BIG Orange

Mr. Last and I have been seeing these around town lately and reminiscing about when there were an abundance of them up and down the Valley. What is it? 

Well either the pod people are coming to beam us up to the Big Orange in the Sky, or this is a traveling slushy/sno-cone stand.

On the other hand, portable micro homes are fashionable in some circles so perhaps this is someone's dream on wheels. Whatever it is I am glad I was able to snap a shot of it at a red light during my lunch hour the other day. Stuff like this makes me happy. Don't ask me why. 

Goat dairies. Big Oranges. I don't analyze the happinesses I see on my journey, I just enjoy them. And keep them here for future enjoyment. 

That is all.


Love This Music

I haven't shared much of my musical tastes here at Oh My, Oma! but I  am actually quite a fan of soul. A while back I was enjoying Adele, until everyone started overplaying her. Currently obsessed with Fitz & The Tantrums. This tune is strangely cathartic for me right now: 


The Circle of Life

We have eagerly been awaiting a special arrival. 
Last night while these two were sleeping...
(They did not spend last night in their carseats in the truck. I just love this photo of them conked out after a recent outdoor adventure.)

...the tribe increased. 

Welcome, Other Brother, to the Rising Generation!

I see lots of snuggling and kissing coming your way. 

Back in the olden days (1977) I gathered round the television with my family every weeknight for a couple weeks in the dark of winter to watch the original broadcast of the dramatization of ROOTS, an important family history written by Alex Haley. The blessing of a baby takes place early in the first episode when Omoro holds his newborn son up to the night sky and says, "Kunta Kinte, behold. Meet the only thing greater than yourself."

A few years ago I reached out to my father during an extraordinarily difficult period in our family and I wrote to him about how I wanted to give bouquets to the living rather than send flowers to a funeral. Among other things I thanked him for sharing with me, from the time I was his tiny girl, the wonder of the moon and the stars, and I told him I would stand under the night sky when his life was over, and I would look up and find him there.

He loved every infant born to our family. He rocked and talked to them each. He would rock and talk to this one, but his life ended just days ago.  

So tonight I will go out and tell the sky how much I love this newborn baby boy, and each of the babies in our care. I will rock them and talk to them. And on starry nights in the future we will talk about Looking Up, and we will talk about Ancestors, and we will talk Coming and Going, and we will talk about How We Are All Connected.



My father died August 9. 

Sudden illness.

We were not prepared.

I am bereaved. 

Suffering the death of someone I love.
The experience is not simply sadness. It encompasses grief, but I have grieved other losses in my life and this is beyond that.

I am tired. Not tired of the kindness of others. Not tired of remembering him. Just unable to feel light right now. 

I'm confident I will accept my father's death and rejoin the human circus in a while. I will spend time with small children and animal companions who show us how to live completely in the moment. I feel loved. 

But right now I am doing what the bereaved do.

I am faking it until I make it. Going through ordinary motions of my daily life, speaking the lines I would ordinarily speak, and feeling thoroughly and completely unnatural. 

Forgive my awkwardness for a bit.

I am bereaved.


Quiet Life in the Country

Looks like we found our place. Offer accepted on a couple acres with a ranch house. Gonna need an apron. And we'll hafta get Pa some overalls.
Henry Lundgren, manager of dairy farm, with wife. Dakota County, Minnesota
Details forthcoming....
Image from Library of Congress photo archives