YouTube video here, which he did the illustrations and voice-over for). For the above trailer he drew 48 illustrations (in a feverish hour or two yesterday), and timed the PowerPoint pacing to the audio, ending the visuals with the audio perfectly. I was camera.

When I saw the finished product on YouTube, I high-fived him and said, "We did a great job!" He got a little quiet, and then hugged (me to soften the blow, apparently) and said, "Well, actually, it was my idea. But you helped!"

12/25/10: Merry Christmas!

Sam's Christmas list this year was pretty simple: a teddy bear, a few DVDs, a few books. He still believes in Santa Claus, probably because he finally "gets" Christmas. For several years, the idea of it escaped him; he couldn't have told you what it was all about. Once things started to gel, he was over the moon with excitement. Yes, 11 is a little old to still believe, but he's making up for lost time.

Max had big dreams on his Christmas list: Lego sets over $100 each, an I-Pad, an I-Phone. None of that happened. Yes, his dad got him the X-Box 360 he's been asking for for the last six months (and that STAYS at his dad's house, thank you very much), but I think I got him something that will last a lot longer, one that will pay dividends for years to come.

This year for Christmas, I gave Max a journal, one I will write in. I will use it to write down special things about this special man throughout the year, and I'll leave it in a conspicuous place so he can leaf through it any time he wants. The thing is, at age 12, Max has decided to butt heads with me on a semi-regular basis. So I end up having to come down hard on him on a semi-regular basis, something I'd rather not do. I miss my little buddy. I know the teen years are coming, and I want to make sure we go into them with a solid understanding of the love that exists between us, and not just a series of arguments to look back on.

Max's favorite gift from me? A trip to the mountains. We missed skiing last year because I have a Mini Cooper, and, well, you know. So this year we're catching the ski bus, just the two of us. My little buddy and me.

12/24/10: 'Twas the Nightmare Before Christmas, or ... Next Time, Swanson's!

As a special treat, and because Max had been asking about it, I took the boys to Huber's for Christmas Eve dinner. I was looking forward to the Spanish coffee! The place was jam-packed, but I'd called ahead and we were lucky enough to snag a table, however it was right between the loud part of the restaurant and the very loud part of the restaurant (the bar). Before we were seated, the maitre d' asked me if we needed children's menus. I told him no.

But when I looked at the regular menu, I noticed the prices were about $8 more than the last time I was at Huber's, less than three weeks ago. Then I noticed "Special Christmas Eve Menu" printed on them. What was "special" is the menu selections were cut to 20% of the regular menu and the prices were jacked up by 50%. I walked back to the front of the restaurant for the children's menu. It was abbreviated even more, down to two items: turkey and ham. No description at all, just those two words, but at least the prices were reasonable. Max, however, wasn't. "I want prime rib," he said, pointing to the "special" menu. ($34.95.) I said no. "Then I want a turkey leg." ($23.95.) I told him he could either have turkey or ham from the kid's menu ($10.95). Much arguing ensued, but I stuck to my guns. So he proceeded to complain and pout about that for nearly 25 minutes while we waited for our food. All the while, Sam is talking excitedly about how he "can't wait for Christmas!" He is almost bursting and keeps jumping out of his chair to hug me.

I went to extreme measures to change Max's mood, including dancing at the table to try to embarass him into a smile. (And no: I hadn't had my Spanish coffee yet, and even decided against wine in anticipation of that delight. I do my best dancing stone cold sober.) My bee bopping entertained a party waiting to be seated, but I was only able to get the slightest smile from Max.

After our food arrived, Max was in a better mood, especially when I added my helping of mashed potatoes to his own. Then it came time for dessert. Pumpkin pie came with the kids' meals, but Max doesn't like it, and Sam can't have gluten, so I asked our waiter about our dessert options. He went through about six items including the chocolate mousse and a brownie sundae. Max's face lit up for that (finally, some Christmas joy in his eyes!). I ordered the Spanish coffee I'd been anticipating all meal, and we waited. A few minutes later the waiter came back and said, "The only thing for dessert is pumpkin pie." Say, what?

I explained I was willing to pay for the desserts, thinking he meant that the pie was included, but the others choices weren't. He said, "Sorry, the kitchen says we're only serving pumpkin pie for dessert." I told him we'd skip dessert then. He asked if I still wanted my Spanish coffee. You know I did!!!, but I couldn't see myself sitting there enjoying it while the boys waited, dessert-less, so we left. If only I'd ordered it WITH my meal!

So what started out as a special evening ended up to be a royal pain in the egg nog.

Well, at least there's hot buttered rum mix in the freezer ...

12/8/10 Love: The Power Within Us

We are so much more than these meat sacks we pack around. Watch this video (by a favorite scientist and researcher of mine, Gregg Braden) that shows the profound power of love and connection. This is not just a story about twins: we all have the power of love within us, and we are all connected.

After the video has played here is a photo of the twins that is easier to see (but if you click on it now you'll stop the video unless you open up a new browser).

12/7/10 Virus, Schmirus

My computer got a virus today. Apparently it hasn't been taking enough Vitamin C this flu season, and a malicious "System Tool" virus attacked it, wreaking havoc with my anti-virus protection software, my desktop, and all my applications. I believe the virus came from a free Facebook app, but several friends who'd also used the app had no issues with it. I tried logging into Facebook to warn others but the virus didn't allow that (it was feeling cranky, apparently). A huge message covered my desktop stating "Your Computer is Infected" and directed me to a web site where I could purchase a new anti-virus application thru StopZilla. Instead I got online on my sons' laptop (it pays to have more than one computer in the house). There, I learned how to wipe out a virus.

Do try this at home: If your beloved cyber pal ever gets a virus: 1) Shut down your computer; 2) Reboot your computer but as it's booting, keep hitting the F8 key repeatedly until it pops up with a blue (or black, depending on your monitor) screen with lines of code. Scroll (using your up and down arrows) to "Safe Mode with Networking." Hit ENTER. After several moments (you may have to hit ENTER again) you'll have a "safe" version of your desktop back. From here you can run a scan or better yet, do a system restore back to an earlier version before your computer was infected. And, voila! Your computer has a clean bill of health.

Wouldn't it be great if we had restore points on our lives? I can think of a few places I would put mine ...

12/2/10 Ten Heads are Better than One

I belong to a Mastermind group. Ten business owners who meet weekly for an hour and share ideas, set goals, and brainstorm issues. It is the single best thing I've ever done for my business. Imagine having 9 business coaches at your disposal weekly (and on call 24x7!). Imagine setting and being held accountable to your business goals every seven days. In the 10 months or so we've been meeting I've seen our businesses grow, even during a weakened economy. I've seen long-held dreams reach fruition. And I've seen incredible support and generosity of spirit. Yeah. It's that good. Don't have a Mastermind? Get one.

11/15/10 Celebrating Women

I had an awesome retreat this weekend with a group of women from my church. "Retreat" is a relative term: we did get away from "work," but we worked very hard. It was inner work, which of course is the hardest kind.

I learned a lot about myself, and I left enough baggage behind to choke the Spruce Goose. But the coolest part of the weekend was that I was able to connect on a deeper level with some wonderful women from my church, Unity of Portland. Every Sunday we have a great hospitality hour, but it doesn't compare to going 1:1 with someone about the largest issues of their life. We bared our souls in the safest environment possible: among women of substance, spirituality and love. We laughed, we cried, we hugged. A lot.

Every Sunday we give voice to how all of humanity is connected. But the retreat gave us a chance to deepen that connection. And now when I see these women at church, we will remember and smile.

I can't wait to do it all again next year.

11/8/10: Retreating

I'm headed to a retreat this weekend with a group of women from my church. Music, storytelling, meditation, journaling, drumming, singing and dancing. No Internet. An excerpt from the retreat brochure reads, "[As women] our capacity to care holds the promise of midwifing the future we dream of, and yet our sensitivity often takes us on side trips into self-pity and unnecessary suffering." Amen to that, sister. I've been gorging on self-pity and unnecessary suffering lately. Where's a Roman vomitorium when you need one?

Dr. Sue Morter, a kick-butt speaker who helps people connect the dots between science, spirit and human possibility, says that we tend to create pain boxes for ourselves, climb in them, and then bust our way out just so we can say, "Look what I just did! Aren't I great?" If you think about it, every source of pain in your life had one thing in common: you. We are all creators of our own lives, willing participants in every comedy, tragedy and drama. Wherever you go, there you are. And from that, there is no retreat. Damn.

11/6/10: Food for Thought

My boys have some favorite dishes they request over and over:chicken enchiladas, crockpot chili w/cornbread, and boeuf bourguignon (which they call beef stew), loaded with chanterelle mushrooms, pearl onions and baby carrots in a savory wine and beef stock gravy.

I love cooking for them when I know they'll eat it, and when I know what the ingredients are. I buy organic meat and produce whenever possible, and I have a firm rule: no high fructose corn syrup. But even I make mistakes now and then. When I bought some red currant jelly for the bourguignon (a tablespoon goes in at the end to give the gravy a nice red color and tangy flavor), I didn't think to check the label. This morning as I was getting ready to put some jelly on my toast I turned the label over, and sure enough: high fructose corn syrup. I threw the rest of the jar away, and vowed to be more careful next time. Why does the food industry keep adding this ingredient, which is a non-food, indigestible by humans, to everything from desserts to crackers to jelly? Because it's cheap and sweet, two attributes the American public eats up without thinking what they're really costing them in terms of their health. Like hormone-loaded chicken and beef, and margarine with all sorts of unhealthy ingredients, when sweet, creamy butter is available and digestible and much better for you.

I'm making crockpot chili and cornbread tonight, with real butter for the cornbread (and maybe a glass of pinot noir for the cook). Red wine is good for you, too...

11/5/10: Try to Remember

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow;
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow:

Try to remember the kind of September
When you were a tender and callow fellow.
Try to remember, and if you remember, then follow.
Try to remember when life was so tender,
That no one wept except the willow;
Try to remember when life was so tender,
That dreams were kept beside your pillow;

Try to remember when life was so tender,
That love was an ember about to billow.
Try to remember, and if you remember, then follow.

Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
Although you know the snow will follow;
Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
Without a hurt, the heart is hollow;

Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
The fire of September that makes us mellow.
Try to remember, and if you remember, then follow.

My sister Kathlene sent me an email this morning asking me if I remembered Huckleberry Hound and Pixie and Dixie and Mr. Jinks. I did. I showed a Pixie and Dixie cartoon on YouTube to my youngest, Sam, who giggled. Some things never go out of style. Like the humor of a cat getting outwitted by a mouse. Like wistful memories. And beautiful, poignant lyrics. I was struggling through the chords of Try to Remember on my ukulele when I received her email, and called Sam to see the video. Every day I hope that what I leave behind me will be worth remembering. I know my best chance for that is with my beautiful children.

11/2/10: Out of the Mouths of Babes

I'm just coming down from the post-Halloween rush and have time at last to revisit the memories. A favorite memory will always be this: Sam, Soroush (his best buddy), Soroush's dad and I walking Cascade Heights neighborhood in West Linn. Because it's the closest neighborhood without any hills, the crowds were teriffic -- more sidewalk traffic than my visit to New York last year. The decorations were fantastic: giant blow-up spiders, intricately carved jack-o-lanterns, dry ice foggers. Sam, dressed as Count Dracula, trick-or-treated at one house and the lady who answered the door held out a bowl full of candy and asked him if he wanted a Kit-Kat or a Baby Ruth bar. Kit-Kat's have gluten (a no-no for Sam) and Baby Ruth's have peanuts (another no-no). Sam said, "Um ... well ... there are some candies I can't have." The lady looked sad and he waved at her, smiled brightly and said, "That's OK. Have a Happy Halloween anyway!" Pretty amazing for a 10-year-old.

This morning as he was getting dressed for school, Sam is already asking me, "I wonder what I should be next year for Halloween?"

I wanted to tell him, "Just keep being who you are," but I don't think he would have understood.