Happy Birthday, Mom!

Happy 60th Birthday, Mom!!!
I love you!

The lefsa tradition continues

As a kid, my Grama (Simmons) would make a whole host of Norwegian confections. We ate ourselves sick on krum kake (a Cannoli-like rolled vanilla cookie), sandbakkels (shortbread pressed and baked into flowery and ornate metal tins), rosettes (light, airy, and crispy cookies made on a rose-shaped branding iron dipped into thin pancake-like batter and then fried and dusted with powdered sugar), and the food-stuff that got all of us, kid or adult, standing in line at the kitchen door...lefsa.

Lefsa is a potato-based, Norwegian tortilla. It is the greatest thing to ever happen to the little tuber! Lefsa is quite labor intensive and involves the cooking of the paper-thin dough (made from mashed potatoes, butter, cream, and flour) on a hot griddle. It's thinness requires a delicate hand in rolling, moving, and cooking, and it takes many attempts to finally produce a perfectly toasty, un-holey, light and tasty lefsa.

In recent years before my grama's passing, we made it a point to have a day at her house dedicated solely to the perfection of lefsa. Luckily, my mom paid really close attention and herself has become the lefsa matriarch of the family. So, this Christmas we decided to celebrate our family, present and whole-heartedly missed, and had a lefsa making party at Mom's house!

Mom rolling out the lefsa dough with the special honey-combed lefsa roller.

Mom using the "lefsa stick" (often hand-made by my grandfather because none my grandmother could find commercially were ever thin enough to fit under the dough just right) to turn the lefsa on the griddle.

The fruits of our labor.

God jul (Merry Christmas), everyone!!!

Christmas Party at Melissa's

I'm a bit late in posting this, but...

Missy finally has her own place in Davis and she's made it a sweet, little home! She invited Mom, Dad, Paul, and me to her house this past month for a little Christmas party. She and my mom made the greatest food for the occasion...stuffed mushrooms, chicken wings, sun-dried tomato dip, pot stickers, egg rolls, gingerbread cookies, krum kake (a Norwegian cookie tradition in our family), and many other delicious concoctions. We ate, drank, and had a great time being entertained by Melissa's menagerie of pets.

Funny, as I looked back through photographs of the occasion, the most were taken of Bun Buns (Melissa's rabbit) and Paul playing together. Paul really likes Buns, and there have already been "discussions" about adding one to our family one day. In the meantime, Melissa lets us "borrow" her brood! It's good practice...

I love sunsets

The geography of Yolo County leaves nothing, really, to be desired. You've got lakes and creeks and plenty of mountains for hiking. The birds love the area, so we're never at a loss for hawks, falcons, or smaller song birds. And we are so fortunate as to be close enough to the lung-clogging pollution of the east bay and Fairfield to, in turn, experience the most vivid and awesome sunsets imaginable:

Our backyard...

Our backyard...again...

Melissa's backyard...

Little gems

Sometimes, I find that I get quite dismayed at the state of the world and the condition of humankind. I mean, one trip to the grocery store confirms that manners, respect, and ethics are making a slippery and insidious escape from our culture. There are times when the disintegration is just too much for me, and I retreat to the security, peace, and goodwill of our little home...sometimes, for an entire weekend.

I seem to have the hardest time understanding drivers these days. It's a long story, but I truly have very little tolerance when it comes to inconsiderate, impatient, and dangerous drivers. When I was younger, screaming and yelling seemed to help, and I was convinced that this firecracker-like combustion was a genuine relief of my anger. Now, I am slowly starting to see my behavior from a different perspective, through newer, smaller, younger eyes. One day, my children will learn from my behavior, and I don't wish that they deal with things as I have.

I've also been analyzing my coping mechanisms by the barometer of my renewed faith. Many of you know that, after 9 months of classes and study, I became a Catholic last Easter. I really found that many, many tenants of Catholicism resonated with how I viewed the world. These things aren't unique to Catholicism, necessarily, but they validated ideas in which I have felt alone (or at least out-numbered) for a very long time. One such thing is the innate respect we are commanded to have for ALL of God's people...even the ones we classify as enemies (this was the caveat I hadn't considered before). Actually, we are told to pray hardest for those people. This tenant didn't mesh with how I was coping with the rudeness and disrespect of those around me (and I despise hypocrisy).

So, I've been trying very hard (with the support and encouragement of my ever-patient husband) to change my ways. It's been very difficult for me to "turn the other cheek" and to ask that good things befall those who anger me (rather then the wrath and revenge fantasies I normally entertained).

But it's funny how we get just the right help at just the right time...

After a particularly soul-draining drive home from the Bay Area this past weekend, Paul and I stopped at the grocery store before retreating home for the night. By the time I got to the check stand, I was fit to be tied and not remembering much of my desire to live as God commands. As we were standing there, I found myself asking for help...help to conduct myself as I would want my children to see me.

Just then, this wrinkled old man with dancing eyes sidled up next to Paul and me. He looked down at our cart and cracked a joke about how green our pears were. Paul heard him and chuckled...I was still too caught-up in my revenge fantasies. He walked away but returned 30 seconds later. This time, he walked up to ME and handed me a little wooden figure with a mouth and eyes and nose drawn with black marker. He told me that he had just made 86 of them for the Ronald McDonald house in Sacramento...to give to the kids. He wanted me to have one. I was so moved (knocked right out of my struggle for vengeance), and I asked for his name. "Archibald Sylvester," he said, with a twinkle in his eye that told me his name changed every time it was solicited.

I stood there and stared at that figure for, what felt like, a good ten minutes. As I got up to the check stand, I looked down the row of other check stands to find that almost every person waiting for their groceries to be bagged was holding one of these little figurines. They were all smiling...they were all enthralled...and they all, whether they realized it or not, had been given back some of their faith in humanity.

As you can see from the little picture, I now have the figurine (Paul and I go back and forth as to whether it's a dog, a cow, a horse, or a combination of all three) Velcroed to my dash board. Mr. Sylvester gave me a much-needed gift that day. Now, when I'm at wits-end as I attempt to navigate the battlefield of our everyday, I have this gentle reminder, a little gem, of how good things really are...of how good I can make them.

Flashbacks

I've been trying to plow through the photographs I've amassed over the years. I've collected so many in the hopes of, one day, scrapbooking them, but I find that they are only gathering dust. So I've put a few into albums and digitized others for long-term storage. In the process of going through all those old photos, I found a couple that may elicit a chuckle or two.

This one was taken in the '80s. I think I was about 10 or 11 at the time. Dad (third from right, back row), Melissa (first from right, front row), and I (first from left, front row) all took Kenpo Karate classes together in the garage of a friend in Rosemont. We had a really good time together and I wish, quite often, that I had stuck with karate. Glad I didn't stick with the same hairstyle!

And this is my dear, sweet husband when he was about 3 or so years old. This picture is proudly displayed on his dad's desk, and I couldn't resist taking a picture of this picture during one of our visits. He still has those amazing, big, blue eyes...and still loves chocolate!

My sister, the dairy girl

My sweet sister...

Many of you know that Melissa has always been crazy about animals, but I'm not sure that many of you realize how "crazy" she really is.

Thursday through Sunday, ten hours per day, Melissa serves as the Lead Milker at the UC Davis Dairy. She rises before the sun and is milking cows by 3:30AM. She finishes milking 108 heifers, cows, and research animals by 9AM or so and then goes home to do what the rest of us do when we get off work. Then, after cooking and cleaning and taking care of her own brood of animals (now including Rusty the Australian Cattle Dog, Abigail the calico cat, Ursula the Plecostamous, and Honey Bunns the Rex/Dwarf Lions rabbit), she returns to work at 3:30PM and milks the herd all over again.

Each cow has its own distinct personality. Melissa knows them by name and their ear tag number, and she can give you a complete run-down of each cow's idiosyncrasies. She knows which ones kick, which ones are calm, which ones like to be rubbed, and which ones will flip you over a barrel if you look at them cross-eyed. It's a good thing she does because milking is a rough business. She's had her hand and multiple fingers broken multiple times. She's come home with bruises the size of grapefruits and welts that only the hoof of a 2000 pound animal can leave on one's hand. She's even been on high-powered antibiotics to rid her body of bacterial infections acquired from the filthy beasts.
The dairy has benefited greatly from Melissa's patience, dedication, and muscle mass (this girl gots guns!!!). She joined the dairy in 2004 as an undergraduate resident. In exchange for 20 hours of labor a week (it turned out to be much more than that), she lived in the residence barn on the dairy grounds. Every day, she helped milk cows, feed cows, bottle feed calves, birth heifers, and maintain the dairy. She learned to drive a tractor and can drive a third axle better than anyone I've ever seen. In 2006 she applied for and became one of two student herd managers, a very prestigious position at the dairy. As the herd manager, she learned how to artificially inseminate cows, give IVs and injections, and she was responsible for selecting, grooming, and showing the university's cows at the California State Fair (where she won 4th place in both 2004 and 2005) and the Yolo County Fair (where she won 3rd place in 2004).

As the lead milker, she was recently honored by the Hilmar Cheese Company with the Cream of the Crop Award. Each year, Hilmar selects the California dairies that maintain the highest standards of milk quality (judged by protein concentration, fat content, cell counts, etc...all factors directly influenced by the skill, observations, and vigilance of the milker) and facility cleanliness. UC Davis had previously placed 7th in the state. In 2006, after Melissa assumed the responsibilities of the lead milker, UC Davis placed 3rd out of 275 dairies in the state of California.
In many ways, my baby sister is my hero. Prior to going to UCD, the largest animal she had ever worked with was our German Shepherd, Kodie. She got to UCD, after transferring from American River College, and decided to sign-up for a milking internship...and the rest in history. She has had many ups and downs in school but, through it all, she has persevered. She's had people tell her that she wouldn't be able to make it, and she's proven them all wrong. She works harder than anyone I know to learn what she's asked to learn, and she works diligently and without complaint to get the job done right. She's gentle and kind to the animals AND the people (ahhhh, university politics) that push her around every day.

More than anything, my sister is a fighter. She has persevered and taught me so very much in the process. If she weren't my sister, and I were to know her as an acquaintance, I'd wish with all my might that SHE would want to be MY friend. There isn't a luckier soul on this planet than the one who can count her among their loyal friends.

I love you, Missy!

Happy Birthday, Dad!

It's a day early, but my wonderful dad is about to turn another year young. We celebrated his birthday this past weekend. Mom made his favorite dinner (breakfast...waffles, eggs, sausage, and bacon), and we had a raucous time as only can be had around the Simmons table!

Happy Birthday, Dad...we love you!

Freedom is never free...

In the beginning of a change, the patriot is a scarce man, and brave, and hated and scorned. When his cause succeeds, the timid join him, for then it costs nothing to be a patriot.

~Mark Twain, Notebook, 1935



I'm a bit early posting this for Veteran's Day, but I figured it would take me a while to compose both my thoughts and myself. I have a hard time speaking about Veteran's Day. Though I may be a wife and sister, nothing has shaped my outlook on life as much as being the daughter of a Vietnam Veteran.

Jose Narosky once said that, "In war, are there are no uninjured soldiers." I think that anyone who has truly known a veteran of war can see the amazing wisdom and painful truth in that statement. As the proud daughter of a U.S. Marine, granddaughter of the Army and Navy, I can't help but get a little emotional when, as a nation, we acknowledge our veterans.

To many, Veteran's Day is marked by the One-Day-Sale that JC Pennys throws every year or a day home from school or work (one that the University of California refused to acknowledge until three years ago). To me, it's a time to reflect upon what I've been given and, in turn, what has been taken from others. I've been given the ability to live a life limited only by my desires and not by fear or dictation. Liberty is easy to take for granted when it's never been taken from you. So, what was it's cost? What did another pay in order that I may live in peace? They, the brave men and women who have served in every war and conflict, have paid that ransom. From World War II to the current war in Iraq, men and women are paying with THEIR freedom. They give up the ability to come and go on that observed day off, to shop that sale, to live in the bliss of ignorance. They, instead, agreed to leave their spouses, their young children, their lives. They agreed to see the worst of human kind, to see things that no one should have to witness, and to do things that no God-fearing, compassionate human should have to do. You don't make those kind of sacrifices without allowing a part of yourself to change...die...forever. Ask any serviceman's wife...the man who came home to her WAS NOT the man she sent. Any child of a veteran will tell you that there were times when they only had half of that parent.

These men and women give up so much for us, that a day in their honor is hardly enough to say "thank you." As JFK once said, "...we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them." I say that, instead of claiming to be a patriot and an American, we start living in appreciation of those people who have made that possible.

*Think twice before swerving around the 75 year old driver in front of you as he thwarts your progress...he may have helped liberate a Nazi internment camp.

*Support legislation, and implore your representatives to do the same, that improves the health care options and coverage for our vets. (When they signed up to fight for your freedom, your silence and inaction was a response of "yes, we will take care of you when YOU need it.")

*Attend a Veteran's Day parade...even if you don't know a vet.

*GET MAD when you hear of a serviceman's wife being deported while he is fighting in Iraq...GET MAD when you hear that our returning soldiers are being offered no better mental health treatment than their fathers were offered when they came home from Vietnam...resist the urge to judge and GET MAD when you see a homeless vet on the street, begging for your spare anything.

*At this holiday season, take one of the multitude of opportunities to say "thank you" to our service men and women by sending care packages, Christmas Cards, and other correspondence to those over-seas...let them know that, at this holy time, we are praying for and indebted to each and every one of them.

*Teach your children to honor and look up to REAL heroes...

And, in our daily lives, let us not forget that:

It is the soldier, not the reporter, who gave us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag...

Who allows the protester to burn the flag.

- General Douglas MacArthur

Amen.

Nature's billboard

About late-September my hands start itching for the crafting and baking season ahead. With pharmacy school applications and work stress filling my plate, I staved off the urge to craft until just recently. The other night I couldn't take it any longer and found myself (and my sweet husband, bless his willing and brave heart) wandering the aisles of the local craft store.

I love seeing wreaths on the front doors of homes. There's something so very welcoming about the simple decoration. It goes beyond its shape...the circle, complete and never-ending, being inherently satisfying (from a religious and mathematical standpoint). Wreaths are like nature's billboards. People used to assemble wreaths from grape vine and straw in the fall, crisp evergreen boughs in the winter, and the glorious grasses and fragrant blooms of the earth in the spring. There was a time when you ate and worked by the limitations of the weather, climate, and soil. We were far more integrated into the cycles of the earth then. Now, we have fresh, summer produce year-round, and we complain when our grocery store's tomatoes are so puny (and pricey)...in December.

Perhaps that's why I find wreaths so comforting. They are a reminder of the changing seasons, the renewal of life, and our connection and (even though we like to deny it AND defy it) our dependence upon what the earth is willing to provide.

While I didn't gleam my wreath's accessories from the glorious bounty of fall, I did try and mimic that warmth with sunflowers, black-eyed susans, fall foliage, and grape vines. (I don't know how the hot glue fits into the autumn scheme, but it certainly was easier than hand-tying everything into the vines). So now our sweet home has a "billboard" of her own. Fall is here at the Domer House, and we're looking forward to the holidays ahead!

Happy Halloween...ipso facto

It's a few days after the fact, but here was the Domer showing for Halloween this year. The little pumpkins we adopted in Apple Hill gave, valiantly, their innards for our amusement. Paul and I carved a few pumpkins to greet our trick-or-treaters as they made their way through the night. We, in turn, roasted the pumpkin seeds and have had snacks for days.

We got a lot of trick-or-treaters this year. It was our first Halloween in our little house on the tomato field. Being that Paul and I are both on Weight Watchers right now, we tried to get candy that would be less tempting than other varieties we would normally give out. Nice try...the fruity, tangy treats were still a temptation, but luckily the kids came to the door so quickly that the Nerds, Skittles, Starbursts, and Jujyfruits disappeared.

Happy Halloween!

In true, ipso facto, Domer-style!!!

UCSF Application Day

After the blessing of last year's rejection, I'm re-applying to the UCSF School of Pharmacy for the entering class of 2008. I called UCSF earlier this year to get some insight into how I could improve my application and why it was that I was rejected (what an awful word!) last year. The adviser started off the phone consultation by telling me that it was the easiest re-applicant advising appointment that he had ever had. He said that my grades were strong, my writing was skilled, and that I had more research experience and publications than any applicant in the history of the program. So what gives?! He went on to state that the only concern the reviewers had was whether or not the Ph.D. was more the degree that I desired. The worry was an economic one from their standpoint - they feared that I would grow weary of and disenchanted with the Pharm.D. and quit the program. This would leave an empty seat (UCSF doesn't accept transfer students) and economic sink in the class for the four years of its journey. The adviser told me, in writing my re applicant essay, to convince the committee that I have well-researched the field of pharmacy and that I wouldn't be a flight risk.

So, I did just that, and the three Simmons girls jumped in the car for a road trip to UCSF. After we dropped off the application, we blew off some steam by driving up the coast a bit to Point Reyes Station and grabbing some lunch. We stopped in at the Bovine Bakery (a thrill for Melissa, the dairy girl) and got some fresh whole wheat bread packed with nuts and seeds. We tried to pay a visit to the Cowgirl Creamery, but they kept tourist hours and weren't open on a Monday for those of us playing hookie from work. So, we grabbed some herbed goat cheese at a neighboring mart and found a sweet little secluded spot to have our "picnic" lunch. We parked at a little Catholic Church in Olema, The Immaculate Heart of Jesus, and had our picnic near a Marian shrine hiding in the shade of some redwoods. We posed for a few pictures (thanks, Missy!) and were on our way.
After a review of applications, sometime in December, the school should be sending out its offers for January/February interviews (as well as their out-right rejection letters). So, for now, the fingers are crossed...waiting, for the future of the Domer Family to unfold!

Apple Hill adventures

Paul and I played hookie from work one day not too long ago and decided to relive a childhood memory of mine. Mom used to take Melissa and me up to Apple Hill in the fall to enjoy Abel's apple cider, apple pie, autumn foliage, and a road trip (the Simmons girls liked road trips). So Paul and I packed up the VW and headed east for a day among the apple trees. We ate pie and pulled pork sandwiches, and we picked our own apples in a sprawling orchard run by a sweet German family.

We also thought it might be cool to run amok in the pumpkin patches up there and buy a pumpkin or two for the Halloween and Thanksgiving holidays ahead. So we grabbed a wheel barrow and some clippers and set out to find our pumpkins. We wound up adopting 10 or so little squashes that we planned to give to family and friends. When we got home, Paul baked a couple of the youngest ones and turned them into one of the greatest pumpkin pies I've ever devoured. I'm so lucky to have married an adventurous man who cooks...adventurously!

It was a good day!

The leaves are changing color...

Paul and I are very fortunate to have such an easy and enjoyable commute home from work every day. Instead of having to brave I-80 with the folks heading east to Sacramento or west to Fairfield and the bay, we head north on little Hwy 113. It runs from Yuba City to Rio Vista and conveniently has links to Hwy 99, 45, and 12, as well as allowing easy access to I-5 and 80. For such a vital freeway, the traffic is always light and the scenery is lovely. It runs through the agricultural fields of Yolo County and is home to hordes of wild turkeys and herons and red-tailed hawks (when the fields are tilled in the fall). As you drive 113 through Davis, both sides of the freeway are lined with lovely trees (not sure of the the kind...I'm working on that one) that signal, every year, that fall is on its way. They turn brilliant hues of crimson and marigold. Often times, they appear illuminated from within, and they take my breath away every year. I'm a bit late posting these pictures as the color parade commenced a couple of weeks ago, but fall is still in the air and the trees know.

About four years ago, I had the pleasure of a very brief exchange with a Kenyan man aboard a KLM flight bound for Amsterdam. We were both trying to keep from falling asleep on the 14 hour flight from Minneapolis when, after many hours of darkness, the sun started to break free of the horizon just as we neared the shores of Ireland. I looked out the window at the sunrise, resplendent and alive (a metaphor for my own being as I got closer and closer to fulfilling my fantasies of traveling the Tuscan countryside), and I must have audibly gasped at the site before me. The Kenyan man, gently and with a wisdom earned not through his tender age, replied, "God really is an artist." It was a sunrise...but if we open our eyes, his pallet knows no boundaries.

Happy fall, everyone!

Some wedding pictures

Paul and I have set-up a website with photographs of our wedding day, but I thought that I might share a few of my favorites here. It truly was a wonderful day!

Saint Rita's Catholic Church - Fairfax, CA

Our new family!

My handsome husband

My favorite wedding photo...thanks, Aunt Wendie!

The beginning...

Paul and I joined our lives as best friends, partners, and soul's mates on May 19, 2007, at Saint Rita's Catholic Church in Fairfax, CA. It was a glorious day, and we both were moved by the overwhelming support of so many friends and our beautiful family.

Life is so good!

Gonna give this a try

Hello family and friends! After reading the blogs of a couple of my cousins (thanks, Kristen and Sarah!), I was moved and motivated to start one for me and my husband...the new Domer family!

We're nearing the end of our fifth month as newly weds! Marriage really is the most sacred and blessed of unions, and we are so thankful to have the love and support of so many family members and friends as we embark on this great adventure!

We'd love to keep ya'll updated on the happenings of the Domer Family! I have often cursed this electronic age in which we live, but being able to update family and friends in this way, from miles away, really is quite an amazing thing. This next year, aside from being our first year as husband and wife, holds many exciting opportunities for our family. We hope to be doing more camping, hiking, and road-tripping as well as applying to pharmacy school and (hopefully) moving to San Francisco. We hope you all enjoy, and please feel free to drop us a line some time!

With much love,
Keira and Paul (The Domers)