Thursday, February 24, 2005
My Daughter Gets It!
My darling Diva child considers herself to be an indoor girl. She does not like to hike or camp or fish like her brother does but she gets it. She gets why we live where we do. This morning when she woke up she said she loved listening to the birds. In New York, she awoke to the sounds of traffic. Yesterday afternoon, when the plane landed in Seattle, my Seattle born baby experienced "IT"---the glorious feeling every Seattleite feels when you see Puget Sound from an airplane bringing you home. (Luckily and hopefully for her parents this means she is leaning toward UW or UBC for college instead of NYU.)
Kaley in Times Square
Kaley at Christo's Gates---Aren't they just so random?? I love it.
Hubby's well done attempt at taking an artsy photo! I love it.
My darling Diva child considers herself to be an indoor girl. She does not like to hike or camp or fish like her brother does but she gets it. She gets why we live where we do. This morning when she woke up she said she loved listening to the birds. In New York, she awoke to the sounds of traffic. Yesterday afternoon, when the plane landed in Seattle, my Seattle born baby experienced "IT"---the glorious feeling every Seattleite feels when you see Puget Sound from an airplane bringing you home. (Luckily and hopefully for her parents this means she is leaning toward UW or UBC for college instead of NYU.)
Kaley in Times Square
Kaley at Christo's Gates---Aren't they just so random?? I love it.
Hubby's well done attempt at taking an artsy photo! I love it.
// posted by Janet @ 9:55 AM
0 comments
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
File Photo Extraordinaire
Our incredible weather continues. At the moment, I am hearing the sound of lawn mowers. The mountains are lovely; the water is blue; the plum trees are blooming with the daffodils; I have been out pulling weeds; Apolo has been chasing the robins. I really do feel for California. I live in a neighborhood called "The Bluffs" and believe me, if we had torrential rains like they have had, half of the houses on my street would be sliding right down into Puget Sound. The West Coast is turned upside down according to my paper today. California is getting our rain amplified and this may pose problems for our water supply next August. I am sure they would be happy to share. Click on the link to see a picture or two.
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2002187595_weather23m.html
Until I get my camera back from my little girl who has experienced snow and horror of horrors, women wearing full length fur coats in New York City, I will post a fun file photo of me in 1972. I struggled with that hair. I even slept in lemonade cans to get rid of my curls.
Our incredible weather continues. At the moment, I am hearing the sound of lawn mowers. The mountains are lovely; the water is blue; the plum trees are blooming with the daffodils; I have been out pulling weeds; Apolo has been chasing the robins. I really do feel for California. I live in a neighborhood called "The Bluffs" and believe me, if we had torrential rains like they have had, half of the houses on my street would be sliding right down into Puget Sound. The West Coast is turned upside down according to my paper today. California is getting our rain amplified and this may pose problems for our water supply next August. I am sure they would be happy to share. Click on the link to see a picture or two.
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2002187595_weather23m.html
Until I get my camera back from my little girl who has experienced snow and horror of horrors, women wearing full length fur coats in New York City, I will post a fun file photo of me in 1972. I struggled with that hair. I even slept in lemonade cans to get rid of my curls.
// posted by Janet @ 9:43 AM
0 comments
Monday, February 21, 2005
Hiking--to Me a Matter of Women's Rights!
Since I do not have my camera to post current pictures of the Puget Sound area, I will resort to file photos. We have given up all of our rain and then some to California, evidently, because we have had blue skies, blue waters and "outed" mountains for days. Yesterday, Mount Pilchuck was clearly visible and everytime I see it, I annoy my family by saying, "Yep, I have hiked to the top of Pilchuck, right there, see it?"
Little Janet was a chubby child. I remember my Dad was constantly trying to get me outside. You see, my Dad was athletic. He was a superb swimmer and an even better basketball player. He played college basketball until he went away to war. Basketball continued to be a part of his life until a few months before he died--on Thursday nights at the Junior High gym. When I was really little, he would take my brother and me to watch; I also have early memories of watching him play on a softball team. My Dad tried so hard with me, bless his heart. He tried to teach me to throw a ball (my son still laughs when I throw a stick for Apolo); he had me out in the driveway playing "horse" under our basketball hoop; and he even attempted to teach my best friend and me how to play a little football out on our front lawn until I started to cry.
Fishing and camping trips usually required a little hiking. When we would go to my Dad's favorite fishing spot at Beaver Creek on the Missouri River, we'd have to walk through private ranch land. I was slow. My Dad would walk behind me and poke me with his fishing pole and sometimes he would throw cow pies to make me move a little faster--always done with affection and for the most part I'd be giggling unless it was really early in the morning. I never did become athletic but Dad was successful with me in two ways: 1) I learned that girls could and should do sports and 2) I learned to love to hike in the outdoors.
When I was in high school (1968-1971), there were no sports programs for girls except for cheerleading or the drill team. As a part of the student council in the midst of the women's rights movement, my friends and I pushed for more equality and managed to come up with two plans. First of all, we sponsored a powder puff football game and it was not flag but tackle. One of my best friends who I forced to participate (who reads this blog sometimes) suffered a broken nose. I have always felt bad about that but she is still as gorgeous today as she was then. Second, for the first time ever, our high school started a girl's track team.
I wasn't athletic and I had no idea what I would do on a track team but my friends and I joined up. How could we not?? It was a matter of equality with the boys and I loved the red sweat suits. My brother received the athletic genes in our family and was a track star. He could run fast and jump high and took second at State for the long jump. So, I decided my event was the long jump but I was embarrassingly terrible. Also, I had done quite a bit of hiking by that point and I had some stamina so my other event was the mile. For the first time in my life, I slimmed down. In those days, very few girls would try to run any distance so I had practically no competition. Nevertheless, I usually came in last place and I'd still get a ribbon which looked good on my high school resume.
After high school, I never again participated in organized sports. Hiking is another matter. Walking through ranchland and jumping over irrigation ditches morphed into week long backpacking trips in the Absaroka Mountains, the highest mountain range in Montana. Having children interfered significantly with my hiking especially since my girl child hates it. I have not had the patience to be as persistent with her as my Dad was with me. Perhaps, I should try throwing cow patties at her! My husband's knees are shot but my son is a willing partner so the last few years I have been able to do some hiking. And I live in a place where the wilderness is 45 minutes from my front door.
So these are file photos from our climb up Mount Pilchuck--elevation 5324--two years ago. I had turned 50 that year and I was so proud of myself. My thighs were burning and I felt weak but accomplished UNTIL we met a group of old hikers who must have been in their 80's acting like they could have jogged to the top. Burst my bubble!!
On the Way Up
View from the top
Me in the Lookout at the top (Puget Sound in the distance behind me)
Cascade Mountains from top of Pilchuck
Since I do not have my camera to post current pictures of the Puget Sound area, I will resort to file photos. We have given up all of our rain and then some to California, evidently, because we have had blue skies, blue waters and "outed" mountains for days. Yesterday, Mount Pilchuck was clearly visible and everytime I see it, I annoy my family by saying, "Yep, I have hiked to the top of Pilchuck, right there, see it?"
Little Janet was a chubby child. I remember my Dad was constantly trying to get me outside. You see, my Dad was athletic. He was a superb swimmer and an even better basketball player. He played college basketball until he went away to war. Basketball continued to be a part of his life until a few months before he died--on Thursday nights at the Junior High gym. When I was really little, he would take my brother and me to watch; I also have early memories of watching him play on a softball team. My Dad tried so hard with me, bless his heart. He tried to teach me to throw a ball (my son still laughs when I throw a stick for Apolo); he had me out in the driveway playing "horse" under our basketball hoop; and he even attempted to teach my best friend and me how to play a little football out on our front lawn until I started to cry.
Fishing and camping trips usually required a little hiking. When we would go to my Dad's favorite fishing spot at Beaver Creek on the Missouri River, we'd have to walk through private ranch land. I was slow. My Dad would walk behind me and poke me with his fishing pole and sometimes he would throw cow pies to make me move a little faster--always done with affection and for the most part I'd be giggling unless it was really early in the morning. I never did become athletic but Dad was successful with me in two ways: 1) I learned that girls could and should do sports and 2) I learned to love to hike in the outdoors.
When I was in high school (1968-1971), there were no sports programs for girls except for cheerleading or the drill team. As a part of the student council in the midst of the women's rights movement, my friends and I pushed for more equality and managed to come up with two plans. First of all, we sponsored a powder puff football game and it was not flag but tackle. One of my best friends who I forced to participate (who reads this blog sometimes) suffered a broken nose. I have always felt bad about that but she is still as gorgeous today as she was then. Second, for the first time ever, our high school started a girl's track team.
I wasn't athletic and I had no idea what I would do on a track team but my friends and I joined up. How could we not?? It was a matter of equality with the boys and I loved the red sweat suits. My brother received the athletic genes in our family and was a track star. He could run fast and jump high and took second at State for the long jump. So, I decided my event was the long jump but I was embarrassingly terrible. Also, I had done quite a bit of hiking by that point and I had some stamina so my other event was the mile. For the first time in my life, I slimmed down. In those days, very few girls would try to run any distance so I had practically no competition. Nevertheless, I usually came in last place and I'd still get a ribbon which looked good on my high school resume.
After high school, I never again participated in organized sports. Hiking is another matter. Walking through ranchland and jumping over irrigation ditches morphed into week long backpacking trips in the Absaroka Mountains, the highest mountain range in Montana. Having children interfered significantly with my hiking especially since my girl child hates it. I have not had the patience to be as persistent with her as my Dad was with me. Perhaps, I should try throwing cow patties at her! My husband's knees are shot but my son is a willing partner so the last few years I have been able to do some hiking. And I live in a place where the wilderness is 45 minutes from my front door.
So these are file photos from our climb up Mount Pilchuck--elevation 5324--two years ago. I had turned 50 that year and I was so proud of myself. My thighs were burning and I felt weak but accomplished UNTIL we met a group of old hikers who must have been in their 80's acting like they could have jogged to the top. Burst my bubble!!
On the Way Up
View from the top
Me in the Lookout at the top (Puget Sound in the distance behind me)
Cascade Mountains from top of Pilchuck
// posted by Janet @ 8:41 AM
0 comments
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Kaley is Off to New York with the Digital
My husband took our daughter to New York so that she can check out NYU. Actually, I think the main reason she wanted to go was so she could take in a Broadway Show or two. I told her to take the digital camera because I want pictures of Christo's gates in Central Park. Love his work or hate it, one has to admit that it is intriguing.
When we were in school in Kansas City, our favorite place to take Monty, our Golden Retriever was Loose Park. I remember that on one side, they had planted some Ponderosa-like pines. We used to walk among them and smell because it smelled like home. We were so homesick for Montana! Christo, for some odd reason, decided to wrap the sidewalks in Loose Park with bright yellow fabric. Now we were just kids from Montana and it was the weirdest thing I had ever seen in my life. We walked carefully on the fabric throughout the park with our dog and I will never forget it as long as I live--it was just so strange and beautiful.
Needless to say, after our sidewalk experience, I have paid attention to everything else Christo has done since. And it is all still weird but I am excited that Kaley will come home with actual photos of Central Park and I will post them here. Stay tuned.
Low and behold, with the magic of the internet and Google, I found information about Kansas City. It was 1978. The pictures in the link are black and white--man, I guess I am that old.
http://www.kcmo.org/timeline.nsf/web/19780090?opendocument
My husband took our daughter to New York so that she can check out NYU. Actually, I think the main reason she wanted to go was so she could take in a Broadway Show or two. I told her to take the digital camera because I want pictures of Christo's gates in Central Park. Love his work or hate it, one has to admit that it is intriguing.
When we were in school in Kansas City, our favorite place to take Monty, our Golden Retriever was Loose Park. I remember that on one side, they had planted some Ponderosa-like pines. We used to walk among them and smell because it smelled like home. We were so homesick for Montana! Christo, for some odd reason, decided to wrap the sidewalks in Loose Park with bright yellow fabric. Now we were just kids from Montana and it was the weirdest thing I had ever seen in my life. We walked carefully on the fabric throughout the park with our dog and I will never forget it as long as I live--it was just so strange and beautiful.
Needless to say, after our sidewalk experience, I have paid attention to everything else Christo has done since. And it is all still weird but I am excited that Kaley will come home with actual photos of Central Park and I will post them here. Stay tuned.
Low and behold, with the magic of the internet and Google, I found information about Kansas City. It was 1978. The pictures in the link are black and white--man, I guess I am that old.
http://www.kcmo.org/timeline.nsf/web/19780090?opendocument
// posted by Janet @ 2:37 PM
0 comments
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Only in Seattle
A couple of things have come to my attention that I find fascinating so I think I will use my "Only in Seattle" format to talk about them.
1. I have mentioned previously on this blog that Seattleites relish discussing and analyzing themselves. So Only in Seattle was an entire story in the Sunday magazine section devoted to analysis of how icy, aloof, and inward we are. I enjoyed every word of it because it is so true and since I consider myself a Seattleite, I love reading about us. There are so many great quotes in this article that I do not know where to begin. I have said many many times that we are extremely polite here--we do not honk our horns; we wave people into traffic and expect a thank you wave; we are terribly polite in elevators--but beyond these situations, we are not overtly friendly. I have described how in Nashville, friendly touchy feely store clerks completely overwhelmed me to the point I had to take a few steps backwards. But, but, I would say, if a Seattleite is friendly after you get to know such a creature, the friendliness is completely sincere--it just takes a while to get to know us. We may even respond with a hug. And now for some quotes from this story entitled, "Seattle N (ICE)! Our Social Dis Ease" by Julia Sommerfeld: http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/pacificnw/2005/0213/cover.html
a. "Seattle is 'a city of the mind . . . a city of geeks. People here . . . they totally blow you off. And these are good friends, right? They just don’t call you. It’s unbelievable.' "
b. "Ouch.
You've just experienced the infamous Seattle Freeze. It's the flip side of Seattle Nice. Welcome to Seattle . . . Now please go away.
Seattle's long been described in contradictory terms. The weather: Is it mild or dreary or mildly dreary? The politics: Progressive yet torpid. Progressing toward torpor? The attitude: Tolerant — of all like-minded people.
But the dichotomy most fundamental to our collective civic character is this: Polite but distant. Have a nice day. Somewhere else.
We're the ideal seatmate on an airplane. [ I LOVE this--so true] We slide in, exchange a smile and a succinct pleasantry, then leave you be for the rest of the flight. Alaska Airlines should capitalize on this with ads that promise: 'Uninterrupted service from Seattle — and we mean it.' "
c. "One theory points to the cloistering effect of cloudy skies. Another has it that the Seattle Nice/Ice phenomenon is rooted in a historic intersection of Nordic-Asian reserve. It may be the influence of weekend mountain men or the influx of socially disinclined tech workers. It could be a trapping of mid-sized citydom — small enough to manage on your own but too big to care about your neighbors.
Or perhaps it's all of the above: some confluence of factors that has created a perfect storm of antisociality."
d. "....when Seattleites say, 'Let's do something sometime,' what they really mean is: 'Let's never do anything ever.' "
e. "Here in Seattle we do a lot of things alone. We live alone: Two out of five households have a single occupant — one of the highest rates in the nation. More than three-quarters of people participate in an individual sport but only 13 percent play on a team. We ride bikes alone; go on walks alone; troll bookstores alone, then go home and read alone. "
f. "Even Gabriel Tevrizian is more or less a Seattleite now. Since arriving from Argentina, he's turned down the volume on his laugh, no longer reaches out to hug friends and has even stopped wearing his favorite loud red pants. Those first lonely years in the Northwest even gave him a bit of a taste for solitude. Last time he went back to Buenos Aires, he found himself overwhelmed by his own exuberant culture. 'I didn't connect that well anymore. I couldn't get any time alone. People were in my face all day long,' he says. "
So there you have it folks, we'll hold the elevator for you and help you with your suitcase with a smile but please don't invite us to get a latte because then we will have to have an actual uncomfortable conversation.
2. Only in Seattle do we believe we live in paradise. A great picture of Mount Rainier, our beloved mountain in the paper today: http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/home/ It was a little frosty again today and I had a little trouble with "death hill" again. Here is the view from the top of the hill taken yesterday--yea, right, "Watch for Ice" and notice the little truck on the incline which really means, "You may very likely lose complete control of your vehicle heading down this road and if you do, you will kerplunk off of a 50 foot cliff into the cold cold waters of Puget Sound!"
3. And finally, my favorite Seattle Times columnist, Ron Judd, who writes eloquently about a variety of topics ranging from digging rocks out of his backyard to covering Olympic athletes like Apolo Ohno wrote about his dog today. Only in Seattle do my favorite writers seem to have a dog that they love like a child. Maybe it is all of the time alone Seattleites spend that causes us to bond with our dogs. We do not have to engage in an uncomfortable conversation with our canine friends. http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/traveloutdoors/2002181982_nwwtrailmix17.html
I was sobbing into my French pressed coffee this morning as I read this. And a quote from Ron Judd:
"At the risk of spoiling this fine melodrama, it should be disclosed that Mabel is a dog — as splendid an example of the progeny of a yellow lab and golden retriever as you are ever likely to find. She's just a long, furry, happy animal, but over three years of joint cohabitation, mentoring, frustration and tennis-ball tossing, she has come to be my most loyal companion. "
Well, bye, I am off to walk my Apolo, alone. But maybe I'll shoot off an e-mail to Ron Judd, first!
A couple of things have come to my attention that I find fascinating so I think I will use my "Only in Seattle" format to talk about them.
1. I have mentioned previously on this blog that Seattleites relish discussing and analyzing themselves. So Only in Seattle was an entire story in the Sunday magazine section devoted to analysis of how icy, aloof, and inward we are. I enjoyed every word of it because it is so true and since I consider myself a Seattleite, I love reading about us. There are so many great quotes in this article that I do not know where to begin. I have said many many times that we are extremely polite here--we do not honk our horns; we wave people into traffic and expect a thank you wave; we are terribly polite in elevators--but beyond these situations, we are not overtly friendly. I have described how in Nashville, friendly touchy feely store clerks completely overwhelmed me to the point I had to take a few steps backwards. But, but, I would say, if a Seattleite is friendly after you get to know such a creature, the friendliness is completely sincere--it just takes a while to get to know us. We may even respond with a hug. And now for some quotes from this story entitled, "Seattle N (ICE)! Our Social Dis Ease" by Julia Sommerfeld: http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/pacificnw/2005/0213/cover.html
a. "Seattle is 'a city of the mind . . . a city of geeks. People here . . . they totally blow you off. And these are good friends, right? They just don’t call you. It’s unbelievable.' "
b. "Ouch.
You've just experienced the infamous Seattle Freeze. It's the flip side of Seattle Nice. Welcome to Seattle . . . Now please go away.
Seattle's long been described in contradictory terms. The weather: Is it mild or dreary or mildly dreary? The politics: Progressive yet torpid. Progressing toward torpor? The attitude: Tolerant — of all like-minded people.
But the dichotomy most fundamental to our collective civic character is this: Polite but distant. Have a nice day. Somewhere else.
We're the ideal seatmate on an airplane. [ I LOVE this--so true] We slide in, exchange a smile and a succinct pleasantry, then leave you be for the rest of the flight. Alaska Airlines should capitalize on this with ads that promise: 'Uninterrupted service from Seattle — and we mean it.' "
c. "One theory points to the cloistering effect of cloudy skies. Another has it that the Seattle Nice/Ice phenomenon is rooted in a historic intersection of Nordic-Asian reserve. It may be the influence of weekend mountain men or the influx of socially disinclined tech workers. It could be a trapping of mid-sized citydom — small enough to manage on your own but too big to care about your neighbors.
Or perhaps it's all of the above: some confluence of factors that has created a perfect storm of antisociality."
d. "....when Seattleites say, 'Let's do something sometime,' what they really mean is: 'Let's never do anything ever.' "
e. "Here in Seattle we do a lot of things alone. We live alone: Two out of five households have a single occupant — one of the highest rates in the nation. More than three-quarters of people participate in an individual sport but only 13 percent play on a team. We ride bikes alone; go on walks alone; troll bookstores alone, then go home and read alone. "
f. "Even Gabriel Tevrizian is more or less a Seattleite now. Since arriving from Argentina, he's turned down the volume on his laugh, no longer reaches out to hug friends and has even stopped wearing his favorite loud red pants. Those first lonely years in the Northwest even gave him a bit of a taste for solitude. Last time he went back to Buenos Aires, he found himself overwhelmed by his own exuberant culture. 'I didn't connect that well anymore. I couldn't get any time alone. People were in my face all day long,' he says. "
So there you have it folks, we'll hold the elevator for you and help you with your suitcase with a smile but please don't invite us to get a latte because then we will have to have an actual uncomfortable conversation.
2. Only in Seattle do we believe we live in paradise. A great picture of Mount Rainier, our beloved mountain in the paper today: http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/home/ It was a little frosty again today and I had a little trouble with "death hill" again. Here is the view from the top of the hill taken yesterday--yea, right, "Watch for Ice" and notice the little truck on the incline which really means, "You may very likely lose complete control of your vehicle heading down this road and if you do, you will kerplunk off of a 50 foot cliff into the cold cold waters of Puget Sound!"
3. And finally, my favorite Seattle Times columnist, Ron Judd, who writes eloquently about a variety of topics ranging from digging rocks out of his backyard to covering Olympic athletes like Apolo Ohno wrote about his dog today. Only in Seattle do my favorite writers seem to have a dog that they love like a child. Maybe it is all of the time alone Seattleites spend that causes us to bond with our dogs. We do not have to engage in an uncomfortable conversation with our canine friends. http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/traveloutdoors/2002181982_nwwtrailmix17.html
I was sobbing into my French pressed coffee this morning as I read this. And a quote from Ron Judd:
"At the risk of spoiling this fine melodrama, it should be disclosed that Mabel is a dog — as splendid an example of the progeny of a yellow lab and golden retriever as you are ever likely to find. She's just a long, furry, happy animal, but over three years of joint cohabitation, mentoring, frustration and tennis-ball tossing, she has come to be my most loyal companion. "
Well, bye, I am off to walk my Apolo, alone. But maybe I'll shoot off an e-mail to Ron Judd, first!
// posted by Janet @ 9:09 AM
0 comments
Monday, February 14, 2005
How Do You Thank a Teacher?
In my opinion, there are three groups of people who I consider to be saints in our society:
1. Foster parents who take in special needs children
2. Nursing home attendants, particularly those who work with Alzheimer's patients
3. Teachers
These are the people who work for practically nothing and yet they do more to change peoples' lives and to care for the vulnerable than anybody. Nothing bothers me more than to see a football coach at the University get paid more than a million dollars a year and yet elementary school teachers barely make enough money to survive. Teachers have the hearts and minds of our children in their care; a good teacher has a profound effect on generations of kids--changing lives of entire families. Interestingly, in my post below, "My Daughter is a Diva!", I mentioned the positive influence an orchestra teacher had on my son, Lucas. Her name is Lois Beckman and we are not the only family who has benefited from her gifts.
Today, in the Everett Herald , Lois Beckman was featured and the article brought tears to my eyes because she sent my family in a direction I never would have dreamed. How do I thank a person like her for giving my son the gift of music? How do I thank her for helping my son to find a passion in life? How do I thank her for the friends my son has made because he plays the viola? How do I thank her for giving my son something to enjoy for his entire life? How do I thank her for all of the moments of pleasure I have had listening to my son's high school quartet; attending his Youth Symphony performances; and seeing him on the stage at Benaroya Hall? How do I thank her for that music scholarship?
Lois Beckman was the one who was out recruiting children for orchestra. In a little presentation 10 years ago, when Lucas was in the fourth grade, he heard the viola and he wanted to learn to play it because he enjoyed the sound it made--deeper and richer than a violin. He liked the cello, too, but he couldn't figure out how he would haul one around. After his first year with Ms. Beckman, Lucas won an Outstanding Orchestra Student award and he was hooked. The next year, the cool kids took up band instruments but little Lucas stuck with the instrument that made cool sounds and with a teacher he loved. Of course, we followed up with great private teachers, Joyce Bovey and eventually, Aviva Leonard. Midge Livingston was the wonderful middle school orchestra teacher. Fabulous and supportive Brian Steves pushed Lucas along for four years of high school. I have been so fortunate as a mother to have had these terrific people shaping my son into the wonderful young man he has become.
Lucas complains to me now that he is not a prodigy nor does he have a great talent. My response is, "so what?" He is not a music major because he has a number of other passions out of which he will make a career. But he loves to play in the orchestra where viola players are always in demand. What a gift to be able to be a part of something so incredible. At Christmas time, the communtity symphony orchestra in Missoula played back up to Michael Andrew. He is not wildly famous but it was exciting to Lucas nevertheless. Next month, with Lucas as third chair, the orchestra will play back up to Doc Severenson of Johnny Carson fame. When Lucas called to tell me this, he explained that some "trumpet guy named 'Doc' or something" was coming to Missoula. He had no idea who he was and was shocked beyond belief when I knew who he was talking about. I may just have to get myself to Missoula to watch.
Lois Beckman is receiving a state Golden Apple award for being one of our state's top educators. http://www.heraldnet.com/stories/05/02/14/100loc_teacher001.cfm How lucky and blessed I am that she was entirely responsible for Lucas's love of the viola. How lucky we are in this state to have Lois Beckman!
"She talks about molding the whole child, not just a statistically successful one.
'The arts are especially important because they help the entire child to develop, not just cognitively but emotionally as well, and kinetically, auditorily, and visually. And it teaches them how to get along with other children in group situations,' she said.
'All of those skills apply to all other subjects and help them become better students,' she said."
AMEN and THANK YOU, Ms. Beckman.
Lucas's quartet with Mitch, Beth and Cindy performing at UW School of Public Health Graduation
Quartet performing at King FM Radio
In my opinion, there are three groups of people who I consider to be saints in our society:
1. Foster parents who take in special needs children
2. Nursing home attendants, particularly those who work with Alzheimer's patients
3. Teachers
These are the people who work for practically nothing and yet they do more to change peoples' lives and to care for the vulnerable than anybody. Nothing bothers me more than to see a football coach at the University get paid more than a million dollars a year and yet elementary school teachers barely make enough money to survive. Teachers have the hearts and minds of our children in their care; a good teacher has a profound effect on generations of kids--changing lives of entire families. Interestingly, in my post below, "My Daughter is a Diva!", I mentioned the positive influence an orchestra teacher had on my son, Lucas. Her name is Lois Beckman and we are not the only family who has benefited from her gifts.
Today, in the Everett Herald , Lois Beckman was featured and the article brought tears to my eyes because she sent my family in a direction I never would have dreamed. How do I thank a person like her for giving my son the gift of music? How do I thank her for helping my son to find a passion in life? How do I thank her for the friends my son has made because he plays the viola? How do I thank her for giving my son something to enjoy for his entire life? How do I thank her for all of the moments of pleasure I have had listening to my son's high school quartet; attending his Youth Symphony performances; and seeing him on the stage at Benaroya Hall? How do I thank her for that music scholarship?
Lois Beckman was the one who was out recruiting children for orchestra. In a little presentation 10 years ago, when Lucas was in the fourth grade, he heard the viola and he wanted to learn to play it because he enjoyed the sound it made--deeper and richer than a violin. He liked the cello, too, but he couldn't figure out how he would haul one around. After his first year with Ms. Beckman, Lucas won an Outstanding Orchestra Student award and he was hooked. The next year, the cool kids took up band instruments but little Lucas stuck with the instrument that made cool sounds and with a teacher he loved. Of course, we followed up with great private teachers, Joyce Bovey and eventually, Aviva Leonard. Midge Livingston was the wonderful middle school orchestra teacher. Fabulous and supportive Brian Steves pushed Lucas along for four years of high school. I have been so fortunate as a mother to have had these terrific people shaping my son into the wonderful young man he has become.
Lucas complains to me now that he is not a prodigy nor does he have a great talent. My response is, "so what?" He is not a music major because he has a number of other passions out of which he will make a career. But he loves to play in the orchestra where viola players are always in demand. What a gift to be able to be a part of something so incredible. At Christmas time, the communtity symphony orchestra in Missoula played back up to Michael Andrew. He is not wildly famous but it was exciting to Lucas nevertheless. Next month, with Lucas as third chair, the orchestra will play back up to Doc Severenson of Johnny Carson fame. When Lucas called to tell me this, he explained that some "trumpet guy named 'Doc' or something" was coming to Missoula. He had no idea who he was and was shocked beyond belief when I knew who he was talking about. I may just have to get myself to Missoula to watch.
Lois Beckman is receiving a state Golden Apple award for being one of our state's top educators. http://www.heraldnet.com/stories/05/02/14/100loc_teacher001.cfm How lucky and blessed I am that she was entirely responsible for Lucas's love of the viola. How lucky we are in this state to have Lois Beckman!
"She talks about molding the whole child, not just a statistically successful one.
'The arts are especially important because they help the entire child to develop, not just cognitively but emotionally as well, and kinetically, auditorily, and visually. And it teaches them how to get along with other children in group situations,' she said.
'All of those skills apply to all other subjects and help them become better students,' she said."
AMEN and THANK YOU, Ms. Beckman.
Lucas's quartet with Mitch, Beth and Cindy performing at UW School of Public Health Graduation
Quartet performing at King FM Radio
// posted by Janet @ 7:52 AM
1 comments
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Was that Pennsylvania Ground Hog Correct??
Winter is still here so maybe that ground hog thing has some validity after all. Our thermometer this morning said 29.7 degrees and because of the moisture in the air, everything is covered with white frost. I remember one Christmas the frost was so thick that Lucas was actually able to go sledding on it in our front yard.
What is frightening to me--a person mortally afraid of slipperiness on roads--is that I had to take my daughter to school. The school is at about 500 feet above sea level and our house is at about 50 feet so I have to drive up an extremely steep three block hill. My brand new tires spun today and I fishtailed going up. Yikes! Black ice!! The problem is I have to drive back down unless I go to Starbucks in my sweats which are actually just covering up my pajamas and wait until 29.7 turns into 32.7. Fortunately, there is an alternate route which is slightly less steep but it has more twists and turns. Luckily, this way is more protected from the water and I had no problem driving home thus preventing a denial of service at Starbuck's for freakishness.
I have about ten minutes here to see if the school bus for the elementary school kids comes down that hill. If it does not drive past my house then the driver wisely chose the alternate route. Or on the other hand, the driver might decide to slide down the hill, shoot off the bluffs, and a giant yellow school bus will be bobbing in Puget Sound just off of Chennault Beach.
Frosty Day
photo taken at 7:30 AM
Winter is still here so maybe that ground hog thing has some validity after all. Our thermometer this morning said 29.7 degrees and because of the moisture in the air, everything is covered with white frost. I remember one Christmas the frost was so thick that Lucas was actually able to go sledding on it in our front yard.
What is frightening to me--a person mortally afraid of slipperiness on roads--is that I had to take my daughter to school. The school is at about 500 feet above sea level and our house is at about 50 feet so I have to drive up an extremely steep three block hill. My brand new tires spun today and I fishtailed going up. Yikes! Black ice!! The problem is I have to drive back down unless I go to Starbucks in my sweats which are actually just covering up my pajamas and wait until 29.7 turns into 32.7. Fortunately, there is an alternate route which is slightly less steep but it has more twists and turns. Luckily, this way is more protected from the water and I had no problem driving home thus preventing a denial of service at Starbuck's for freakishness.
I have about ten minutes here to see if the school bus for the elementary school kids comes down that hill. If it does not drive past my house then the driver wisely chose the alternate route. Or on the other hand, the driver might decide to slide down the hill, shoot off the bluffs, and a giant yellow school bus will be bobbing in Puget Sound just off of Chennault Beach.
Frosty Day
photo taken at 7:30 AM
// posted by Janet @ 7:36 AM
0 comments
Monday, February 07, 2005
My Daughter is a Diva!!
"Oh, I feel like a Diva today," proclaimed Kaley on Saturday morning as we are off to the Solo-Ensemble competition, "I'm going to do well so I hope I have a judge who knows what she is doing." She strutted with a confident little wiggle in her slinky blue dress to the van.
Just the morning before when I took Kaley to school at 7 A.M., she was loudly complaining, "These jeans look horrible on me. And why is it you NEVER wash my clothes; I never have anything decent to wear because of you. And look at my hair--these braids make my big head look positively prehistoric--like I have a growth or something out of the back of my head. Oh my GAWD, when people at school see me, they are going to scream and run the other way."
In my opinion, Kaley has a beautifully shaped head and when she was little, after I washed her hair and combed it, I would always admire its lovely shape. Now at 16 when she wears braids, the lovely shape is accentuated. I must admit, her head gave me problems when she was born two weeks early. We had missed the refresher class on pushing, and she kind of got stuck at that point and did not want to come out. I had a male doctor, a husband, and a young nurse all screaming at me to push. I took one look at all of them and realized I was the only person in that delivery room who had had a baby before so I wasn't very nice to any of them at that moment. Nevertheless, I did my job, pushed her into the world without so much as a tylenol. Little did I realize this was the first of many tangles with this beautiful girl.
God has given me a great challenge as well as an incredible gift being Kaley's Mom. Her soul is defined by music. She sees and hears the world through nothing but music. My husband and I have no musical abilities whatsoever. I quit piano lessons after four years because I never graduated out of Book 1. Dave was in a rock band and tried singing and playing the guitar but the other members decided to put him in charge of the light show instead. And yet for some strange but wonderful reason, God gave each of my children the gift of music.
Lucas declared to me in the fourth grade that he wanted to play the viola. I had no idea what a viola was but we managed to find one to rent and when the school orchestra teacher, Ms. Beckman, suggested he had some ability, we found a private teacher. My only regret is that I did not recognize his love of music earlier; a musical parent may have noticed through the ninja turtle fights that putting a violin in his hands would have been a good idea. He is not a music major but he does have a music scholarship, plays in his college orchestra, plays in the community symphony and recently substituted for the regular viola player with the UM stringed quartet. And he just loves it.
With Kaley I did notice an aptitude when I parked her stroller in front of the Disney music video in a Disney store in Seattle. As a baby she was bouncing mesmerized in perfect time to the music; my Mom even noticed. When she turned three, I started her in Kindermusik classes where she learned to read music before she could read words. Her Kindermusik teacher gave her piano lessons beginning at age 6 and Kaley bugged me the whole time to take voice lessons and we started those at age 11. Sometimes, I have parents ask me what kind of dictator-like parent bahavior I have used to make my kids practice their music. All I am able to respond is that my kids have been self motivated out of their enjoyment and their passion. In fact, I probably could have pushed them more but since music is not my area, I have completely delegated this responsibility to their music teachers and to them. I am completely clueless.
Kaley has continued with her piano lessons and last year she accompanied several students in the Solo Ensemble competition. She also entered as a vocal soloist. Unfortunately, one of the girls she accompanied, beat her. Kaley had worked with this girl, given her tips, and with her piano work according to Kaley, masterfully covered for the girl's mistakes. And also, according to Kaley, the "stupid" judge did not realize it.
So this year, Kaley would not agree to accompany anyone even though earlier this fall she mastered Stephen Sondheim's musical "Assassins" and played the entire musical for a friend's senior project. It was a monumental task and she pulled it off beautifully.
On Saturday afternoon, I am standing outside the Performing Arts Center at my daughter's high school watching all of the kids excitedly waiting for the posting of the list of winners of the day's competition. The Solo Ensemble Competition is a regional event with several school districts involved and the winners go to the State competition. I had heard that some of the orchestra entries from our school were fabulous. Even so, Mr. Steves, the orchestra teacher--who is not one of Kaley's teachers but he likes her a lot because he liked Lucas a lot and we like him a whole lot--approached me. I said, "Well, there were three scores of 1 (the highest score) in the mezzo-soprano category and Kaley was one of them!"
Mr. Steves fidgeted around and responded, "Kaley did very well this morning; I mean Kaley did really well this morning."
"She sounded great to me but I am her Mom. I am supposed to think that so what do I know?" Dave and I noticed the judge seemed to want to eat Kaley as she approached her with praise but then the girl before Kaley....well, I don't want to be unkind. And we know nothing about music anyway.
"Oh, I am not supposed to tell anyone this before I tell the choir teacher," Mr. Steves exploded hastily, "but Kaley won her category--she did very well!" He then rushed off quickly to support his fabulous students. Wow! She is going to State!! Wow! And she beat the girl who beat her last year. Wow! And it was a different judge this year.
I watched my daughter with the gorgeous head over by the door to the PAC-- my frustrating passionate, maddening, difficult, beautiful Diva begin to jump up and down as a piece of paper was taped to the glass. She ran over to me, "MOM......!"
"I know...I already know!"
"Oh, I feel like a Diva today," proclaimed Kaley on Saturday morning as we are off to the Solo-Ensemble competition, "I'm going to do well so I hope I have a judge who knows what she is doing." She strutted with a confident little wiggle in her slinky blue dress to the van.
Just the morning before when I took Kaley to school at 7 A.M., she was loudly complaining, "These jeans look horrible on me. And why is it you NEVER wash my clothes; I never have anything decent to wear because of you. And look at my hair--these braids make my big head look positively prehistoric--like I have a growth or something out of the back of my head. Oh my GAWD, when people at school see me, they are going to scream and run the other way."
In my opinion, Kaley has a beautifully shaped head and when she was little, after I washed her hair and combed it, I would always admire its lovely shape. Now at 16 when she wears braids, the lovely shape is accentuated. I must admit, her head gave me problems when she was born two weeks early. We had missed the refresher class on pushing, and she kind of got stuck at that point and did not want to come out. I had a male doctor, a husband, and a young nurse all screaming at me to push. I took one look at all of them and realized I was the only person in that delivery room who had had a baby before so I wasn't very nice to any of them at that moment. Nevertheless, I did my job, pushed her into the world without so much as a tylenol. Little did I realize this was the first of many tangles with this beautiful girl.
God has given me a great challenge as well as an incredible gift being Kaley's Mom. Her soul is defined by music. She sees and hears the world through nothing but music. My husband and I have no musical abilities whatsoever. I quit piano lessons after four years because I never graduated out of Book 1. Dave was in a rock band and tried singing and playing the guitar but the other members decided to put him in charge of the light show instead. And yet for some strange but wonderful reason, God gave each of my children the gift of music.
Lucas declared to me in the fourth grade that he wanted to play the viola. I had no idea what a viola was but we managed to find one to rent and when the school orchestra teacher, Ms. Beckman, suggested he had some ability, we found a private teacher. My only regret is that I did not recognize his love of music earlier; a musical parent may have noticed through the ninja turtle fights that putting a violin in his hands would have been a good idea. He is not a music major but he does have a music scholarship, plays in his college orchestra, plays in the community symphony and recently substituted for the regular viola player with the UM stringed quartet. And he just loves it.
With Kaley I did notice an aptitude when I parked her stroller in front of the Disney music video in a Disney store in Seattle. As a baby she was bouncing mesmerized in perfect time to the music; my Mom even noticed. When she turned three, I started her in Kindermusik classes where she learned to read music before she could read words. Her Kindermusik teacher gave her piano lessons beginning at age 6 and Kaley bugged me the whole time to take voice lessons and we started those at age 11. Sometimes, I have parents ask me what kind of dictator-like parent bahavior I have used to make my kids practice their music. All I am able to respond is that my kids have been self motivated out of their enjoyment and their passion. In fact, I probably could have pushed them more but since music is not my area, I have completely delegated this responsibility to their music teachers and to them. I am completely clueless.
Kaley has continued with her piano lessons and last year she accompanied several students in the Solo Ensemble competition. She also entered as a vocal soloist. Unfortunately, one of the girls she accompanied, beat her. Kaley had worked with this girl, given her tips, and with her piano work according to Kaley, masterfully covered for the girl's mistakes. And also, according to Kaley, the "stupid" judge did not realize it.
So this year, Kaley would not agree to accompany anyone even though earlier this fall she mastered Stephen Sondheim's musical "Assassins" and played the entire musical for a friend's senior project. It was a monumental task and she pulled it off beautifully.
On Saturday afternoon, I am standing outside the Performing Arts Center at my daughter's high school watching all of the kids excitedly waiting for the posting of the list of winners of the day's competition. The Solo Ensemble Competition is a regional event with several school districts involved and the winners go to the State competition. I had heard that some of the orchestra entries from our school were fabulous. Even so, Mr. Steves, the orchestra teacher--who is not one of Kaley's teachers but he likes her a lot because he liked Lucas a lot and we like him a whole lot--approached me. I said, "Well, there were three scores of 1 (the highest score) in the mezzo-soprano category and Kaley was one of them!"
Mr. Steves fidgeted around and responded, "Kaley did very well this morning; I mean Kaley did really well this morning."
"She sounded great to me but I am her Mom. I am supposed to think that so what do I know?" Dave and I noticed the judge seemed to want to eat Kaley as she approached her with praise but then the girl before Kaley....well, I don't want to be unkind. And we know nothing about music anyway.
"Oh, I am not supposed to tell anyone this before I tell the choir teacher," Mr. Steves exploded hastily, "but Kaley won her category--she did very well!" He then rushed off quickly to support his fabulous students. Wow! She is going to State!! Wow! And she beat the girl who beat her last year. Wow! And it was a different judge this year.
I watched my daughter with the gorgeous head over by the door to the PAC-- my frustrating passionate, maddening, difficult, beautiful Diva begin to jump up and down as a piece of paper was taped to the glass. She ran over to me, "MOM......!"
"I know...I already know!"
// posted by Janet @ 7:42 AM
0 comments
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Ground Hog Day
Some people never give this day a second thought. But for me, I have always found Ground Hog Day to be nothing but confusing. As the years pass, the day bothers me more and more. First of all, as a child I knew a lot about animals thanks to my Dad. In Western Montana, we had gophers, lateralis (ground) squirrels, regular squirrels, chipmunks, badgers, marmots, muskrats, beavers, various mice and rats, shrews and moles, skunks, porcupines, raccoons, cute little pikas, martens, weasels, and river otters but we did not have any GROUND HOGS.
Actually, as I name all of the above rodent like creatures, memories come to mind. As previously stated on this blog, we had a lateralis squirrel named "Chipper" as a pet and a raccoon named "Cooney". (Obviously, I must have named them.) The others I have seen in the wild both alive and dead as roadkill. I remember my Dad after a morning of salmon fishing in Idaho, fishing for gophers. A little gopher hole existed near our campsite and we had seen some babies scurrrying in and out. "Chipper" had been long gone so Dad decided we could use another pet from the wild. I am now totally opposed to capturing healthy wild animals as pets but this was the 60's and we did that sort of thing back then. Anyway, my Dad who had also tried fly fishing for bats unsuccessfully, rigged up a little noose from his fish line and placed it around the gopher hole. He then backed up with his fish pole, made himself hidden from any nearby Mama gophers and waited. The plan was to jerk his pole a bit, enough to tighten the noose around a baby gopher without hurting him and "voila", we would have "Gophie" for the next couple of years. Little Janet was excited. But alas, Mama gopher must have been watching the entire operation from an adjacent secret hole because we never did see any gophers--baby or otherwise--after that.
Back to Ground Hog Day. Every year in school we did some art project with ground hogs--an animal I had never seen nor knew a thing about. I tried to envision marmots which were about the closest thing we had to a ground hog and I knew from my personal experience that they were not afraid of their own shadow. And if the marmot cast a shadow, then this would mean the sun was out; if the sun was out, it must be a nice day which would mean spring might be just around the corner. After I had my own children, Ground Hog Day became even more complicated because around here, the existence of a shadow was even more indicative of a gorgeous spring-like day. And we do not have ground hogs here either!!
Evidently, today that ground hog named Phil in Pennsylvania saw his shadow and it was proclaimed six more weeks of winter suffering. I have decided that rather than be totally confused about Ground Hog Day, none of the hoopla applies to us. We do not have ground hogs and shadows mean sunshine. Sunshine in February means spring is here in the Puget Sound area and believe me it is. We have had weather in the 50's with no chance of rain; the mountains have been out and, last night......WOW......last night the sunset was so gorgeous, it made the news on King5.
On King5, pictures were shown from Federal Way which is South Sound. I live in North Sound and it was just as spectacular here. At 5:30 P. M. last night, the entire Puget Sound area was ablaze with beauty. Even the mountain beavers perched next to their little dens with a shadow behind them must have paused without fear.... and in complete awe.
photos taken at 5:30 P.M. on Ground Hog Day Eve
Some people never give this day a second thought. But for me, I have always found Ground Hog Day to be nothing but confusing. As the years pass, the day bothers me more and more. First of all, as a child I knew a lot about animals thanks to my Dad. In Western Montana, we had gophers, lateralis (ground) squirrels, regular squirrels, chipmunks, badgers, marmots, muskrats, beavers, various mice and rats, shrews and moles, skunks, porcupines, raccoons, cute little pikas, martens, weasels, and river otters but we did not have any GROUND HOGS.
Actually, as I name all of the above rodent like creatures, memories come to mind. As previously stated on this blog, we had a lateralis squirrel named "Chipper" as a pet and a raccoon named "Cooney". (Obviously, I must have named them.) The others I have seen in the wild both alive and dead as roadkill. I remember my Dad after a morning of salmon fishing in Idaho, fishing for gophers. A little gopher hole existed near our campsite and we had seen some babies scurrrying in and out. "Chipper" had been long gone so Dad decided we could use another pet from the wild. I am now totally opposed to capturing healthy wild animals as pets but this was the 60's and we did that sort of thing back then. Anyway, my Dad who had also tried fly fishing for bats unsuccessfully, rigged up a little noose from his fish line and placed it around the gopher hole. He then backed up with his fish pole, made himself hidden from any nearby Mama gophers and waited. The plan was to jerk his pole a bit, enough to tighten the noose around a baby gopher without hurting him and "voila", we would have "Gophie" for the next couple of years. Little Janet was excited. But alas, Mama gopher must have been watching the entire operation from an adjacent secret hole because we never did see any gophers--baby or otherwise--after that.
Back to Ground Hog Day. Every year in school we did some art project with ground hogs--an animal I had never seen nor knew a thing about. I tried to envision marmots which were about the closest thing we had to a ground hog and I knew from my personal experience that they were not afraid of their own shadow. And if the marmot cast a shadow, then this would mean the sun was out; if the sun was out, it must be a nice day which would mean spring might be just around the corner. After I had my own children, Ground Hog Day became even more complicated because around here, the existence of a shadow was even more indicative of a gorgeous spring-like day. And we do not have ground hogs here either!!
Evidently, today that ground hog named Phil in Pennsylvania saw his shadow and it was proclaimed six more weeks of winter suffering. I have decided that rather than be totally confused about Ground Hog Day, none of the hoopla applies to us. We do not have ground hogs and shadows mean sunshine. Sunshine in February means spring is here in the Puget Sound area and believe me it is. We have had weather in the 50's with no chance of rain; the mountains have been out and, last night......WOW......last night the sunset was so gorgeous, it made the news on King5.
On King5, pictures were shown from Federal Way which is South Sound. I live in North Sound and it was just as spectacular here. At 5:30 P. M. last night, the entire Puget Sound area was ablaze with beauty. Even the mountain beavers perched next to their little dens with a shadow behind them must have paused without fear.... and in complete awe.
photos taken at 5:30 P.M. on Ground Hog Day Eve
// posted by Janet @ 8:08 AM
0 comments
Links
ARCHIVES
- 12/01/2003 - 01/01/2004
- 01/01/2004 - 02/01/2004
- 02/01/2004 - 03/01/2004
- 03/01/2004 - 04/01/2004
- 04/01/2004 - 05/01/2004
- 05/01/2004 - 06/01/2004
- 06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004
- 07/01/2004 - 08/01/2004
- 08/01/2004 - 09/01/2004
- 09/01/2004 - 10/01/2004
- 10/01/2004 - 11/01/2004
- 11/01/2004 - 12/01/2004
- 12/01/2004 - 01/01/2005
- 01/01/2005 - 02/01/2005
- 02/01/2005 - 03/01/2005
- 03/01/2005 - 04/01/2005
- 04/01/2005 - 05/01/2005
- 05/01/2005 - 06/01/2005
- 06/01/2005 - 07/01/2005
- 07/01/2005 - 08/01/2005
- 08/01/2005 - 09/01/2005
- 09/01/2005 - 10/01/2005
- 10/01/2005 - 11/01/2005
- 11/01/2005 - 12/01/2005
- 12/01/2005 - 01/01/2006
- 01/01/2006 - 02/01/2006
- 02/01/2006 - 03/01/2006
- 03/01/2006 - 04/01/2006
- 04/01/2006 - 05/01/2006
- 05/01/2006 - 06/01/2006
- 06/01/2006 - 07/01/2006
- 07/01/2006 - 08/01/2006
- 08/01/2006 - 09/01/2006
- 09/01/2006 - 10/01/2006
- 10/01/2006 - 11/01/2006
- 11/01/2006 - 12/01/2006
- 12/01/2006 - 01/01/2007
- 01/01/2007 - 02/01/2007
- 02/01/2007 - 03/01/2007
- 03/01/2007 - 04/01/2007
- 04/01/2007 - 05/01/2007
- 05/01/2007 - 06/01/2007
- 06/01/2007 - 07/01/2007
- 07/01/2007 - 08/01/2007
- 08/01/2007 - 09/01/2007
- 09/01/2007 - 10/01/2007
- 10/01/2007 - 11/01/2007
- 11/01/2007 - 12/01/2007
- 12/01/2007 - 01/01/2008
- 01/01/2008 - 02/01/2008
- 02/01/2008 - 03/01/2008
- 03/01/2008 - 04/01/2008
- 04/01/2008 - 05/01/2008
- 05/01/2008 - 06/01/2008
- 06/01/2008 - 07/01/2008
- 07/01/2008 - 08/01/2008
- 08/01/2008 - 09/01/2008
- 09/01/2008 - 10/01/2008
- 10/01/2008 - 11/01/2008
- 11/01/2008 - 12/01/2008
- 12/01/2008 - 01/01/2009
- 01/01/2009 - 02/01/2009
- 02/01/2009 - 03/01/2009
- 03/01/2009 - 04/01/2009
- 05/01/2009 - 06/01/2009
- 06/01/2009 - 07/01/2009
- 07/01/2009 - 08/01/2009
- 08/01/2009 - 09/01/2009
- 09/01/2013 - 10/01/2013
- 10/01/2013 - 11/01/2013
- 12/01/2020 - 01/01/2021