Ugh.

So, Torii is an Angel. We all knew it was coming, I've been braced for it for two years, and given that the last couple of weeks have been jam-packed with school musical performances, the Thanksgiving holiday, Mother Bear Project appearances and preparing for DemiGoddess the Elder's Super Sweet Sixteen Birthday Blowout Bonanza (I've hired Hannah Montana to entertain, Ben & Jerry will be staffing the ice cream bar, and each guest will receive their own Hummer in a pink satin party bag), I haven't had a lot of time to get overly upset about it.

But now the speculation vacuum that Mr. Hunter left behind is filling in with rumors concerning Mi Corazón. I warned my boss yesterday that I've already started saving up sick time, because if Johan goes anywhere, it will be a few days before I'll be able to get out of bed.

He actually thought I was joking.

World AIDS Day

I’m wearing red today, and so is DemiGoddess the Elder. When she reminded me this morning that today is World Aids Day, and informed me that she and all her friends had made plans to wear red to school, I was already wearing a red sweater simply by coincidence. I was simultaneously proud and embarassed to have been educated by Ms. Elder's clearly superior social conscience. But I think my red sweater still counts.

The magnitude of this epidemic seems overwhelming, but there are lots of ways we all can take action to help alleviate some of the suffering caused by HIV/AIDS in the world. Below are a few links to some of my personal favorite non-profits that already working to make a difference:

Mother Bear Project

Make a bear. Make a donation. Or, for the holidays, sponsor a bear for $10 in someone else’s name, and receive a thank-you letter that you can present to that person as a gift. The website also has knitting kits for sale for $15, which make great gifts—the kit includes yarn, handmade needles, a pattern, a tag, and a brochure about the Mother Bear Project. One knitter gave them to her whole family, even the fellas, last year, and wrote a great story about what happened afterwards, which is posted on the website here.

Open Arms

Open Arms delivers meals to people living with HIV/AIDS, both locally in Minneapolis/St. Paul and in South Africa. Their website includes volunteer opportunities, information on the World AIDS Day Beaded Artwork sale that is happening in downtown Minneapolis tomorrow, and links to make donations. They help distribute Mother Bear Project bears in South Africa.

Arm in Arm in Africa

This is another Minnesota-based group that works to alleviate suffering, improve conditions and create opportunities for changing the cycle of poverty and disease in South Africa. They also partner with the Mother Bear Project in distributing bears to HIV/AIDS impacted children.

World Camps

World Camps provide fun and educational camp experiences for HIV/AIDS affected children in developing nations. They distribute Mother Bear Project bears to the children in these camps, and the thank-you notes I received a few months ago were from kids who had received my bears there.

“It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope.”
--Robert F. Kennedy

Items I Am Thankful For

The new roof on my house, which appears to have fixed my leaky sunroom problem.

Palm’s Bakery. May it never, ever close its doors again.

Flogging Molly’s “Drunken Lullabies” CD.

The third lane on Highway 100 that opened a few months ago, reducing my daily commute from 25 minutes to 12.

My new digital camera, the awesomest of birthday gifts, which took fantastic photos of DemiGoddess the Elder during her final performance of the school musical last weekend.

Justin Morneau’s bat. (Congratulations to the new American League MVP! )

Flirtinis.

CO Bigelow Mentha Lip Tint, Bath and Body Works Warm Vanilla Sugar hand cream, Mac Fluidline eyeliner, and Bare Escentuals Mineral Veil. Also the hair dye that I do not need yet, but am nevertheless comforted by the existence of. And, for the time being, tweezers.

The Caribou Coffee that finally opened a few weeks ago, three blocks from my house.

My Honda Civic, which just passed the 100,000 mile mark and still runs like a champ.

The lunch buffet at Surabhi Indian Cuisine.

Circular knitting needles.

The wreath my dad brought me back from his trip to the lake last week.

12-Hour Sudafed.

Alpaca wool mittens.

Lilacs, apple blossoms, pansies, and the roses that appear on my dining room table on every fifth of the month.

And, last but far from least, I am thankful for the hand written notes I received a couple of months ago from two little girls in South Africa, thanking me for the bears I made. (Even though they made me cry.)

I’m Not Dead

But I did attend a Dio de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) party last weekend at the Fabulous Miss Amy’s beautiful (and, in spite of what she says, very CLEAN) home last weekend. Attendees had two assignments: 1) To knit up one of these:

and 2) to bring a food to share that would honor a loved one who has died.

I didn’t knit a day of the dead doll, because all I ever knit any more is Mother Bear Project bears, but my Grandma used to knit for charity all the time, so I figured my latest bear could represent her efforts. And anyway, I never could have topped Connie's creation:


The food would pose an even greater challenge. My Grandma was a legendary cook. She was a home economics teacher for many years, and loved nothing more than to get in the kitchen and get her hands dirty (and pretty much everything else in the room while she was at it).

When I thought about what dishes reminded me most of her, the first thing that came to mind was one that I won’t be making until Thanksgiving—creamed onions. The foundation of most of my Grandma’s signature recipes are butter and/or heavy cream, you see. The next thing was twice-baked potatoes, a fairly involved recipe that I only make for Christmas Eve dinner. Because, apparently, I only cook when required to by a holiday.

Then I thought of a little item my family calls simply “Grandma Cake.” It’s a devil’s food layer cake, with each layer split in two so there are really four layers. Freshly whipped cream (sweetened with a smidge of powdered sugar and vanilla) goes between each of the layers, and then the whole thing is covered in chocolate frosting. It’s like a giant Ho-Ho, only way, way better. But I had already asked my sister Betsy to make me one for my birthday, and two Grandma Cakes in the same week would be more decadence than even I could handle.

So, once again, Trader Joe’s came to my rescue in the form of Artichoke Antipasto and a jar of Olive Tapenade. Because, you know, Grandma also loved artichokes. And she always put olives on the relish trays at family dinners.

My favorite Trader fella must have appreciated the gesture, because yesterday he left me a very special voicemail, wishing me a happy birthday, and asking me to marry him! It’s true! And even though his voice sounded suspiciously like a slightly deeper version of DemiGoddess the Elder’s, I am totally going to say YES!

Just as soon as I figure out how to call him back, because my intended forgot to leave his number.

Johan Santana Bear

Already on his way to Africa, he is almost as cuddly as the real thing.

It's just... that I've been so very busy...

So, okay, it’s been a tiny bit more than "a few days," and I apologize for that. A number of blog-worthy things have been going on, which I’ll get to later (really). But today I am sunburned and little bit weary after my second Pride festival in the Mother Bear Project booth.

The DemiGoddesses were with their dad over the weekend, so I was on my own this time, much to Mother Bear Amy's disappointment. We managed without them, but the event was simply not the same without the mad bear-sponsoring skillz the Demis have demonstrated on many an occasion.

Fellow Batling Infield (of Third Base Line), along with her mom, stopped by our booth for a lovely visit on Saturday.

And I owe a special shout of thanks to my most excellent knitting/blogging/writing friend Amy (of Knit Think), who stepped up and spent much of yesterday workin’ it alongside me and the bears.

You, my friend? Are AWESOME.

I was also priveleged to meet Amy’s delightful knitting/blogging friend Chris (of Stumbling Over Chaos), who graced us with her presence, and also with her camera. I have shamelessly stolen Chris's pictures from her site so you can see for yourselves the photographic evidence that these days I have been neglecting you, my small but inexplicably loyal posse of peeps, have not been entirely wasted:

Bear #28

This was the 28th bear I knitted for the Mother Bear Project.

I made it in February, and gave it, along with three others, to Amy, the Mother Bear founder, in early March.

In April, Amy took her second trip to Africa. She traveled to a number of countries, and visited many of the organizations that help her distribute handmade bears to children who have been impacted by the AIDS epidemic there. Of course, she also handed out lots of bears. The last time I saw Amy was the day before she left for Africa, and I asked her to please take lots of pictures while she was there.

Yesterday I received the following note in the mail:

“I just got back from Africa and it was pretty amazing. The children loved the bears. I have so many photos to show you! I will bring them to our next knitting group. Hope to see you there! Love, Amy”

Also enclosed was this photo:
My God, how I would love to gobble up those little feet.

A Great Harvest Indeed

Last Sunday, the exceptionally good people at Great Harvest Baking Company donated their facility and the ingredients for baking bread (and cookies and cinnamon rolls and muffins), and Mother Bear Project volunteers baked, worked the registers and cleaned up, and every dollar of the day’s sales went to the Mother Bear Project.

The DemiGoddesses and I had tried to volunteer to help with baking or selling, but after seeing us in action at the Pride Festival last summer, and again at the Just Giving fair in December, Amy, the Mother Bear Project founder, insisted that the girls and I once again staff the bear sponsorship table. So the three of us spent most of the day explaining to people over armloads of baked goods that the bears piled on the table were not for sale, they were for children in Africa who’ve been impacted by AIDS, and we were looking for sponsors to help us get the bears to the children. Sometimes we held the people’s bread for them as they carefully chose a bear and then wrote their name on the tag.

An article in the community paper and announcements at area church services helped bring an astonishing number of people into the bakery during the course of the day. One of Amy’s sisters donned a big furry bear costume, complete with a signature Mother Bear Project red heart and tag, to draw in even more traffic from outside. When she got tired of it, DemiGoddess the Elder eagerly volunteered to take over the bear suit for awhile. Demi the Younger and Amy’s own daughter, carrying signs, followed my dancing bear Demigoddess outside, and I couldn’t help but giggle watching the three of them boogie around and wave at passing cars from the curb in front of the bakery.

As usual, my involvement with this group has left me feeling all glowy and swoony over how kind and giving people can be. One of the day’s highlights was a woman who donated $10 to sponsor a bear at our table, and then left with her bread purchases, only to return a short while later. She came to me and said, “When I got in my car, I started to cry, and I knew I had to come back.” Then she handed me a check for $200. I nearly started crying, too.

According to an e-mail I received from Amy this morning, between the bread sales, the bear sponsoring, and the knitting kits and patterns we sold, the event brought in $8,500. I’d call that an overwhelming success.

The only fly in the ointment came after our day at the bakery was done, when the Demis and My Ho and I were at my parents’ house for our family’s traditional St. Patrick’s Day Irish dinner. The corned beef, cabbage and boiled potatoes were delicious, as always (thanks, mom), but when the basket of soda bread came around, the Demis cringed away from the sight of it.

“No bread,” they cried. “NO MORE BREAD!”

Crayola Bombs

"Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A beauty bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air - explode softly - and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth - boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn't go cheap, either - not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination."
~Robert Fulghum

Here are some of my Crayola Bombs, in the form of bears for the Mother Bear Project:





Do something nice for somebody this weekend. Do something kind for somebody you don't know, who doesn't know you. It doesn't have to be a big thing. Just do something.

"One little person, giving all of her time to peace, makes news. Many people, giving some of their time, can make history."
~Peace Pilgrim

Weekend Recap

The Demigoddesses and I spent most of Saturday at the PRIDE festival, working at a booth for the Mother Bear Project. I found this grass-roots non profit last January through some friends from work who learned that I was a knitter and got me hooked on making bears. A Minnetonka mom named Amy started the project two years ago, and I am convinced that she is an angel. Or, if not an angel, then certainly at least one of them has her back.

I think the original goal of the booth was to drum up general support for the project, get a few new knitters interested, and sell T-shirts. At some point, Amy decided to bring along some of the bears she has received without tags to identify who made them, and without money to pay for their shipping to Africa. The idea would be to try and get people at the festival to “sponsor” these orphan bears by making a $10 donation, choosing a bear, and filling out a tag for the bear with their name, or the name of someone they’d like to honor or remember.

The first of my day's many small miracles happened early, as I found a most amazing parking spot right on Loring Park. It was the kind of parking spot that prompted me to check once… twice… three times to make sure that it wasn’t somehow illegal, because it was just too damn good to be true.

The second miracle came shortly after that, when the attendants at the Big Brothers/Big Sisters booth next door to ours said that they wouldn’t be using two of their tables, and offered them to us to use. The one table we had was covered with brochures and pictures and information. Most of the bears Amy had brought along were in bags underneath. The two extra tables meant that we could bring the bears out and pile them where people would be able to see them.

Thinking it would be a leisurely day, I had brought my knitting. Once the booth was set up, I sat down and took out my needles, prepared to wait for festival-goers to approach us. For about a minute, I watched people walk past and thought, this will never do. I haven’t been hawking Old Navy credit cards for nine months for nothing. So I dropped my knitting, grabbed an armload of bears, and began working the crowd.

“Sponsor a bear for a child in Africa who’s been affected by AIDS! They’ve all been made by volunteer knitters, we’re just looking for people to help us get them to the kids! Sponsor a bear? Sponsor a bear?” It didn’t take long to find a taker. Then another.

Demigoddess the Elder followed my lead, grabbed her own armful of bears, took position at the other side of the booth, and worked it on that side. The two of us got people to stop, and once they were inside, Amy and the other volunteers gave them the details of the program and told stories about the children. Demigoddess the Younger kept count as the pile of sponsored bears grew and grew.

Old people, young people, couples, groups, single people, and families with children… some of them froze in their tracks when they heard the words “child,” and “Aids in Africa,” reaching for their money even before they had heard the rest of the pitch. Others would see the colorful pile of bears and pause, hear what we were doing and waver for a moment, and that’s when I’d slip a pen into their hands, point them toward the tables and say, “Choose any one you like.” Once they were inside the booth, there was no getting out again.

At one point, a man stopped and asked me, “But what are you doing for the children here? Do you have any programs for them?” He was clearly poised to get on my case, and I was not prepared to debate with him, so I called Amy over. She told him that children in emerging nations have no access to the social services that children in more developed countries have, and while she’d like to be able to help everyone, she had to choose the focus of this particular project very carefully. She spoke to him for several minutes before being called away by someone on the other side of the booth. The man turned back to me, apologized for giving me a hard time, and sponsored two bears. Miraculous.

At about 3:30 that afternoon, aching, sunburned, and losing the ability to speak, I realized that my shift was scheduled to have ended at 1:00 p.m. We had handed out hundreds of brochures and business cards, a number of knitting patterns, and had found sponsors for 103 bears (and counting). But I was so jazzed by what I had seen, so moved by how good and generous and kind and caring people can be, and so genuinely amazed that I had played a small part in all of it, that I really didn’t want to go.

I am a single mom who works two jobs. I have a house and dogs and pre-teens and a boyfriend, hobbies and obligations and an enormous extended family. I’m busy. And a lot of the time I’m damn tired. But in spite of the white noise that is my everyday life, somehow this experience found me, and I was willing to be a part of it. In a day that was full of small miracles, that was probably the biggest miracle of all.