just along for the ride...

Illustration by Richard Scary

A couple of times now I have wanted to write some things down. The first being at a nearby zoo-like thingy where they keep a few animals in cages for the publics' passing fancy of visiting such places. We were visiting some lemurs, some of the typical variety with strip-ed tales, and one solid little fellow who was sitting right next to the mesh that surrounded him, peering into the eyes of anyone who would come down to his level. I knew right off that this little guy posessed an upper level of intelligence. Wherever he came from, he was probably the brains of the group; & now all his buddies, left behind in the wild, are probably wandering in circles. So, anyway, I said something brilliant like, "That guy looks super smart." I don't know. When you walk up to animals behind bars, you are supposed to comment. At first I didn't notice that Hannah took an interest in what I said, but moments later, she was over there giving that little guy instructions on how to break out of there. All the other monkeys were oblivious, but no doubt he'll let them tag along when he makes his escape. My Hannah always knows what to do. Clearly, she's the brains of the group. Now this last bit is completely unrelated. It happens to be the next thing I thought of jotting down after the zoo incident; that's the only relation. I just saw some words in a book that seemed to fit exactly my family standards, my life goals, my plan of attack, so I adopted them to myself in the order in which they were diplayed. And now I will share them here with you, unchanged, because I liked them just the way they were. It's called copyright infringement. Kind of reminds me of those other monkeys waiting for that one guy to open the latch. That's a scary thought. You know what, why risk it? I think I'll just keep it to myself. You really can learn a great deal about yourself from reading books, though, perusing other people's words about life. Sometimes you make connections, & it's like, 'Ya, me too!' You might be a follower, but for that brief moment you will feel really awesome, like you thought up that thought all on your own. It's totally worth it.

 

 

tomorrowland...

Sadly, i do not know the artist

When I get old, I'm going to tie a scarf around my head, and dress, and live, and dream as if i live in a tiny storybook cottage in the wood. This is what's lovely about getting old. You can wear soft colors, and aprons, and long skirts. You can dress yourself like a little doll and be a child all over again. Once upon a time there was an old lady who liked to stop by for free samples now and again. I love blessing her with free coffee. I think she thanked me for my smile once. One day, my boss decided to make free sample cups more accessible (customers used to have to ask). So when this lady came to me seeking a cup, i reluctantly told her that she didn't need to ask anymore, but i asked her if she would, please, still get my attention and say hello when she comes in... and she does, every time. I don't think she speaks much English and we don't say much...just hello. Once she told me about a trip to California to see her grandkids. She doesn't wear a scarf on her head, but she looks like she would, if she were in her home country, perhaps (which i would guess to be Poland). She looks like she deserves a little cottage in the woods, a cottage with a chimney, and a son who chops firewood, and grandchildren all around. Something about the scarf made me think of her; and don't ask me where the scarf came from, it was just pretend.

 

the sad swing switch...

Illustration by Dorothy Lathrop

 

Sunday, we moved our rope swing out to the garden tree. It now has a lovely wooden seat & you can see the pond while you swing & be near our resident cat bird & see the sunflowers in the garden (as soon as we plant some). You can sit and view the orchard, and the lovely berries, and you don't have to worry about dust from the random car that passes by. That being said, there are some who were quite attached to the old swing in it's old location & it was a painful thing to see someone sawing away at that old rope way up in the treetops. So there was a secret memorial which consisted of a ring of daisies in the sandy spot where little feet used to drag the ground at the base of the old swing tree. Either that or a few stray tears just happened to produce that ring of flowers, I'm not sure, because they just appeared there. Either way, there was sadness involved. There was a certain someone who disappeared into the woods while the whole switcheroo took place, someone who looks a lot like the anenome-picking mermaid in this picture; but she emerged from the wood, eventually, and it just-so-happens she was quite happy with this new sit-down swing, remembering how much it reminds her of the old old swing which preceded the rope swing. That wooden seat broke in two when the kids accidentally maliciously piled all the cousins along with themselves onto the swing together, all at once, for a very short ride. My sweet little family; we're all so very nostalgic and rambunctious. I think we will try to hang another rope swing in front at some point, if we haven't all lost our nerve and someone is still brave enough to climb up there and hang it. I mean, we already have the bald spot in the grass, there might as well be a swing there to go with it. Who says we can't have a rope swing and a sit-down swing. I always thought the rope swing was too skinny anyway. Who can sit on that wee little knot? Not I? All's well that ends well, I suppose, but as long as we're having memorials, this can be mine.

 

whatever you wish for you keep...

Illustration by Mary Blair

Not long ago I posted a blog with the title 'i'm keeping them all'. It was a blog about words. All my blogs are about blogs, you know.... blogs, words, thoughts, feelings, pictures, and etc... All these things go so well together, and they are conglomerately my happy place. I don't really know what to do with them, so i just keep picking them up, rearranging them, and setting them back down again...kind of miserly i suppose, but i've started a new little project which might prove to be a bit more instrumental to some purpose, i know not what. I decided that my sweet little blogs are going to put on their Sunday best and matching socks and head out into the world to be noticed by someone. It's going to be a parade of sorts, a parade of lovelies, where you can scroll to your hearts delight. What i really want to do is share all the wonderful images i've collected, but i want to do it properly, so it's going to take a little time for us to get ready (captions & credits & whatnot). For instance, i think if you click on this image above, you will find that it's an illustration by Mary Blair. That is something that everyone should know. Me, myself, i prefer to be unknown, but i'll keep my position here as the mysterious narrator, like Lemony Snicket or Dr. Claw. (Dr. Claw isn't really a narrator, but you only ever get to see the back of his swivel chair and the world outside his windshield, so it makes sense, trust me.) So anyway, i just wanted to share my little plan. I'm excited; and i hope all the world is a lovelier, truer, more honorable place as a result.

 

the sky is included...

Illustration by Jesse Wilcox Smith

So many added blessings in every day, just thrown on top... heaped up, lobbed over, largely unnoticed, but available, plentiful, ready, and waiting for your enjoyment.

 

once upon a misty morning...

Illustration by Katharine Pyle

This is how i feel today. It's true i don't always feel this way. And so i pulled over just to say, as a reminder to me, since i can't always see that every body can't always like every other body. And that really is O.K. I was just feeling very content thinking about the fact that there are people you will get along with in this world and there are other people who you may not get along with. Normally, it's quite painful for me to admit that, because, of course, i want everyone to like me. But the fact is everybody does not like me, and everybody i ever meet in the future is not guaranteed to like me. I'm sure i unwittingly step on other people's toes all the time. But enough about that. Since for some unknown reason this thought occurred to me out of the blue; and for whatever reason i was completely okay with the idea that there are probably a great many people in this world who want nothing to do with me, I thought i better write it down before i forget it. Oh, and i even made it into a snappy little rhyme- not sure why, sometimes that just happens.

Ps. I'm not sure where that title came from, it was the first thing that came to me. I googled it to see if it was a remnant from a nursery rhyme or something, but alas all i could find was "One Misty, Moisty, Morning" (a lovely rhyme by the way). Anyway, if i ever write a book i may start it that way. I like it. If you happen to have heard that phrase before, and you know where it came from, will you please let me know? Thanks.

 

 

end of the line...

Illustration by Roberto Innocenti

March is absolutely missing, I'm completely out of patches, and i'm okay with that. It was a great run. Six whole years of non-stop blogging. And now i guess we'll just settle down into a new routine where we don't care what month it is, not in the least. No more patches, no more excuses. What a relief! Meanwhile, Snow & i are trying to start an etsy shop for vintage finds which i know i'm going to have a very hard time parting with. Also, I've been feeling so nostalgic lately. What's the deal?! Let's see... I started my herb garden; and there's a baby bunny living all by his lonesome under the pile of wood beneath my bathroom window. (Emmeli named him Little Ball Bunny. At first, i thought she was saying little bald bunny. Little Ball Bunny is so much nicer. Nobody likes a bald bunny....kinda defeats the point of being a rabbit.) Our new bees are now nestled in their squatty little hives; we have frogs galore wildly reproducing and populating our pond with tadpoles; and that's pretty much it. I really just wanted to pop in & lay to rest my old ideals. I'm thru with that business once and for all. Really, it changes nothing, other than, hopefully, i'll stop talking about it all the time. The End. (I just wanted to say that. This is not the end.) i mean... it's the end of excuses. It is not the end of the blog. Ok. Gotta go now.

 

back to nature...

Illustration by Robert Lawson

After my last blog, I thought it best to keep this simple, so I'll try to find the simplest route to get you to the place where Ferdinand the bull is actually a dog, and his name is not Ferdinand, but Owen. Or, I can keep it really really simple, and you can just take my word for it. We do have a picture of Owen picking a dandelion, if that helps. Just email me and i'll send you proof. So anyway, he's adorable. He's 4 years old now, and I still call him puppy, because he is so very much so. He loves life; he's a simple dog who comes when you say come; he loves his master; and he sits when you ask him (or, at least, he very much wants to sit, but he'll often choose to shake hands instead). Oops, i forgot to mention that, of course, like most dogs, he loves the outdoors. And now, we're finally coming around to what i wanted to tell you, though i'm not sure how to describe it. Besides the fact that yesterday i read something that pretty much told me that my writing style is pure jargon, which is causing me to thoroughly analyze everything i want to say, this is a thing which is just difficult to explain. Owen has developed a certain fondness for a fern in the living room. He likes to bury his head in the foliage and simply hang out like that. It's some sort of symbiotic relationship which we don't quite understand. Seeing him like that reminded me of the dandelion picture, and i realized, this dog simply loves nature. No doubt, as he's standing there with his little leaf hat, he's dreaming of far away places where he can act like the natives and not be told to sit. I love my puppy. He's the sweetest puppy ever and super duper sophisticated. I know that everything he does makes perfect sense somehow, and i'm willing to accept, that in this area, apparently i'm just not capable of reasoning it out.

 

i'm still here...

Illustration by Libico Maraja

Sometimes i think i got too much attention as a child (bc i was the youngest), then i think maybe i didn't get enough (bc both of my parents worked). Not sure which is true, but the fact is, somehow i feel like i need people to notice me all the time. Really, it's much more complicated than that, because i don't just want people to notice me, i want everyone to like me. Ordinarily, I just sort it out by retreating to my inner lair and trying to think happy thoughts that have nothing to do with myself. Is this normal!? And should i be ignoring my kids to prepare them for the real world? That is an excellent question. The world is a busy place and people just don't have time to be noticing people all the time. Life is very complex. I wonder how people manage it all. I'm going to break away now and say something sensational. Life is like a cup of coffee... it's only pleasant if you add milk and honey, and that's all i have to say about that.

 

 

sharing is caring...

Illustration by Judith Kerr

So, i want to start off by saying, that if you receive this email, it's because you are one of my top ten favorite people of and for all time. There are lots of people who I really really do like a lot, who do not receive it, because I'm still debating with myself about whether or not I think they would care to read my silly rants. I recently discovered why I like writing so much. It's because you can ERASE! I can't tell you how many times I say things out loud only to think, later, how the thing definitely could have been worded better. But that is getting off topic. I was going to go on to say, (now that we're here and I can be myself), that I must have checked my email 50 times yesterday to see if anyone responded to an album I posted. I'm just throwing that out there. It's part of my personality, I guess. We all have one (a personality). If you are wondering about yours, there are tests you can take that will explain to you why you do such things, but they're awkward; I wouldn't recommend it. I think this is why I gave up Facebook. If I posted stuff every day, there'd be no end to checking back for responses. The thing about this online communication is that response time is so delayed! Who can stand it?! Anyway, now that the urge to keep checking back has worn off, I'm feeling brave, so I just wanted to stop by here and admit my nutiness.

sneakpeek...

Illustration by Mary Blair

I'll probably go back and change this image later, because I'm kinda funny like that, but for now, I like this little splash of color. My brain is stuck in a whorl of Walt Disney tinged by Tim Burton. I wish I had something to tell you, but my only thoughts are of things of no consequence... little tea party embellishments and frills, velour top hats, and whiskers. These are the things that make the woods woody, but they are not to be spoken of. For, like the magic of many things, they ninja vanish the instant they are discovered. They have to be noticed peripherally and if you per chance wish to photograph them, it must be in a fog or with a shaded lense, which is exactly what I intend to do. I caught wind of a gathering, and I will most certainly be there as an observer. If I find anything worth mentioning, I'll be back here to report my findings. As of now, all I know is that there will be tea and crumpets, plum jam, a couple of tweedles, and a massive, manly, march hare. Also, sweet, sweet Petunia...I mean Alice now has a proper petticoat; and I would not doubt it if all the buds on the trees burst forth to shade the event. I think they know something is up. All the birds are talking about it as well. If only there were violets in the wood. I do dearly love violets, but I think they are hiding. In the meantime, if we are all very patient, I think things will happen as they should without any further assistance. Sometimes, I confess, when I see these things stirring, I want to pitch in a little something, but I have to be very sneaky about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to give the impression that these things are done on a whim. No doubt they take very careful planning, but by whom? That is the question. I am perfectly suited for this particular variety of stealth, though. In fact, if I could not be so stealthy now & then what would I do? Remember what Bambi's mom said... "Bambi. Quick! The thicket!" Thickets are where I belong; and that's where I'll be if you need me... waiting and watching like a little dormouse, sneaking a morsel of crumpet and plum jam.

 

ready, set, go...

Illustration by Milo Winter

Highlights of my day: A flat white with hazelnut & whipped cream (I'm being serious, it's worth mentioning); a trip to REI with Ben to get pants & ski poles (it's always fun to spend money that you don't have), & an afternoon playing Minecraft with Em. I know that all sounds pretty unexciting, but it was so awesome to spend the day doing nothing noteworthy; and playing Minecraft when you're doing nothing makes you feel so productive. The coffee really was amazing and I hope to repeat the whole process tomorrow. First...church, then...out for coffee, then...frag swap in place of REI, and then...back to me casa to squander more time building with blocks, digging, chopping, cooking, and feeding my glitchy dog, Lazarus, some rotten zombie flesh. I know that sounds really disgusting. I can't help it. The fact is, that's what he eats. So, anyway, I just want to finish by saying that I've wanted to blog pretty much every day, for the past few days, so that's a good sign. Now that I'm here, I just can't remember what I wanted to talk about. So, I'll be off then, but I really feel this may be the start of something. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the bluebird out my window. There were five, actually, but I got a picture of one. He was so cute, and beautiful too. I love bluebirds and they love me. I know, because they're always poking around outside my windows. K. That's quite enough for today. You have to ease into these things, you know. Bye for now.

Ps. for clarification... A frag swap is an event where aquarium people mostly swap fragments of coral for cash. It is not strictly a barter system.

 

when blogs go missing...

Illustration by Libico Maraja

So, this is my second third fourth fifth attempt at blogging this blog. The first was accidentally deleted. Then, after writing it again, I hated it, but left it here to be revisited at a later date, and so on and so forth, until here we are at it again. I was actually pretty happy with #4 until, unfortunately, it too was deleted. There were several attempts made which contained a great many words which were set forth to explain a thing which I will not attempt to explain again. It's simply too difficult to put in so much persuasive feeling the fifth time around! You are probably wondering, then why even mention it?! Right? Well, there are just some things in life which have to be resurrected, especially when they are the only blog you started in January. And since my original blog was about missing digits, this lovely picture suits my new purpose quite well, which is to illustrate a person attempting to force her way through an impassable door, a person who is likely chasing after a white rabbit. So, now that i've decided to leave off of my retrospective fretting about missing digits and be done with it, i just want to say, that this original blog had something to do with working for zero dollars. It's quite fitting, actually, that this blog should amount to nothing, and I didn't even plan that! Now, if i could only think of a proper ending to this fiasco...but i can't. The whole thing is just awkward.

 

new topick...

This is a pick (a person or a thing chosen or selected) for an old blog which I never entered. And it's perfect, because it was perfectly abandoned here, like some other things I won't quite yet mention.... neglected and abandoned and looking a little lost in spite of its cuteness. This blog was to be about Emmeli telling me that "her life would not be complete until she sees a proper top hat, a proper tuxedo, & a proper goatee," (an utterance which should in no wise be left undocumented). Several weeks ago, (and by several I mean more than a few) we saw a man in an alleyway downtown all dressed up and playing his guitar for cash & coin. Emmeli later asked me if that man was wearing a tuxedo. I guess it was a tuxedo of sorts, but sort of a gypsy's version of a tuxedo (in my opinion more lovely, but not quite a "proper" tuxedo). I tried to answer appropriately and soon uncovered the why of the asking, but never quite got to the bottom of where this 'proper' business had its origins. She is quite serious about it. Tell me, how exactly does one know what is a proper goatee? Because I've seen many a fine goatee which turned out not to be quite proper enough. Anyway, whatever started this little head on this mighty quest, we're on it; I'll try to keep you informed on the latest findings....which brings me back to my reason for coming here. I guess I am officially off my blogging once a month routine. It's sad in a way, but perhaps there'll be a comeback, and perhaps the blogger will be much improved. In the meantime, my plan is to be here as often as I can, to keep my eyes open, to try not to let too much slip by unnoticed, so as not to let this documentary fade into oblivion.

(Added 2/24/15) The nakedest statement of all: I missed a blog, hence the comment about 'officially being off my once a month routine'. But i found a note i jotted down in November, which was a quote from ben. I used my mindpowers to turn it into a blog. And i'm so happy to have it. (See "retrovision.") So happy to patch up that hole. And i'm not ashamed, really. A few patches here and there just make it all the more piratey.

retrovision...

Illustration by Maurice Lalau

"If i had to do it all over, i'd do it again, same way." - ben

In retrospect, i recall how you held me and, out of the blue, spoke to me something which told me, this was no ordinary hug. There was nothing particular going on that day, but in you, there were torrents. The light seeped in and you reforested my heart like magic beans.

 

goody goody gumdrops...

Does anyone here happen to know what it was that urged Little Red Riding Hood to brave the deep dark woods and the big bad wolf? I know, and I'll tell you. She had to deliver piping hot goodies to Grandma. How about the sweet little petit four marked 'eat me' which was left for Alice in Wonderland, wasn't it so cute & irresistable? Also, do you remember why those poor, naughty little kittens were always crying? All they wanted was pie. Little Jack Horner (pie), Hansel & Gretel (lured into a house made of cookies), the Gingerbread Man (cookie). Let's face it, fairytales and rhymes are rife with pastries. Do you know why? Because everybody knows that everybody wants pastries. They supply the exact symbolism of joy and good cheer, satisfaction, generosity, enticement. Even the promised land came with (no, not fruits & veggies) complimentary milk & honey. For what purpose? For making pastries, no doubt. You know what will brighten anyones's day? A cupcake. A cinnamon roll. Even in our gluten-free, dairy-free, sugar-free society, people want their own versions of this stuff. All of that jargon, so poorly articulated to say this, working in a bakery is sweet. No, I'm not trying to pun. I really mean it's sweet. The use of the term 'sweet' there was the natural thing to say. This just goes to show you that even our vocabulary is infected with confectionary allusions. If I only had the time, I could tell you about all the lovely bakery sights & wonderful smells, et al. But alas, I must get to school so I can teach my children about Napoleon, (who, by the way, has a treat named after him). So far it sounds like he was a pretty nice guy, which I wouldn't have guessed. Maybe I'll write something about him when we're done. But before I go, I just want you to know... just as Napoleon's are flaky on the outside, but have hidden layers of sweetness, bakeries can be deceiving at first glance. Like Forest Gump says, you never know what you're gonna get. Sometimes strange things happen in bakeries, leaving you to wonder, 'What's going on in this candy-coated heart of darkness?!'

 

damsel in distress...

Illustration by Henri Faivre

Sometimes, when things are going along just swimmingly, there may, at some point, be something which appears altogether wrong/ out of place/ not in sync. I'm trying hard not to focus on such things. For instance, if I walk into a room which is perfectly clean and tidy, it may, perchance, come to my attention that there is a painting on the wall which is slightly askew. Now, if the room were a disaster, would I have noticed? Probably not; I'd probably be too busy noticing some other more bothersome annoyance. So this is what I'm trying to teach myself to remember. When, sometimes, there is some very irksome thing, think, why is that so bothersome? And the answer is... because it's not in harmony with the whole. Why is it not in harmony with the whole? Because it is a wrong in a room full of right. Seriously, you can't expect to have it all! And what joy that there is but one grievance! This is brilliant! Now, when I walk into a room which is chock-full o' congruence, I shall say, 'Wow! Just look at how nicely that sofa lines up with that coffee table; and isn't it lovely how the rug, too, agrees with the set pattern of lines!' And in so doing, I shall be at peace with my surroundings. Now, that being said, sometimes that one thing which is out of place may be, say, a wolf who wants to eat you, or Hitler. I'm thinking on a bit wider scale now. I was just thinking how sometimes it is not good to turn a blind eye to things which are begging to be adjusted. (Hitler was the first thing that came to mind.) I don't want to lead anyone astray here. If your crooked picture is Hitler, by all means, straighten it.

 

ode to milkman...

So, I never told you before, but we have a milkman. This guy named Dan comes to our house every Wednesday and leaves 6 glass bottles of cold milk with various colored plastic caps. He picks up 6 empty glass bottles and carts them back to his big white milk truck, all the while the dogs are going berzerk. It's really fun. We call him Dan the Milkman. I've never met him before, actually, because I'm always in my pj's when he comes, but Ben met him once. But I've always liked Dan, just because. I mean come on, he's a milkman. How many milkmen do you think there are in the world? Not too many, I dare say. And he always comes right on time, bearing delicious gifts for hungry cereal eaters and anxious coffee drinkers. I know you'll probably think I'm silly, but having a milkman has been one of the joys of life. To be quite honest, I wish that Dan the Milkman would trade in his big white milk truck for a horse and milk cart like Reb Tevye. Well, this is not meant to be a sad post, but the time has come to say goodbye to Dan the Milkman. Working at Whole Foods means we're going to get 20% off milk, and we won't need home delivery if I can just bring the stuff home. So that's that. But I thought to myself, we can't just let Dan the Milkman slip away without a word or two for posterity. Don't worry, I'm not really going to make a rhyme about Dan. I thought I might at first, just so I could keep this catchy title, but I'm not going to. Would you believe me if I told you I don't even know what he looks like. I just felt that it was too silly to peep through the curtain to catch a glimpse, and I'm usually too busy trying to quiet the dogs, so Dan can do his job in peace. But I'm kind of glad of that really- to just let Dan live in my imagination as a stereotype.

Ps. Believe it or not, I wrote this post before I knew this pic had a horse in the background. I've been wanting to blog about the milkman for a while now, so one day I saw a retro pic of a milkman & saved it without ever having noticed the horse. Everytime I think of that pic, I just see that smily milkman. It's funny to me, because I felt silly for mentioning that bit about the milk cart (even though it is true). But, when I went to retrieve the pic and saw the horse in the background, I just thought that was neat. That happens to me all the time, by the way- where the Lord blesses me in some trifling way that just sounds ridiculous if I try to explain it to someone; so I've sort of given up trying to tell people those things. Sometime, when my post script isn't getting way too long, maybe I'll tell you more (since I know I can trust you), but not now, I really gotta go.

 

go forth to the dances of the merrymakers...

So what is it with the long titles?! Sheesh! When you wake up with catchy tunes from My Fair Lady swimming around in your noggin, you know it's going to be a happy day! Do you ever say really dumb stuff when you really don't need to say anything at all? Or maybe a simple 'good morning' would suffice, but you end up blurting out your whole life story. I have a problem in this area. Too much. Too soon. So, I'm feeling a little nervous about meeting all those new people next week. Normally, if people think you're a weirdo, they just walk away, but what happens when you're tethered together with people in the workplace and they can't leave? Or even worse, what if they are the weirdo! Wait. I retract that last statement. I don't think I'll have a problem with that. Unless they're like scary strange, that's different. I have so much to do today. I don't know what I'm doing sitting around here talking to myself. Am I the only one who has controversial, introspective, reasonings that beg to be delivered up to the public every morning? I don't just think thoughts, they pour out of me like so much helium squealing out of a party balloon, leaving me all deflated and rumpled up on the floor. Get up you flimsy little fribble and frolic for goodness sake! Think lofty thoughts, get some fresh air, and hold your breath as long as you can, then you can dance until dawn with the merrymakers. Speaking of making merry, Emmeli has found a new station on Pandora. She listens to it non-stop, and she has infected us all with her merriment. There's one particular song, which I think is Alvin and the chipmunks singing Old Macdonald in Spanish, very catchy. Honestly, you can not worry about anything when you hear this stuff. She's been uping (now there's a word you won't find in the dictionary; fribble by the way is in the dictionary, if you use the right dictionary) all the classic, vintage Disney scores and really has created something special. People are no longer asking her to turn it off, which is interesting. Every once in a while it brings up a song from movies like Fiddler on the Roof or My Fair Lady, which is why I now have those songs stuck in my head. Okay, we've come full circle now and we're back to happy little ditties. This is where I get off.

Ps. The soundtrack from "The Artist" is lovely for happy mornings. It was introduced to Em by another of her beloved stations- the "Ratatouille" station.

 

it is much like that with me as well...

So, I think I have said it once before, but sometimes I say things twice, just to be sure. In some other cases, I don't say anything at all and just expect you to know what I'm thinking. I understand this can be very frustrating and I apologize. Before I reiterate, though, just let me also apologize in advance for any peculiarities in speech. I recently watched The King and I, and I think, as a result, it has damaged my ability to speak properly. Anyway, I am not so much in the mood for writing this morning. It's this picture which has forced me here. I found it yesterday & I wanted to deposit it here right away.The thing you may remember me having said once before is this: that pictures usually come as an afterthought in this blogging process; hardly ever do I actually have the picture first and then try to fit in the words. I hope this makes clear to you, then, that this particular picture holds, with me, some significance. In fact, I really think the intended sentiment is so glaringly obvious, that words may here actually serve as an impediment to its meaningfulness. If you have ever been to my house early in the morning or sometime after dinner, then you know precisely what it is that I'm not telling you. If you have not had that pleasure, then I can see that this blog shall be terribly annoying for you.

 

ready or not...

It is time for me to find my inner morning person. I got the job at Whole Foods. (That is assuming I pass the criminal check.) I'm really rather excited to get up and go to work every morning! Is that weird?! I'm sure it'll wear off soon enough. So this is the dawn of a new day and somehow it feels like it needs a proper slogan, though I don't know what that would be. There really is something about working outside the home that makes a person feel official. Why is that? I know what it is, actually. It's that we've all been brainwashed. Honestly, I believe that staying home and raising your own children is the way to go. I, for one, am perfectly happy at home. But now that I know I've got a job, what is this feel that has me visualizing myself as some swampy thing resurfacing from the underground? Looking at myself, I find that very backwards and strange. So maybe we are a bit underground, but it's not swampy! Infact, it's more like I'm heading out into the swamp; and I think I'm going to need some muck boots. I'd like to rewire that thought right now. I'm starting to wonder if that whole "a woman's place is in the home" era wasn't enacted as a measure of reverse psychology for women. If we tell woman her place is in the home, maybe she'll want to go to work! Well anyway, I don't know why I'm so gumptiony this morning. And, no, I'm not having second thoughts about the job. I just found it a bit odd that I was having even an inkling of self-worth in regards to heading out into the workplace. (Here is where I insert the definition of inkling so as to be clear and not embarrass myself as a result of mine own undisguised frankness.) {Inkling: a half-light; a glimmer; a misty haze; a dim, faded, almost unrecognizable, infinitesimal speck of a shadow, covered up and resting under a pillow.} Nevertheless, there was an inkling and it caught my attention, so I felt the need to wrestle away his little pillow and shoo him out the window. Come to think of it, maybe all this wrestling is somehow related to feeling guilty about sleeping in. Anyway, it does feel nice to pitch in, and I feel really so very blessed that everything has worked out so perfectly with the hours and whatnot. The whole thing is really quite doable. All I have to do is get up early. It's a small price to pay. And we get to keep the lizards. All in all, I think it's a grand way to do it, if it must be done. In conclusion I'd like to say: though I am looking forward to doing something new (simply because I like mixing things up a bit every now and then), it's important for me to know that you know that I have no aspirations to be a modern woman. And whatever other little inklings there are out there, don't get too comfy, I'm onto you.

 

it was a sad sad day, i must say...

So this is one of those occasions where I'm blogging twice in one morning. For those of you who are new to the blog, it doesn't happen all that often, so not to worry. I just had a thought and I thought I better grab it before it's gone. So, Ben & I go to Chipotle practically every week, practically every week I tell you. Do we get sick of it? No, we do not. I won't tell you which day, I have to keep some things private, you know. I mean geez, this is the internet after all. But one of the guys who works there just announced that it was his last day, because he's moving to New York. How sad is that! I won't tell you how often he gave us coupons for free guacamole and free burritos, because I wouldn't want to get him in trouble. I will tell you that whenever he saw us in line, he always left his cash register duties to go get me some limes from the back, and he always had my water cup ready etc... because he knew I would be asking. We liked talking to that guy about his car troubles and his puppy. Those little 60 second conversations really make a person feel chumly. There is another lady who works there (who Ben likes to call Rosita) and that is meant in the nicest possile way. (I probably shouldn't be posting that on the internet. Someone will take it the wrong way for sure.) We don't know her name, so we have to call her something. We love that lady! And she hasn't been there for quite some time. So Chipotle is changing. They are all new faces there, and none of them knows I want limes from the back. It's really sad. I'm not trying to make you sad just because I am sad. I just needed to remember the good ole days, because this is a part of our history together. (My history with Ben, I mean.) I'm not kidding. We eat there almost every week! And this has been going on for years, I tell you. It's like Cheers, except they don't serve alcohol. How would you feel if you went to watch Cheers and they had an all new cast? I don't think you would like it. I think you'd probably change the channel, wouldn't you? But I guess that's all you can expect from fast food. I mean who wants to make burritos for the rest of their life? I guess we'll just have to keep moving forward, but that doesn't mean we have to like it.

Ps. I felt bad about that one comment so I asked Ben and he said he thinks her name really is Rosita.

 

it's a brand new day...

I had a dream last night that I didn't get the job at Whole Foods. I was at Trader Joe's and they were having a company party when the lady from Whole Foods came over to talk with me. I asked why I didn't get the job and she told me my life was too exciting. ^_^ Then one of the cahiers from Traders asked me to join their company party. What does it mean?! Should I apply to Trader Joe's instead?! I'm so confused. Hehe. For those of you who are wondering, I haven't heard back yet. I was relieved when I woke up to find it was only a dream. I think I will call there today to find out what's going on. I did get a call yesterday from World Market and they want me to come in for an interview. I think I better go just in case.

 

a humble account of smarts and sympathy...

So, there are reasons for which someone might attend to a blog- lots of reasons. Today's reason is acknowledgement. I'd like to acknowledge that having a blog is perfectly logical and reasonable. Aside from all of the memorabilia, there is a record here, a historical account, data. Usually I don't blog about things unless they attach to some emotion, so there's no doubt there are gaps. Not to say that some days I'm not emotional. That's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that if there's a change in the weather, I'll probably not remark on it unless it has somehow ruined my plans, or created an opportunity for me, or shocked me. For instance, today is supposed to be the hottest day of the year. I probably would not have blogged about that had I not already been here. Which brings us around to the question; why am I here, anyway? You may have noticed that I often blog about people, especially if they've happened to have ruined my plans, created an opportunity for me, or shocked me. This post is kind of one of those, but also it's about a big pat on the back for turning ooey gooey feels to practical use. Do you remember about a year ago when I blogged about the baby mice? Well, yesterday the whole scene played out again, ending with a cardboard box of like critters and a phone call to the Friends of Wildlife. It was a fairly decent person that I fell in with there, I must say. I don't know if I mentioned it in my other post (called mice are people too), but there aren't too many "friends of wildlife" who could care less about a box full of little mousy rodents. Last time, after about five phone calls, I happened upon someone who was willing to help me. It just so happened that she knew of a "friend" in training who could use just such an intro into the life of rehabilitation. So it all worked out, but I didn't happen to save her number. So this time it was the same thing all over again, and guess who called me back? Same lady, which was kind of neat. I don't think she really remembered me & she didn't know who she had referred me to before. She thought she might refer me to the same individual, even though by this time she would no longer be a newbie, which was pretty decent I might add. So blah blah blah, I was able to give her the exact date of my phone call by referencing my blog, which led her to the exact date in her rescue journal, which had the exact record of me calling for help, & my name, & the newbie's name etc... etc.. etc.. So that was pretty cool and made me feel so official and handy. But what's even cooler is that this lady, before getting off the phone, was so sweet in considering all that the little baby mice would need for the night, (being that she would not be able to arrange a pick up until the next day). She carefully told me all the things I already knew, and I let her. Then she went over it again in her mind, trying to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. I would not have been very surprised if she had told me to throw in a wee little teddy bear. It was really sweet, especially since these are not exactly reputable members of the society of mammals, but tiny little outcasts. It makes me sad to think of the rough life they have ahead of them. But back to this warm hearted rescue lady, I really think she deserves some recognition, and that is my reason for being here. All in all, it was a win win. She gets to do what she loves, I get to tap tap tap on my little glass keyboard, & the wee little beasties get to scurry and cower and chew. Right now the little cuties are snuggled up next to a toasty rice sock in a cardboard box in the vacant fireplace. It seemed like a nice sheltered place for them to be, and the iron grate adds a pleasant cradle effect. Gotta go, they just started squeaking for their breakfast.

 

a curious miscellany of thought...

I appreciated this good word in my reading today, and so I wanted to share it here. It was in a book by Jean Henri Fabre called The Story Book of Science. I'm quoting, here, the pertinent parts, as he stated this statement inbetwixt and among certain other parts which are not necessarily necessary. He said...

"If man is great through his intelligence, he is still greater through his heart...Knowledge, my little friend, is only a better means of aiding others."

I thought it both sweet and informative, (not unlike this poster that I found). What is he saying anyway? Kind of reminds me of Q-bert. Anyway, it may not be profound, but it helped me to refocus my efforts as a teacher (the quote, not the poster). I think we (people) think a lot about bettering ouselves, but to what end? I've always tried to be careful to remind myself and my kids that their education is not about growing up to get a high paying job. Hopefully other educators are also doing the same; but this bit about 'aiding others' trailing along after 'my little friend' could have a real impact in a world of wee go-getters, (especially when accompanied by this darling visual aid), don't you think? Well, that's enough on that topic, but remember, whether you teach young learners or not, and regardless of how big your brains are, without a heart, you're nothing but a tin man on a lonely brick road with a bunch of strangers in some whacked out dream.

So long as I'm here, I'd also like to report that I just saw a momma turkey and her little poult cross the field out my window. It was a lovely sight and, yes, it was the inspiration for this cute little poster. But I am sad to learn that baby turkeys are called poults, which makes one think of poultry, and ruins the whole effect. As an added bit of trivia, young males are Jakes, and young females are Jennies. I think I'm going to have to learn to tell the difference, just so I can show off that bit of knowledge, (that and Jakes and Jennies are way cuter than poults!) "Hannah, Emmeli, come quick and look at the poultry out my window!" I don't think so.

 

connectedness...

Disclaimer: Upon entering this blog, you may be thinking, awww, what a sweet little blog. But I have to tell you that sometimes pictures are deceiving; and sometimes bloggers ponder things a bit longer than what is necessary for any given subject. Sometimes they get wordy and write longish blogs which noone will wish to read.

I have a little something to say about people groups & the Saggy Baggy Elephant. Are you familiar with this story? There's an elephant named Sooki who is told by a parrot that there's something wrong with him. "What kind of animal are you, anyway?" So the elephant, at first, wants to be like the beautiful, sleek tiger whose skin fits so well. Then he tries to shrink his skin by soaking in water like the crocodile. But in the end, he finds a whole herd of big, brave, friendly elephants & fits right in. K. So now you know the story.

Having said that, I now want to tell you that this post has nothing to do with elephants & has nothing to do with being insecure about the way you look. Have you noticed the great abundance of information that we have swirling around us in this generation? It is likely that you have. And do you realize that your knowledge-set sets you apart even more so than your looks? So when you find someone who knows the things that you know, it really feels like a big deal, especially when you seem to know & like the obscure, overlooked details of the world.

It's like this: you go to get a coffee or buy a necklace at the art fair & someone makes an Emperor's New Groove reference, not expecting that you will notice. You think to yourself, now here's someone I can relate to! You may never speak to this person again, but it's certainly nice to know they're out there. It's reassuring when you happen to find someone like yourself in a great big world full of various people. Sometimes you may be reading a book where the author references some little-known work which it just so happens that you have read, or possibly a small out of the way town that it just so happens you've visited. You know that, had it not been familiar, you would've just skimmed right over that part, but instead, suddenly you feel like you're part of the club. It's not like this little bit O'knowledge makes you some kind of genius. You could have easily traveled the world & read a thousand other books and never got to that one mentioned. But the fact is, you did, & though you are parted by hundreds of years from the soul of this writer, suddenly you feel connected to something.

So, there is much to be said about this topic and there are a great many who say a great deal about it. I am not one of them. I have only a little to say, and we're now coming to the end of it. People are particularly worried about how we will all stay connected with our neighbors in this modern age of online communication. I have to agree that there is reason for concern here for the exact reason that I have mentioned. That is that people want to fit in, and one does not always fit into his/her immediate surroundings. People say, "What kind of animal are you, anyway?" And guess what, now you can Google it!

It's time for me to go now, but comfort yourself with this thought. I think, in this age of technology, people still just want the same things they have always wanted- to find real people who love the way they do, to come into contact with something familiar, especially for communication. If we all end up mute, due to the loss of verbal communication, then, well... I don't know what, but at least we'll have the comfort of knowing that somebody out there gets us.

 

just dumb stuff...

Sometimes I feel like my delicate heartstrings are being pulled in too many directions. This is one reason why I hate Facebook- too many feels! Sometimes, most times, I go to Pinterest where I can get ideas, organize my creative thoughts, etc... I think it's great, but I woudn't really call it a social network. And let's face it, sometimes you need human companionship! I feel this most acutely in the mornings when I'm waiting & waiting for people who are taking too long to come down for school. Occasionally, in times like these, I will log on to Ben's Facebook account (since I don't have one) & I'm usually cured of it for at least a few months for reasons before mentioned. My other little thing to do is to blog, but when I want to connect, blogging is just no substitute. The thing about blogs is that they are so one-sided. Luckily, Ben is coming home early today, and Becky is coming on Thursday, and now the kids are here too. Now we can bury ourselves in books and then maybe I'll take a little fresh air. That'll cure it. The heart of the matter is, I think I'm a little homesick-not for a place, really. I'm not sure what, to be honest, but I feel like the connected piece of me is now, not only unplugged, but lost under a couch somewhere or tossed into the wrong Rubbermaid. I don't think I want to be this disconnected, but the here & now is more often than not, plenty to take in. Well anyway, I told you it was dumb, I just needed to pass the time.

 

my boots became lighter & all is sunny & warm...

I know that yesterday was the first day of summer, but I have, here, a story that takes place on a blustery day in March, 2006. Well, it's not much of a story, really, as it's not being told by a storyteller. It's more of a sequence of events or an account. Emmeli was almost 2 years old at the time, so this was a long time ago, but I actually still remember it quite often. My memory loves those soft, little mittens and that sweet, sure voice. You'll see what I mean. I've thought about blogging this before, but each time I think, surely I've already blogged about that, & I better check to see if it's already here somewhere on the blog. Then I think, it doesn't matter, I'll just blog it again. Then for whatever reason, I just don't, unless I really have already blogged it, in which case it is now here 'who knows' how many times. Either way, I found this in an old journal I had from before I ever knew anything about blogs, and here it is as I wrote it in 2006 word-for-word.

(March 2, 2006) Today we took off Emmeli's baby bracelet. It was beginning to get too tight. *frowns* Last week we were up at Aunt Becky & Uncle Daniel's house. We had lots of fun playing with Iain, Claire, & Fiona. We played outside on the snow "mountain" built up by the snow plow. We also went sledding at Kiwanis on the new sleds that Grandpa made. That was lots of fun. The sleds made it all the way to the bottom of the hill, even though the snow was like powder. Hannah & Emmeli & I headed home a little early, because Hannah's little cheeks were getting blistered by the cold. Hannah rode back to Grandma & Grandpa's in Aunt Becky's car, while I walked back, carrying Emmeli. It was cold and windy and I was already a little tired from sledding. There was a steep driveway that I had to hike up to get back, and I think I must have been huffing & puffing a little. I was holding Emmeli in front with her little legs wrapped around my waist. I had her snuggled in tight to try to shield her from the wind & cold, though the wind was not so bad here because of the trees. Also, I think she was leaning back a little to compensate for my leaning forward as I walked up the hill. As we made our ascent, Emmeli took her soft, little mittens and held on tightly to my face. She looked me in the eyes and said, "I gotchoo." It was so sweet. And she was serious too. She held on firmly to my cheeks all the way up the hill. It turned out that we must have noticed the blisters on Hannah's cheeks right away, because they cleared right up when we all got in out of the snow. Snow & Daniel came home soon after we got there, along with Grandpa, Dad, Iain, & Claire. Grandma & Fiona had ridden back in the car with Aunt Becky & Hannah.

So, it's really sweet to have this paper memory of a trip up north, & cousins, & sledding, & grandpa's who make things, but the part which I have written down so many times in my mind is this... It's the scene in which I am toting something well worth the effort, but quite heavy nonetheless, uphill, in the snow. It doesn't have to be snowing outside to understand this concept. Sometimes, no matter what the weather, life gives us heavy boots. To this day, this same little person wants to get at me, square in the face, eye to eye, & deliver some sweet word of encouragement. I have lots of little cheermongers about, but due to this particular incident, with this one, I think I'll always feel baby mittens & hear "I gotchoo, Mommy."

 

now is a thing which you cannot repeat...

This is something like the start of a poem, which i may never write, but still it's all i've got:

 

Yesterday i wanted to write a poem, about you & me,

But i had not the strength nor the heart to move

It was too lovely & i too weak, as we rested there

And now i've forgotten the words

We were on the bed, it was not made

And the room was still messy

With the ironing board still out & unfolded laundry

But you & i, we rested there, in front of the fan, numbing our ears

with the still, steady, slow rise and fall of our comingled, undisturbed breathing

at last you slept lightly, with your knees tucked into the crook of mine

And i had not a care in the world, but a tearing at my heart

To wrestle away & pin down those carefree words

The ones which were shuffling around, trying to assemble

They were looking for the right combination, or forming a shape

Something like a feather to keep in my pocket

But i could not do it, I could not get away from you there with me

And anyway, i know cause i've tried, but a feather is never a key

 

then she realized that gum parkers are super gross...

Did you ever have a gum parker when you were a kid? Grossest thing ever invented, but I had one, & I used to park my gum there. In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, a gum parker is a little ceramic dish used for holding your abc gum, temporarily, while you eat dinner or take a nap. Then when you are done, you just unpark it and put the vile wad back into your mouth. (ABC stands for Already Been Chewed, btw.) That's really embarrassing. I can't believe I'm telling you this. Really, I'm just sort of grasping at straws, because what you don't know is that I have written a blog every day for the past three days at least, but none of them have been posted. I'm in a rut as they say, and can't seem to break out. Sometimes when I don't blog for awhile, it's because I'm just too busy, or I get out of the habit, or I have nothing to say. Currently, that is not the case. I have so much to say that the blogs are backing up in my brain. It's quite painful. In attempt to relieve some of the pressure, I've even taken to jotting down a list of future titles. Yesterday, I even helped Emmeli go through her sketchbook and come up with a title for every drawing, just because. Aside from snappy new titles, however, I just can't seem to spit it out, which brings me back to the abc gum. That's actually what reminded me of the gum parker. Most of these unpublished blogs are saved, and after already having chewed them to bits, sometimes I wake up the next day, still thinking about what I wrote the day before, and I go back to chewing and re-chewing. So, I'm sure if I were to ever publish them, finally, they'd be so void of flavor that you'd just be like, um... no thanks, I have my own gum. So, enough about that. Sorry to gross you out. Oh, but one more thing, I think I might have a bit of stagefright. I think that's what the problem is. I recently invited three new friends to my blog and I think I'm feeling a little insecure about that, but not to worry, I have a plan. Just a few more completely humiliating blogs like this one and I'll be sufficiently embarrassed not to care anymore.

 

placid gratifications...

Here I go. I'm going to exit this world of pretty pictures, poignant punning, & punctilious punctuation. I'm going to tend my lettuce and pick some daisies and recycle some weeds. It has been said that he who clears a field renders a better service to mankind than all the scribblers in Europe.* I don't know if I fully agree with that statement, but for now, I think I will just go along.

*It was Voltaire who said that; it just sounded weird & nerdy to throw that in at the end of the sentence. I debated leaving out the reference, but I couldn't do it, so I'm telling you now.

 

handpicked, just for you...

Here is a poem Hannah wrote a couple of years ago. Enjoy.

Achoo, Achoo the spoon

How sweet you are, the tea sets swoon

They smile & sigh with no ill eye

Until the kettle cries, up so high

On the stove, singing and shouting,

"Here comes the maid! to make her mistress some tea!"

The kettle jumps with glee

So do the tea sets, Achoo the spoon, and the saucer

 

a fond farewell...

Once upon a time there was a blog about the misadventures of a family bike trip to the park. It was a bit of a train wreck. It had some lovely elements and beautiful memories of laughter and jollity, but it's gone now. (May it rest in peace.) As a note to self, just remember... the sweetness of Emmeli riding her little heart out with a backpack full of ice water and pickles, and a tiny green inchworm named Enchilada. I should go lest I ruin it again.

 

little bird...

I know this is such a simple everyday ordinary thing, but it inspired me. So sometimes there are things that inspire us to see things differently, or to act differently, etc... But sometimes, I just get inspired to no particular end. So maybe inspired isn't the word I'm looking for. Anyway, what happened was this... Ben & I went out for coffee. We're pinching our pennies right now, but regardless, Ben wanted to go out with me to my favorite spot, so we scrounged up some change and we went. (For those of you who have seen the picture, this was the same day that I got the photo of him kneeling down next to the baby bird who was begging for crumbs on the corner downtown. It was apparently a very bad, invasive species type, but we decided not to squish it. It's a sweet picture.) So, of course, before getting coffee we had to stop at the recycle center to spend some of the money that we don't have. It's on the way. And it was there from whence the so-called inspiration came. I feel a little silly for mentioning it now that we come to the point. It really is no big deal, but isn't it funny that I'm still thinking about it a week later. We met a busy lady there, pilfering through old belongings as we were, looking for some treasure. She was busy, but in a care-free sort of way, busy, because why else would you be at the recycle center, but perfectly content to leave with nothing. What was special was that she was having such a lovely time telling us all about her most treasured finds and her favorite spots around town for finding such things. In short, she divulged all her secrets willingly, a sort of hoarder without the greediness. As I said, she left without buying any junk and said goodby to the cashier, who she knew by name. We saw her again outside and it turned out that she was the wife of Ben's boss's boss's boss or something. I'm sure we'll see her again someday since we'll be visiting all the spots she recommended. I look forward to it. Why would I mention such a seemingly meaningless encounter? It's certainly not because we met the big wife of a bigwig, certainly not! I abhor such things! It's for no other reason than mentioning the little bird, but when the bigwig is the little bird, it makes it all the more muchy.

 

i'm keeping them all...

I need to write something. I have no time. But this writing thing is healing to my soul. Just one quiet moment with me and the brain and I will think of something. Or if I don't think, that is okay too. The words just land on the paper. If they were brave little words, they would fly away in an instant, but they're not. They're shy. So they will come to me again for approval, and I'll encourage them along, or shelter them. Either way, with much deliberation, we will at some point come to a conclusion, and the final result will be that they are not birds, they are words. So they shall be stamped onto the paper. And there they shall stay. Embedded. Embossed. To be imbibed. Let them soar, let them sing, but let them stay. I told you I was greedy.

 

Easter egg...

Wish i would have thought of this on Mother's Day. That would've been brilliant! But i didn't. I thought of it just now, when it wasn't even Mother's Day, and i think that makes it even more special. I love you, Mom; i know you probably won't read this until like three months from now, (because you never check your email), but that's just fine.

Easter egg (noun)

1. a colored hard-boiled egg used to celebrate Easter

2. an intentional hidden message, or feature in a work such as a computer program, video game, movie, book, or crossword. The term was coined at Atari by personnel who were alerted to the presence of a secret message which had been hidden by game designer Warren Robinett in his already widely distributed game, Adventure. The name has been said to evoke the idea of a traditional Easter egg hunt. What fun!