My love affair with blown glass.

There's something about blown glass that intrigues me. It's like the ocean -- fluid, changing. It looks different as the light changes. I like how the basic elements of glassblowing haven't changed in 2,000 years. It's still just fire, movement, gravity and centrifugal force. I probably should collect blown glass. Or maybe I already do?

The first time Dave and I went to Venice together, in our 20s, we were so overwhelmed by the amount and variety of glass that we didn't buy any. When we went back for our 10th anniversary we visited the island of Murano, where Venetian glassblowing has taken place since it was banished there in the 13th century for fear of burning down the city of Venice. We made a point to pick up a significant piece, hand carried it back, and it's been displayed in our bedroom ever since.

Our family makes an annual trek to the Cohn Stone Studios in Richmond each fall to see the glass pumpkins and we often stay a few hours, unable to pull ourselves away from the talented tradespeople creating the pumpkins before our very eyes.

I remember looking long and hard at the blown glass jellyfish in Hawaii, fascinated that such a delicate animal could be replicated in glass.

While we were on the cruise in Mexico two Thanksgivings ago I listened to a speaker on a glassblower who creates in the style of waves. While this particular style of blown glass wasn't to my taste, it was an interesting talk and fascinating to learn about the techniques used to create this kind of art.

And recently I read a mediocre piece of historical fiction called The Glassblower of Murano, where I learned that huge glass chandeliers are transported hung in large vessels of water. It makes sense once you think about it.

Given all this, it's no surprise that Paris and I visited the Chihuly Gardens in Seattle in January. The gardens are just 18 months old and include both indoor and outdoor space. Look at the floral piece in the photo above. It's 100 feet long and made up of 1,400 different pieces. This space, called the Glasshouse, must be available for event rentals. The Gardens contain eight galleries which are dark except for the art, lit all different ways.

Dale Chihuly is Seattle native, best known for his large-scale installations. That humongous floral chandelier in the Bellagio hotel? That's Chihuly. We also saw four of his pieces in the casino at Atlantis. Strangely, the largest public display of his work is in Oklahoma City. Inexpensive land? He also went to school at my alma mater, the University of Wisconsin in Madison. Once you get a visual grasp on how large his works are, you understand why he established the team approach to glass blowing. It would be interesting to know how it's all assembled so that the pieces don't break.

I look at the purple glass below and wonder how the glass doesn't break when it's very windy outside. I will be back in Seattle for a week this summer and plan to return to the Gardens so I can take my time through it.

Blue and yellow make green.

My brother, my dad, Tori, and I played poker on the last night of the annual three-generation ski trip. We didn't have poker chips up so we played with pastel colored M&Ms. It definitely changes the game when the colors don't have a set value. At one point my brother was out of greens so my father reminded us that blue and yellow make green. And then, after laughing hysterically, we continued.

It was also funny when, on the way home from Northstar, we talked about a book I've had on my Tahoe nightstand for several years. It's on the Donner Party. I started telling my brother that I've been meaning to read this book and my father said, "Oh. It's a cookbook?!" Again, hilarious. But only if you know California history.

We had three days of beautiful weather and togetherness. The snow is what you'd expect from the amount of rain we've had this year-- minimal. The best ski conditions are in the morning and you'd think that being right here on the mountain we'd be the first ones out. But no, we're a little lazy that way. Especially Tori. I love the way she skis with my brother -- more aggressively and without whining. He challenges her.

My rocket scientist moment occurred when I took my boots back to Granite Chief because they'd been bothering me. The guy in the boot department managed to keep a straight face when letting me know that the likely reason they hurt was because I'd put new liners in without first removing the old ones! Lovely. Being able to laugh at yourself is a gift.

February's Flowers

They're purple and grey and green with a little orange and made of cotton. And they're sewn together with lots of love and a super soft minky backside. Then they're mailed to a city on the eastern seaboard, a city still cold and snowy and deep into winter. To my cousin Jodi who needs to know that her California cousins are thinking of her and wishing they were there to make her matzoh ball soup to nourish her during her chemo appointments.

For now February's flowers will have to do.

Hanging out with Sophia

Do you recognize the smiley girl on the right? Yeah, neither did I. Apparently she's an 11-year-old dance wunderkind, a role model for miniature dancers worldwide.

As it turned out, Sophia Lucia was at the same dance competition Liberty was over the weekend. And she was sweet enough to pop this picture with Liberty. She was also classy enough not to audition along with the other children, leaving them with a chance to win scholarships and receive recognition, which Liberty did in the form of a jazz award.

This was the last dance convention of the season. From here on out it's just performances and competitions. Up next: Disneyland, which Dave will take her to. Paris and I will be at the annual NCL mother-daughter tea.

The smile says it all.

I'm not supposed to blog about Paris. She tells me that it violates her privacy and makes her uncomfortable, too. However, today's milestone is too good to keep to myself.

Here's your hint. My friend Sharon Cohen posted this to my Facebook Page: Welcome to the New Driver's Parent Club. Valium is to the left. Martinis are to the right. The sound booth for screaming at insurance costs is straight ahead.

Yes, that day is here. She got her driver's license. I knew she would pass on the first try, just like I knew I wouldn't. She is a good driver. (For the record, my 16th birthday was the day we moved into our Anchorage house. My father and I pulled the five-speed out of the shipping container and I took the test in that, a car I had not driven in three months, on the ice covered roads of an Anchorage winter day.)

The proud mother in me is jumping up and down in happiness for her, and for our new freedom. The scared mother in me knows what's to come: worrying about her driving in the rain, worrying about her navigating the turkeys that linger on the roadside every fall or the bikers that speed out of Diablo, through the stop sign.

Dave deserves all the credit for helping her reaching this milestone. He spent hundreds of hours with her behind the wheel of the car.

Be safe, sweetheart. Be safe.

My firstborn is 16 today.

Random Thoughts:

• How could this be? Wasn't she just born like yesterday?!
• Can we take back teaching her to drive?
• I hope her feet grow one more half size so we can share shoes.
• Can we turn back the clock?
• Will we ever be able to see the floor of her room again? Or the bathroom counter? I picked out that carpet and tile, you know?
• I want to wear her Free People clothes. Will I ever fit in them?
• Is Dave as freaked out about this 16 thing as I am?
• This makes me feel old. Does it make my parents feel really old?
• How did my sister-in-law deal with this when her daughters turned 16?
• Seriously, how do we turn back the clock?
• Alternatively, can I lock her up in her room and throw away the key until she's 18? Or 21?
• Why does she need so many clothes?
• How much of my hair has turned gray in the last 16 years?
• Will we kill each other on the trip we're taking together Spring Break?
• I must research arranged marriages.
• Should I bring her a Tuxedo Hot Chocolate or a Vanilla Bean Frappuccino between classes?
• Thank g/d she is not into the same things I was at her age.
• This is a big day, a big deal. I'm so proud of her and happy she's my daughter.

Happy birthday sweet girl.

The University of Washington

Often I look at Eldest Daughter and am shocked at what I see. She is so together, so ambitious and focused at this age. Add to that long brown hair, long legs and ridiculously long eyelashes that she lengthens with mascara. Is this child even mine?!

We experienced our first college tour together Monday at the University of Washington. It was cold and foggy, unlike the perfect, sunny day prior when we played tourist.

I didn’t take any college tours before I went off into the Wild, Wild (mid) West. Did they even do official college tours back then?! I remember visiting a friend at UCLA and another at Cal. And that was it. This child will visit many schools on her journey to pick one.

Our Beyonce-look-alike tour guide could simultaneously speak, smile with all of her face and gesticulate broadly with her hands. She was a perfect promotional vehicle for the school – all sweetness and light. We walked through the quad, the library, the computer science building, the union. We learned about the 800 student run organizations (aka clubs) and that California provides the second highest number of students to UW after the state of Washington. We learned that the average undergrad receives their degree in 4.1 years (what does that .1 mean anyway?!) and that 70% of freshman live on campus.

It was surprising to me how much the tour was a sales job. But then again I had nothing to compare it with. I worked very hard to keep my mouth shut during the tour so as not to influence Eldest Daughter's observations. Eldest Daughter and I both loved how the UW is a community within the large Seattle community. She mentioned it first. Remember, my mouth was clamped tightly shut. The setting is spectacular – on the lake with views of the ocean and Mt. Rainier and the Olympic Range. Although the school is large, 28,000 undergrads, the campus is fairly compact and the buildings were visually interesting. It’s a pretty campus. Eldest Daughter kept commenting on that.

This makes me wonder how much the physical appearance of a school influences its student appeal. I never gave it any thought. Madison, my UW, had a lot of beautiful old, historic buildings. In fact, I had classes in one that was built in 1851. Bascom Hall, the building most people associate with the school, was built in 1910. I never appreciated it although I did think the campus scenic with its location on the isthmus between Lake Mendota and Lake Monona.

One more down. TBD how many more to go.