FlipperandMe

Back.

2010-05-24T15:41:00.000-07:00

So. Flipper's birthday party was yesterday afternoon. Except I can't really call her Flipper anymore; it conjures too many negative images of some poor Thalidomide baby. And she's not a baby anymore. But I digress. The party, it was a total success. And the party, it will never happen again. In my house, that is.My tolerance level for noise is sadly and shockingly low. REALLY low. As in, my best friend calls my house "The Tomb." Bottom line: I hate noise. And, yes, as long as I am the grown-up, it will be all about me. But back to the party!!!! There were 8 kids here!! Did everyone ready that??? 8!!!! (insert "never again" right here). But they were great. Just silly and loud and joyful and loud. Too loud for the Mistress of the Crypt. Or Tomb. Or whatever, as long as it is quiet. I did one thing majorly majorly right: I hired one of my precious, awesome, incredible high school students to work the party. She earned her forty bucks, let me tell you. The kids were thrilled to be in the presence of a real, live, honest-to-God teen-ager complete with scanty tank top and make up, and I was thrilled to have her (someone that actually enjoys the chaos 8 kids can bring) direct their arts-and-crafts projects, dispense cake and lemonade, and help me clean up. I HIGHLY recommend this tactic. Even if her mother thought I overpaid her. But, in a tit-for-tat kind of way, the one thing I did majorly majorly wrong was squelch my initial impulse to have the party somewhere else. Somewhere that all I had to do was show up, with a check in one hand and a camera in the other. I toyed with the idea of a horseback riding party, was dissuaded by the price, and then ended up kicking myself (metaphorically) for not doing it: I spent as much as the horses would have cost all by myself. It is oh so easy to do. Sadly.
But, never again. One kid next year (besides mine) someplace special. Or 8...at a barn. The best part (for the adults) was watching her pull a bright, cherry-red satin sheet (fitted) that shrouded one of those cool clear boxes with the colored oils in it. Kind of a low-tech Lava Lamp. But the sheet...the room fell silent (thank God!) and I just loved it. Loved that he wanted to give it to her, and his parents let him. The sheet will be repurposed to make sleeping bags for Kaya and Julie, the most ridiculously overpriced and best dressed dolls ever. And now with the fanciest sleeping bags ever. My friend Dawn, however, gave Ella her most favorite present ever: a wig. Dawn has three, purchased months ago, before her hair came off. Mine too, but that's a different story. Ella fell completely in love with the wigs especially a hot little number called "Ginger." Every time we visited her, Ella would put her wigs on, then stroke them, trying on one after another. The word "love" just isn't strong enough. But now she has a Ginger of her own. It sleeps on our bedpost. It is scary. And she is very, very happy.

Agony. Worse than yoga!!

2009-08-20T14:34:00.000-07:00

Inspired by a "friend" (really, a torture-promoter) I went on what will hopefully be a diet modification for me in the form of a non-fasting cleanse. What does that mean? It means no caffeine, sugar, wheat, dairy. At all. I thought it wouldn't be that bad, that I wasn't really hooked on anything, especially not those 2-3 pesky cups of coffee in the morning. All my life I have managed to skate by any kind of real addiction, regardless of an unhealthy love of illegal substances, and I stopped smoking by throwing a pack of Camel Lights out of my car and never missed it. But this has been, well, truly awful. Hideous. Splitting headaches, cold, icky sweats, a desire to curl up and be by myself where my moans of agony won't give the six year-old bad dreams, or cause the dogs to worriedly nudge me with their wet cold noses over and over again. Or, barring that, just to be sedated (heavily) like people in Hazeldon are while they detox. Granted, they are serious junkies, but judging from my week '0 hell, I am too. What has been the most interesting is that what I crave is NOT sugar (even though I know that a cold Coke would cause all of my symptoms to vanish) but spicy, hot stuff. The very memory of how coffee tastes is utterly repellant to me now. I have gone wheat-free in the past, in an attempt to vanquish migraines, (didn't work), I quit coffee immediately when I found out that the mold on our shower curtain was NOT what was making me throw up every day, but a 12 week old fetus, and I was fine. FINE. I was a vegan for about 9 months when I first moved to Telluride but simply could not go without cheese, and all of these episodes were easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy as Ella would say. But for some reason the combination of ALL sinful substances has brought me to my knees. I cannot remember feeling this bad for this many days in a row since I was knocked up. I never missed a single day of work last year for being sick! So. We'll see. I've no doubt I can go without the coffee, and seriously slash my sugar intake, but a nice piece of toast in the morning as opposed to my soy milk and rice powder shake? Maybe not.

Back, and pinker than ever

2009-07-31T06:35:00.000-07:00

Back. With no real reasons/excuses/apologies besides a lack of consistent Internet and a lack of time/desire/will. Right now I am on a home-improvement kick. It is incredibly satisfying AND fun!! Most of the goals on my house to-do list have gotten a line drawn through them this summer, and only two more major projects are left: removing the kitchen wallpaper, painting the kitchen, and installing hardware on the flat-front cabinets. The cabinets are, like everything else, original to the townhouse, meaning circa 1978. And while I would like some glass-fronted ones, they are in incredible shape and I am loathe to tear out anything that is in perfect working order. So. House painted. CHECK. New fridge, aka "The Boyfriend." CHECK. Ella's room. CHECK. Under-stairs storage and tool shed storage organized and thinned. CHECK. Ella's room now looks like something out of a house not owned by me. It is girly and pretty and pink and girly and coordinated...and so we shall take a look.

This is so far from my room as a kid that I can't believe it. Pink walls, psychotically expensive Pottery Barn duvet cover and shams...Ella was not particularly excited about the bedding, as her little heart's desire was leaning towards the quilt appliqued with cupcakes and kittens but I just. Could. Not. Do. It.

18-dollar Ikea "chandelier." Slightly off-kilter but has been righted since installation. I love this thing. Love it.

Close-up of Liberty print duvet and shams. The adorable sheets were made by me: rick rack sewn to plain white Target sheets. The next day I scored some heavy white cotton curtains at the thrift store, and they will also have the pink rick rack sewn on. Then I will turn my attentions to my room.

All of this has been done for more than one reason, but the primary one is that it is now time for her to learn to sleep without her body pressed against someone else, namely me. I love it and hate it at the same time. I could wait, but every year she seems LESS inclined to move out, and there are things I want her to be able to do, namely spend the night at a friend's house and go to camp for a few weeks in another year to two. I have been letting her fall asleep on her own, with just that massive stuffed penguin for company for two nights now, and she is fine. One step at a time...

Make it stop

2009-05-12T16:27:00.000-07:00

Well, I can't tell a lie (actually, I can, but that would be a whole 'nother post). I used to think, in my more horrifyingly judgemental pre-and just-post baby days, that people that rented out birthday parties for their kids were lame. I mean, how could you NOT want to have your house invaded, do a fuckload of work for the human you love more than anything else-bearing in mind that the same human is incapable of thanking you for another 22 years or so, buy food that will either garner complaints OR not get eaten and thrown away (possibly both) and slave over a cake that, in all reality will NOT taste better than the ones at Sugarland...and so on. And on. Why would you just want to show up at your own offspring's party location, do a little delegating, write a check and...leave.
Now, with the countdown to Flipper's party a mere 5 days away (a fact she reminds of every 6.7 seconds or so) I have seen the light. I am promising the world NEVER AGAIN. I will BUY Spence's Farm, I will pay the high school girls to throw the party and supervise, I will do anything to avoid the Party Store one more time. I cannot bear the stress. How on earth do people get married? My inner control-freak, always hovering just below the surface, leaps forth every May when her birthday rolls around. My desire to avoid the whole thing is only marginally outpaced by the guilt that accompanies it: why can't I love it as much as she does? Why am I not "in the moment" with her as she selects hideous paper plates; why do I contemplate ways to return them and get ones I like? Since the plates are so important and all. Fucking paper plates. For a party that isn't even mine!! Why am I such a lame mother, ready for the day to pass, worried about food and games and whether or not she will be able to make it through without sobbing hysterically over some sort of teeny tiny mostly imagined slight from a friend? My checklist is massive; only a few things have been checked off. I am worried about all of, surely there is a better way. And we only invited 4 kids!!! My hat is OFF to the parents that invite 20 or so; how can they? Now I must stop for I am driving even myself completely insane. Please, please let it be sunny. Please, no rain. I beg of whatever deity has thrown down such awful weather this spring to hold off on Sunday. If I could find a reverse Hatfield, I would. I really would.

To Buy or Not to Buy

2009-04-27T07:08:00.000-07:00

Flipper is thwarting my birthday plans for her by not wanting what I want to give her for her birthday. That might just be the most poorly-formulated sentence I have ever written. She really really wants a "grown up" American Girl Doll. Basically, that means a doll with hair. Lots of hair. Flipper is obsessed with hair. I am actually OK with the American Girl Doll marketing and money-sucking juggernaut; the dolls don't look like sluts, nor do they have the artificial bodies of a stripper, with no ass and huge tits. And since I have no intention of wasting precious tourist-hours on some sort of store that has honest-to-god adults pretending that the dolls are real, I think I am relatively safe. HOWEVER...
Flipper is not complying. By this I mean she is not embracing the doll and historical time period that I want her to. I WANT THE COLONIAL DOLL!!!! Who cares what she wants??? Perhaps I should care a bit more than I actually do. She even went so far as to request a doll that looks like her. I cannot bear the Mini-Me dolls. Plus, the clothes are tacky. And they lack some sort of peaches-and-cream, sunshine-and-rainbows "historical" context that suckers parents like me into plunking down some big bucks in the hopes that my child will learn more than how to be a hairdresser. And so, I am torn: buy her what she truly wants, buy her what I want her to have, (knowing full well how incredibly lame that is), or try to find some sort of "compromise." Like I said...I am torn. Maybe the prairie-girl. Maybe a Mini-Me doll with historical clothes. Maybe I should just stop mind-fucking this to death and buy something already.

A boring but good day

2009-04-13T16:41:00.000-07:00

Sick headache notwithstanding, today was a good day. Except for the weather. It is simply impossible for there to be more than 48 hours of nice weather in a row this spring. After work Grampy and I went to a small restaurant in downtown Durham called "Toast" (it specializes in panini, crostini, etc., en route to the library. I had an EXCELLENT panini: chopped, cooked kale, ricotta salata, and pickled hot and sweet peppers. I've never thought of putting greens like kale, collards, etc., on a sandwich, but it was incredible. Also a nice side salad with a touch of fresh mint in the light vinaigrette dressing. Then on to the library where I checked out 9 books in under 15 minutes. Grampy got two. Home with yucky headache; dozed off and on for a few hours while Ella was a perfect angel; she played in her room quietly, brought me homemade "get well" cards every few minutes...she was great. I rousted myself at 5:15 and took a boiling hot bath with a new book and then we had supper, a good one for a chilly, grey day: homemade macaroni and cheese (mine is very, very good-flavored with modesty), roasted asparagus, and fake ribs. We call them "riblets." Ella is getting a bit more aware of how much she loves to eat meat, and that it is all a dead animal. Driving past Allen and Son the other day she commented on just how good meat tasted...and how sad it is that it is dead. Slowly, slowly creeps vegetarianism towards her...we'll see.
Nothing, but nothing makes me happier than a huge stack of library books to burn through.

Yay, Big Chain Store!

2009-04-11T04:33:00.000-07:00

I have to give a little shout-out to CVS, our local pharmacy (yes, yes, I know it is a big chain) for their stellar array of Easter candy!! I was denied at Harris Teeter, which had only large bags of candy, much more than one child could consume, and the chocolate bunny was about a foot tall and cost 10 bucks. But they had a few cute things, and then I went next door. I actually successfully avoided Southern Season, which I adore for their incredible display of candy, but last year I spent 30 bucks on Easter goods, because I found them so hard to resist!!! I was determined to stay very close to home. Plus, I am trying to eke out 12 days of driving on one tank of gas. Sister called from Colorado; she had been candy-shopping for her boyfriend's children as well. We compared sugar-notes. It is hard to stop, to not go nutty over the vast array of things available to buy. It is hard to resist the siren's call of cool things, cleverly packaged. It is a constant astonishment to me how very successful advertising is at stoking our "desire" boilers. Ella has our childhood baskets, which were undoubtedly typical of the early 70's, and yet they look positively puny next to the massive baskets kids have today. The beauty of the small, however, is that it cannot be filled with too much, and so I stopped after the blue chocolate "robin's eggs", the much-coveted chocolate bunny (many inches less than 12) and my favorite purchase: tiny "cartons" with speckled egg-shaped pieces of gum. It is sunny after an evening of rain; I can count on one hand how many times I actually WANT it to rain, but I did yesterday. The storms did what I hoped they would: washed the pollen away for a few days. It is clean and clear outside, and we will spend much of our day OUT IN IT.

Spring Break. Cold and Icky.

2009-04-07T03:45:00.000-07:00

It is Spring Break. Except that it is not spring; it is chilly and cloudy and yuck. I think our tentative camping plans are off the table, especially considering that Grampy and Smokey are going sailing on Thursday, which negates any potential dog-sitting. So we will stay here, and I will try to find things for Ella to do, and people for her to play with. Ever a tiring task. I wish we were off somewhere, but we're not.
Ella's break, however, is more fun than mine. She is spending half of every day with the grandparents, which means endless attention, little projects, and today, the fulfillment of a minor dream: tennis lessons!! She cannot wait. How fun it is to see what grabs her interest, what she wants to pursue. She already has a little racket, and smacks the ball on a string that hangs in my parents' garage. It is hung so it rests against my dad's windshield when he pulls in, telling him to stop. The rest of us use our eyes for this task. Anyway, she can bang it for hours, counting how many she can get in a row. I think her record is somewhere in the 40's. So today at 11 she has a private lesson with the tennis pro at my parents' club. Last night-this was adorable-she set out her clothes, ready for action. 2 years ago she would have been too shy to take a lesson with a stranger; now, she can't wait.
My parents, players both, signed Sister and myself up for lessons, and we lasted for exactly one. It was summer. At our club, and the pool, coolly shimmering, only 50 yards away. But now I kind of wish I had learned. It seems like fun exercise.

Here comes...real grass.

2009-04-05T15:26:00.000-07:00

I must confess that I am feeling pretty fucking smug right now, over something so pathetically minor that it is almost embarrassing to relate: our homegrown Easter basket grass WORKED!! It was a success!! No hideous crunchy plastic "grass"!! Below, the evidence:

So cute!!! This is 7 days of growth. The basket is mine from 1973, according to what is written on the bottom. Sister's, by virtue of having more pink in it, has become the activity basket, able to leave for field trips, such as the one we took to an Easter Egg party in our old neighborhood today. It was highly successful, as shown by the victor below:

She also adhered to the "three pieces" rule of candy consumption with nary a whiny complaint to be heard, thank god. Each egg in her basket (she crushed the other kids) held a few pieces of candy, which made for quite a haul.
Once home, we walked the damn dogs and then Ella achieved another teeny tiny milestone, one noted only by me: she took a shower, not a bath, by herself, washing her hair, scrubbing her toes, etc. A new era, really.

Tomorrow is my birthday, and for the first time in my whole life I have nothing planned; indeed, it feels like nothingness. But, for some reason, I don't mind that no one seems to remember or care about it save family, and I will do nothing but go to work and come home. No cake, no dinner out with friends, no nothing. I have read that you truly become an adult when your parents die, when you have a child of your own. But I think it is when you no longer care about your birthday.

Sun. Finally.

2009-04-04T04:46:00.000-07:00

Finally, finally, the sun is out. After ANOTHER week of blowsy, grey, rainy weather, the skies finally cleared early yesterday morning and it became sparkly and blue and very breezy. After a rather trying week at work I had the whole afternoon free. It started with a lunch at Sandwhich, a place I adore. Grampy had never been, even though at heart is a Chapel Hill-Carrboro person (even though he won't admit it) and I was eager for him to try it out. He got the sardine sandwich, Ella got the comte grilled cheese with housemade harissa ketchup, and I had the goat cheese BLT, instead of the outrageous BLT, which is what I usually get. Ella loved the ketchup, which had a nice kick to it, but wasn't frightfully hot, but she liked Grampy's sardine sandwich even more. One of the two owners enjoyed her rather expanded palate, and told us that her 6 year-old likes sandwiches of fruit leather on a roll. My shock and horror was tempered by he creative mind that decided to create this in the first place!! It also reminded me that I want to make my own fruit leather one of these days. How I want to make everything like instead of buying it, and yet how very lazy I am, how very UN-Little House on the Prairie I really am when it comes right down to actually doing the work. But maybe I'll change my ways. I have houseguests, which I normally get maybe once or twice a year, and I cannot tell you how glad I am to have a sunny day in which to frolic about the Triangle.

Drinking

2009-04-01T15:34:00.000-07:00

We are walking in the graveyard.
It is raining.
She has her face about .5 inches from the ground.
Here is why: "I like to lick the raindrops off the clover."
I keep walking.

Walk

2009-03-26T16:22:00.000-07:00

Today on our walk we saw a dead raccoon. I do not have any idea what killed it, maybe rabies. BUT...on it were several huge turkey vultures. The dogs went absolutely insane, chasing the birds away, barking like mad, Sophie the gentle Doberman with all of her hackles up racing to and fro, barking at the sky...it was wonderful. Ella and I laughed a long, long time. I used to fear that her sense of humor would stay stuck at Knock Knock jokes (which she still cannot comprehend) but now I know she will be just fine. Just a little demented like Sister and myself.

Spring is coming, even though it is still cold!!

2009-03-23T03:28:00.000-07:00

Flipper and I are going to do a cute little Easter-Springtime project; we are going to grow real grass in her Easter basket in preparation for the Bunny's largess instead of that frightful, crunchy green strands of plastic. I saw this on a blog I read regularly last spring, and have been waiting to give it a shot. We have purchased the wheatgrass seed packets, and gathered some potting soil. Yesterday Flipper delved into our storage area under the stairs and unearthed our Easter box. Her basket is my sister's old one, mine is in there too. They are 38 years old!!!! She also discovered a bunch of plastic eggs, and in one she found perfectly good Play-Doh, and in another, 3 foil-wrapped chocolate eggs. They'll be for dessert tonight, I think. I will take pictures as we go along. From her school I have learned to value of doing things slowly, step by step by step, and having children wait in between each one. Today we will line the baskets with plastic, this week-end we will fill them with soil, a few days after that we will add the seeds, and so on. Maddening, is it not? So different from my own inclination to do everything at once, as fast as possible. Good for both of us. I just hope it works!!!! I will take pictures of the ancient baskets and our project as we go along.
This week-end was a good one; one of the teachers at the school and I mentioned to each other how we needed something good to happen. There was a dance on Saturday night, of which I was a chaperon. Shocking, really. I was so impressed with how well ALL the students dressed, boys included!! Suits, ties, nice vests-nary a pair of jeans in the whole throng. The girls, of course, couldn't wait to dress up. They all looked wonderful. They were all good, (as far as I know!) and hopefully had a good time. I saw a few random acts of kindness, and it did a lot to give me something good right now.

Back.

2009-03-20T03:41:00.000-07:00

My wanderlust is insatiable lately, the trip to Florida merely whetting the desire to travel endlessly rather than putting it to rest for a time. My fantasy: tons of money, with which I would first take Ella out of school, and we would literally travel around the world, every continent, many countries, chasing the sun as so to stay warm for much of the year we would be gone. Then, upon return, we would purchase a small Airstream trailer and spend every summer and school break traveling throughout North America; I want to return to Baja California and make it all the way down to Cabo san Lucas (I've been halfway) and take the Al-Can Highway up to Alaska. I used to think I was a homebody... but I'm not. Thank god Ella loves travel as much as I do.
Now I am trying to gauge how much it would cost for us to camp on the Outer Banks during part of her upcoming spring break. The Banks have multiple campgrounds, some run by the National Park Service, and some privately owned. The Park Service ones are more "us"-fewer RV's, no pools, game rooms, etc. But they offer only cold showers, and I want to take at least one hot shower during a 3-4 day stay. And...no electricity. Which means I must find another way to make coffee in the morning. Shockingly, for a NC native, I have never been to the Outer Banks. So I have never seen the lighthouse, or the Wright Museum, etc. At least gas is a decent price right now! My other fear is cold: it will be either brutally windy and frigid, or warm and bug-free. I wish I already had a tiny RV, it would make this decision a lot easier! One of the things I love about Ella the most is her sheer toughness, her ability to suck it up and deal with being cold and uncomfortable with minimal whining. So we'll see. It is on my radar right now. The secret of life? Always have something to look forward to.

Down South

2009-02-18T04:42:00.000-08:00

We are on our trip, currently sitting in a hotel in Waycross, GA, aka "the middle of nowhere." Yesterday's flights went off without a hitch, we arrived early to both Charlotte and Jacksonville, and flew in on THIS PLANE.

The plane of winners, apparently. Perhaps that was why it was so fast. We flew over the coast of Georgia, and I bribed Flipper with three Gummi Bears to let me sit by the window so I could look down at coastal flats and islands and serpentine rivers. Then we flew over St Simons, and I recognized The King and Prince and the pier, then over Jekyll, which is surprisingly undeveloped still; long empty beaches. Then Cumberland, one of the most amazing places ever-largely untouched, a National Seashore. Could not see any horses from the air, but I know they are there, the herds of wild horses. Once I saw a whole herd of them running through the surf on the deserted beach, and rolling in the sand. Amazing. Dinner on the island, so fun with Whitney's girls and Whitney herself. Unlike myself as a kid, Flipper has an amazing ability to make friends with just about any kid she comes in contact with. I think it is an only-child thing.

Flipper and Avery at dinner.

Some of the island has changed, things look a touch more upscale, but much of it is the same. Same houses, same massive live oaks dripping Spanish moss, same hotels. Same people. It is supposed to be clear today, so hopefully the grey will recede, and we will head out to the swamp soon. Home of Pogo, for anyone old out there reading this. And to Florida tonight. I could do this forever.

A Touch of Spring...

2009-02-01T08:43:00.000-08:00

Today feels springlike (almost) and so all the windows are open, the heat is off, and the house is airing out, something I think is crucial to health and well-being. I think it is what keeps Flipper and me from getting colds, sore throats, etc. In an unexpected burst of organizational desire (don't worry, it passed) I rearranged and organized the pantry, a not-too-onerous task, but guilt-inducing just the same. I keep buying food, only to discover, weeks later, that I had sun dried tomatoes, or capers, or peanut butter, or something like that all along. It is maddening. I am trying to get a better handle on meal preparation at night; when I do cook it is healthy and good, but too often I make the same things over and over again. Lame. And I am trying to make something and eat off of it all week long, also not easy for me to do. And so, below, a before-and-after:

BEFORE: a hideous, jumbled mess.

AFTER: organized and a touch more visually appealing. Spring cleaning 2 months early!!

Sweets to the sweet.

2009-01-27T11:47:00.000-08:00

I forgot to mention this when it happened, and want to put it down before I forget it. I was a t Jessica's a few weeks ago, and we were doing what we do best, which is gossiping about celebrities, making fun of silly baby names, and watching trash TV. This time we were fortunate enough to catch a BACK-TO-BACK episode of some Food Network show about how candy is made.
I think I can single-handedly solve America's addiction to candy: make people watch how it is made. I think the same thing about eating less meat: hang out in an abattoir for an hour or so and then try to choke down a hamburger. ANYWAY, the candy-making was frightful. Gross. Icky. The very words the owner/managers used to describe their "product" were gross. And icky. "Peanut butter plugs." "Special dyes and emulsifiers." And, our personal favorite, SLURRY. Fucking slurry!!! From the Jelly Belly folks. What the hell??? The machines used to MAKE the candy were gross. All in all, we wound down the hour knowing full well we would not only be unable to stomach another jelly bean, but that the word "slurry" would forever cause us hysterical laughter and a gag-reflex reaction.
If yo uever get a chance to watch this show, (I think it is called "Unwrapped") please do so. It is the most beautiful blend of fascinating/horrifying.

War and my living thing

2009-01-26T07:26:00.000-08:00

This is my 300th post on this blog. I find that terrifyingly narcissistic, but not terrifying enough for me to quit. Yesterday was my mother's 66th birthday, and we celebrated by going to the Weathervane (the restaurant inside Southern Season) for brunch. Let me say now how much I love the Weathervane: great food, great service, and what is BY FAR the best children's menu around. Flipper and I went to Wellspring on the way there and I let Flipper pick out a bouquet for Smokey. She homed in on roses, a mixture of about 6 different colors. They were gorgeous.
Blessedly, her friend E came over for a playdate, and I say blessedly because Saturday was a day of excruciating boredom for both of us. I should try harder to plan out fun activities to do on the week-ends, just one or two. Anything to get out of the house and be around people besides ourselves for a few hours. But I didn't, and she was bored, and turned into a frightful, unhappy brat until we FINALLY went to bed. But Sunday was wonderful, and as so often happens, I eavesdropped on her play with her friend, and thought about how quickly our ideals crumble when reality sets in . What did they play? WAR. Guns, made out of blocks and these plastic Lego-like buildy things. But as I listened, they weren't really shooting each other and falling over dead, or hiding behind some furniture fort. No, they were TALKING about it. Around and around and around.
"Let's play war"
"OK!"
"Here's your gun."
"No, I want the red one."
"It's already mine."
"Who gets to be the bad guy?"
"You."
"No, you."
"No, you."
"Now you shoot me."
"OK"
"Let's play war..."
Someone should send these kids to the Middle East; any adult conflict would die a rapid death simply by dint of exhaustion from repetitive conversation. It was excruciating. But I was surprised at how uncaring I was with their gun-and-sword play. Back in the Perfect Parenting days, you know, back before I actually HAD a baby, I would have not been OK with anything that smacked of guns and violence. Now, well, I think it's OK. It is their imagination. They are clueless, particularly my child that lives a blissful life unaware of the horrors brought into our homes via the television and the endless new coverage any tragedy receives. I don't know that I believe that playing with a gun made out of a Kapla block is going to desensitize her to murder. I will say that I will never let her play video games, particularly ones that involve the endless destruction of something else, and so this play she's engaging in will probably die a natural death like everything else in childhood. I try very hard not to think everything to death, and even though it is an uphill battle at times, I seem to be winning on this front, even though I go back and forth, changing previously-held beliefs with nary a backward glance, and holding tightly to others. This is one of the hidden blessings of (largely) single parenting: unlike Flipper and her friend, I don't have to talk about whether or not it is or is not OK for the kids to play war. Not that they're really playing war, they're really playing diplomacy.

Upcoming

2009-01-24T07:01:00.000-08:00

Let's talk about my upcoming trip, shall we? Because I can't wait. I graduated college in 1990, with no job, no goals, no direction, no...nothing. No surprise. I cashed in some DuPont stock inherited from my grandfather, and bought my dream car, the first car I ever owned. A 1987 Isuzu Trooper, a car that saw me across America and back, to and from many Grateful Dead shows, and almost over 1000 ft drop off in Colorado. They perform poorly in snow.

Then I worked as a canoe counselor at a day camp. In August, I impulsively moved to St. Simons Island, off the coast of Georgia, about an hour south of Savannah and an hour north of Jacksonville. I loved it down there. After 3 months at a real job (one of the last I ever had) I worked as a cocktail waitress at Emmeline's, making some of the best money I've ever made. How depressing. I think I won't think about that too much.

While there, my boyfriend (we called him Satan, a nickname that has stuck) and I drove to Disney World, where we nibbled on same tiny bits of mind-altering paper, and had the best time ever. I also saw more freaked out, crying kids than ever, and promised to never take any children of my own there until they were adults, and can go without me. Anyway, after our fun time hiding from huge costumed animals, and being the only grown ups to ride on It's A Small World, we drove to Fort Meyers, then Tarpon Springs, then up to Homosassa.

There is a fantastic little state park there, where the alligators were fed by stringing live chickens across a wire, and the gators would make this incredible leaps to snatch the poor chickens. We saw the manatees, and I fell in love with the whole natural springs, natural part of Florida that has been largely wiped out everywhere else in the state by condos and more condos. And shopping malls. Over winter break, mid-February, my mom and Flipper and I are going there. Smokey has never been to much of Florida, and cannot wait to see the manatees. She has, blessedly, learned to let me and Sister plan trips, as we both love it and are quite good at it. She prefers to simply give us her credit card to book everything, and enjoy herself. A match made in heaven for a planning, control freak like me. Plus, more than the other members of my immediate family, I love Americana. I have been to the Jell-O museum, I have even been here:

http://www.roadsideamericainc.com/

This is our itinerary:

Fly from here to Jacksonville, FL. My days of road trips are long over. Very little could induce me to get on I-95 at this stage of the game. Drive the 45 minutes to Waycross, GA, and spend the night in a Holiday Inn, since none of the B&B's I looked at were child-friendly, or had two beds in a room. Bright and early the next morning, we will go to the Okefenokee, a truly incredible natural wonder, and have a guided tour, eat lunch, and then paddle around on our own.

Small picture of the Okefenokee. I have been there once before, and my only memory is watching an otter destroy a dead fish.

That evening we will head towards the Crystal Coast, stopping in Gainesville or nearby for the night. In the morning we will arrive in Homosassa/Crystal River, where we will check into this place:

http://www.kingsbaylodgefla.com/

a motel whose brethren are rapidly, sadly disappearing, to be swallowed up by more chains. That afternoon we will go watch the alligators and go to this state park, then get to bed early to prepare for what promises to be the highlight of our trip: SWIMMING WITH THE MANATEES. Actually getting n the water with these beautiful sea cows and watching them gently meander along. We are taking a private tour with this outfitter:

http://www.nativevacations.com/

They look eager to have a human in their midst, don't they??

Our last day will be spent at what some might argue is the ultimate in Americana: Weeki Wachee's mermaids, a show that has been in existence since 1947. Read about them here:

http://www.roadsideamerica.com/story/2068

Try not to be too jealous. Or, scorn us for our tackiness!! Either way is fine with me. I will take a million pictures, if I can ever get the color setting reset to be normal on my new camera.

Scary, is she not? Flipper is going to freak out.

Snow Day and a New Day

2009-01-21T04:16:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was Flipper's Very First Snow Day, meaning it snowed enough for school to be closed, and us to be outside for a large part of the day, minus the three hours we watched the Inauguration and the HBO concert J. had thoughtfully recorded last Saturday. I love snow for several things, but the top two are the white-blue glow that fills our homes and the silence. When Flipper woke up I had her shut her eyes and then carried her to a window. Upon opening them, she was genuinely silenced for about, oh, 5 seconds? But the look in her eyes and on her face was a perfect reflection of wonder. Then we went outside for a long walk, she eating snow the entire time, and me guiltily glad that I wasn't at work, even though I was really looking forward to watching the Inauguration with the high school students.

We headed to the lake for sledding, and Flipper loved it, until a careening sled smacked into her and knocked her completely off her feet. Then, tears. Poor Flipper!! I successfully avoided laughing, and we headed off to JoJo's house to watch the proceedings on her massive TV. I've never watched and Inauguration before, and so had no idea that the incoming prez escorts the outgoing one to a helicopter!! Who knew?? Well, actually, the friends I watched it with knew. I loved it, loved how everything the Obamas do is the result of a carefully weighted decision fraught with meaning and yet not particularly heavy-handed. I loved Jill Biden's hot, sexy boots with her short skirt; perhaps she is trying to make everyone forget her little gaffe on Oprah, although I cannot imagine what the big deal is about a choice of jobs within the same company! Which is basically what it is. I loved seeing the mega-crowd, and felt a fair bit of pride at knowing that somewhere in that teeming mass of humanity were a small group-I think 13-of our 11th graders, taken to the Inauguration by the history teacher. I've no doubt they were texting away, trying to hide their cellphones from her watchful eye.

It was great. It seems that when we see "history being made" it is so often some sort of tragic, catastrophic event, and so rarely a happy, joyful one. The times I remember are heartbreakingly sad: someone incredible being killed, like John Lennon, or the sheer shock of watching the Twin Towers fall. And how happy I am that Flipper watched the proceedings yesterday with no concept of what a big deal it is; that she will see many different faces of the presidency in her life than I ever thought possible.

Good riddance.

2009-01-20T07:17:00.000-08:00

It's happening. I am preparing to trek to a friend's mother's house to watch Barack escort the idiot to the helicopter that will whisk him back to the village in Texas that lost him 8 years ago. I never thought I would see this happen; I am sure I will feel equally as thrilled when a woman also takes the oath and makes a speech and walks someone else to the helicopter. And...it's snowing!!!

Brief and shallow. Like my pie.

2009-01-09T13:02:00.000-08:00

I am cold. And sleepy. I am trying (going) to rouse myself after this and head, no, not upstairs to my bed for a restorative nap, but into the kitchen to cook AND bake. One of my (many) New Year's "intentions" is to cook more, and better, meals, instead of the quick and easy, at which I am so very accomplished. Really. I can get a decent meal on the table in twenty minutes or less. I often wonder if I would spend more time in the kitchen, making more diverse meals if I were cooking for more people than just Flipper and me. Maybe I would if I had a family of four or more gathering for a real dinner every night. Although, I don't do too badly with the two of us. Flipper is with her dad right now, and I am about to fall asleep, and so I am going to make spinach lasagne (with easy homemade sauce) and then a deep-dish Dutch apple pie. Except that I don't actually own a deep dish pie plate, and so it will be a shallow Dutch apple pie. I will eat a slice tonight, and transport the rest to Jessica's house tomorrow for our enjoyment. The pie doesn't have a pastry crust on top, but a streusel topping with chopped walnuts instead. I will report back with an update sooner or later. And a recipe, if it is really tasty. Must go now, as sleep threatens to overtake me....

3Kings

2009-01-06T15:16:00.000-08:00

Today Flipper came to my office from her classroom wearing a green paper crown with a green "jewel" in the middle. It was "Three King's Day," also known as Epiphany. True to Waldorf style, they honored this old tradition by serving King's Cakes, (tiny healthy "cupcakes") with a colored marble inside; the color of the child's marble designated the color of the crown: red, green or blue. As usual, I am awed and impressed with the ability of the teachers to create a sense of magic and specialness for each child within a larger group. Waldorf is not, in many senses, a religious or Christian school, and yet the traditions, holidays and rituals associated with Christianity and, at times, Judaism, permeate the year. On the wall of her kindergarten classroom is a framed print of a Mary and Baby Jesus painting, which to Waldorf, symbolizes a classic mother-and-child archetype. It is surprising, even to me, that I love this type of thing so much, as me, and the rest of my immediate family, are atheists. But one of the things I feel strongly is missing in mainstream schooling is any sense of spirituality, even though I understand (and support) just why classrooms cannot have Christmas trees (even though my first grade class did) way way back in the day. Below, a picture of Seamus with the crown on. An appropriate caption for him might be "long-suffering." Mr. Long-Suffering and his crown...

Back-to-School Update

2009-01-05T14:16:00.000-08:00

Back to school, back to work. I effectively reset my internal alarm clock (the one I've been using since jr. high) and was up at 5:30 again, instead of sleeping in until 6:30 or even-gasp-7:00. Flipper woke at 6:30,and we enjoyed a nice calm early morn, undisturbed by my frustrated pleas to get-out-of-bed, hurry-up-and-get-dressed and so on. We had grapefruit, mine perfectly sectioned, hers mangled by her own hands, and then I left. The high school has a new policy of no cell phones at all during the school day, which means I get to collect them in a sweet little round basket, where they can be picked up at the end of the day. The kids weren't making calls during school, but texting during class. So farewell, cell phones. All the boys' phones were black, the girls were silver and red and cool colors like that. Almost as cool as my new dark purple one. The faculty and staff are not supposed to use theirs during the day, ever. So I put mine away, although it did not mingle in the basket with the others. Since I am a grown-up, mostly.

The painting is moving along. The purple wall is, I must say, incredible. I must also say that when I started it, I was dismayed: it looked awful. But I wasn't about to stop or re-do it another color; after all, I consulted a professional for a reason: because she knows more than me. And now that it is done, and dried (darker), I love it. The foyer and hall are two different shades of yellow, and the other three non-purple walls in the living room are yet another shade of yellow. Nutty. But I trust the color choices now, although I have permanently ix-nayed "Foxy Pink" for my bedroom. I care not about luring men to my bed with the power of feng shui; "Cornflower" and "Ocean Blue" will have to do. I am drawn to the opposite colors for rooms: I like cool tones in the bedroom and warm in the living areas. It is exciting. Will take and post pictures soon. I am glad to say "farewell" to the white walls. Next question: is it possible to paint directly over wallpaper?? Anyone??

One Wall at a Time...

2009-01-03T06:44:00.000-08:00

I am on a home-improvement kick, fueled by Christmas money that I am trying, with little success, to avoid spending. I am also inspired by my new floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, which flank my fireplace. They are incredible. Great craftsmanship, perfect in every way.

I am also motivated to do what I hate the most, and what I am, frankly, terrible at: paint. The whole house is white, with the unfortunate "rose bathroom" and "old lady kitchen" wallpaper. Those will, at least for now, stay. The bathroom in particular was done professionally, and is in perfect condition, and so I am loathe strip it. Plus, I have pink towels that seem to be happy residing amongst rose wallpaper.

Several months ago, Ella's preschool teacher came over and did a free interior design consultation on my whole place. She was a successful interior decorator in Atlanta before she began a second career as a Waldorf teacher. So she came over, toting massive paint books, and we spent about 3 hours poring over colors. She (we) decided on very bright ones: bright purple on sliding-door wall in the living room that leads to the deck, yellow on the others, jade green in the office and stairwell, pinks in my room, and so on. Unfortunately, I hate to paint anything beyond my toenails, but simply cannot pay someone to do it for me, unless they want like 100 bucks a room. Painting is so expensive!! And so I have decided to go slow: one wall at a time. After Ella and I take the damn dogs for a walk, we are trekking out to a small, locally-owned paint store, where I will get a tiny can of purple. It is going to be warm-ish today; perhaps I can even leave the door open to air things out a bit. We will see. I will take pictures and post, as it is a good way to keep me motivated.

I have framed a sheet of utterly bizarre (yet beautiful) wrapping paper that I bought from Cameron's for this express purpose. I love it!! It will hang in my "office." It is in a cheap poster frame, which is good enough. I don't know why I am so enraptured with this paper, but I am. I moved the large black-and-white of Ella to another wall, and am debating the purchase of a Raven Map of our fair state of North Carolina. Then (theoretically) I will slice it into thirds, separating the mountains from the Piedmont from the coast, and frame them individually, but hang them side by side, with a few inches between each frame. One wall in the living room is extremely long, broken by nothing: no window, no door, no nothing. Just a long expanse of white. Raven Maps are incredible, if you have never seen one, check out their website. I will Hawaii too, and frame it for another wall, probably my bedroom. I ask the same question of framing that I do of good cheese: why, oh why is it so expensive??

Bizarre forest creature/mushroom wrapping paper. Taken at this icky angle to avoid flash-glare, because I was too lazy to carry it outside.

Food, glorious food!!

2009-01-01T04:48:00.000-08:00

One of the good things that came about over Christmas was a re-awakening desire to cook more eat out less. We've cooked A LOT over the past few weeks: cookies, peanut brittle, pizzelles...culminating in a spectacular (if I do say so myself) dinner party for ten on Christmas day. Sister and I did something I have longed to do for some time: get a food magazine (in our case, Bon Appetit), and make the entire holiday meal featured in the magazine. No substitutions (had to elbow Grampy out of the way on this one) no dropping of this dish or that for some logical reason, just the whole thing in it's entirety, right down to the appetizer and dessert. So we did. Blessedly, my parents managed to let us actually do this; we let them bookend the meal by my dad making the app and my mom the dessert. Counting Flipper, there were eleven of us. The meal, by the way, was incredible. My hat is off to Bon Appetit; everything not only turned out the way it was supposed to, but their timing was impeccable: dish after dish entered and exited the oven, dovetailing perfectly. We sat down to eat just five minutes off our goal of 6:30. We will definitely do it again next year. And so, here is what we served, with a few pictures.
Table set for 11. Sister and I bought that tablecloth for our mom 2 Maui trips ago, in Makawao.

Appetizer: red pepper spread with crostini (this was the only weak link; the recipe called for a spicier pepper to be used, but my dad was afraid the British guests wouldn't like it, so he subbed roasted red peppers instead. It was a touch bland as a result. But a beautiful, rich orange.)

Salad: roasted butternut squash, endive, dried cranberry, bleu cheese. This was a winner; good blend of contrasting textures and flavors, the sharpness of the bleu cheese perfectly cutting the sweetness of the squash. Plus, it was gorgeous to look at.

Main course: a massive beef tenderloin with a porcini/sausage stuffing and and Irish whiskey gravy. Meat terrifyingly huge, we made what the recipe called for but there was a good amount left over. I, of course, did not partake of the meat, but the gravy was really, really good. Thin, not thick and gluey, etc. etc. A winner!! (the meat was the only thing Flipper ate)

Sister prepares to rub garlic mixture on roast beast. Traumatized by the rawness of it all, I had to take over.

Grampy carves the roast beast.

Sides: broccoli rabe with brown butter and roasted pecans (Incredible. I love any form of broccoli, and this was no exception)

Molasses-glazed baby carrots (glaze not thick enough, but they were so cute with a few inches of their green tops protruding)

Yukon gold potato and mushroom gratin (another winner. incredibly rich and satisfying, plus nice to look at as well.. In a wise move, Sister and I gave our dad a really good mandoline for Christmas, and I used it to slice the potatoes. Perfect slices in about 30 seconds)

Chive-and-Cheddar Yorkshire Puddings I made these, and they turned out perfectly, if I do say so myself. Eggy, doughy, puffed magnificently...just gorgeous. AND easy.

Flipper pops the cork of her faux champagne, some sort of sparkling cherry cider drink.

Dessert: chocolate gingerbread cake with coffee whipped cream. (Rich, but not sweet. made with candied ginger and sea salt, every few bites would have a tiny crunch of a salt crystal. Really good)

And that was it. We'll track the progress of this New Year's intention with a few recipes. Maybe.

Post-Zoo review

2008-12-31T03:40:00.000-08:00

I picked up the car yesterday after a beautiful day at the zoo, although it was marred somewhat by the massive crowds of people that give their kids hideous names like Anakin. Sadly, I am NOT kidding. Perhaps they need my help to give their baby a nice, normal name, one that is a reminder of this Margaret Mead truism: You are a unique individual...just like everybody else. Anyway, the animals were quite sparky, and the elephant exhibit was gorgeous. HOWEVER...the zoo will earn a letter/email from me complaining abut their poor planning for holiday crowds. By closing off the Africa parking lot, everyone started in North America, wended their way to Africa, which meant huge crowds at the ONE restaurant that was open, and a line of 200 people waiting for the tram to return them to N America. We made the kids walk, and I must say, they sucked it up impressively. The other weird thing I noticed was how many strollers had 5, 6 and even 7 year olds in them. Parents, make your kids get out and WALK!! And if they can't, then they are OUT OF SHAPE and need to do more than watch TV all day and play with their new Christmas Wii.
Back to the car...I am a convert. I cannot believe how it looked when I picked it up. It was cleaner than the day I bought it. I am promising the whole world of the Internet that I will keep it clean. They even successfully removed the ballpoint pen drawings from the back seat. Flipper has been informed of my new rule: whenever we get out of our car, EVERYTHING must come into the house with us. No more shoes, socks, trash, toys, books, clothes can remain behind. It is beautiful. I love the Carolina Car Wash, where I took it. Family owned, friendly, professional, small-townish (in a good way). Worth springing for once or twice a year. Now, back to Facebook...

New Territory

2008-12-30T03:52:00.000-08:00

Our family, we are not "get a guy" people. Which means that we generally do our home/yard/car maintenance work ourselves. My parents shun the thought of paying anyone to do almost anything they can do themselves, outside of a restaurant server fetching some food from the kitchen. No maid, no landscape crew; for many years my father changed the oil and rotated the tires on the family cars. And so Sister and I have adhered to this for most of our adult lives. Today, however, this will change for me. On the way to the zoo with a friend, I am leaving my car to be detailed in Carrboro. The Subaru has become unbearable. Moldy on the exterior, incredibly dirty and dusty on the interior. I do this not because I particularly want to shell out a hundred bucks (103, to be exact), but I hope that I will be motivated to maintain some level of cleanliness.

This level of slovenliness does not extend to the house, thank god. I am quite clean inside the four walls, although somewhat messy. But the car is a whole new ballgame. I will confess something so very icky that I beg of you not to judge me TOO harshly: over the summer Flipper jumped onto the sunroof (don't ask) and knocked it slightly off it's track. I was unaware that it caused teeny tiny interior leaks, ultimately soaking the backseat floorboards, which were covered with multiple layers of magazines and papers. I lifted out layer after layer of damp paper....and uncovered a small nest of little worms. Alive. And what did I do? Why, what anyone would do in that circumstance: I dropped the whole pile back on top of them, and walked away. But today, over the course of 6 hours, the car, which I truly love and which has served me so well, will get a cosmetic overhaul. I can't wait!!

p.s. The above maggoty-worm story made me feel awful about myself...until a friend confessed that the same thing had happened to her. Except it was a pile of clothes on her dorm room floor...

MEMEMEMEMEME!!

2008-12-16T09:24:00.000-08:00

Holiday MEME

Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate? Neither, "Russian" tea made with Tang and instant tea, straight out of the 70's. I love it.

Does Santa wrap presents or set them under the tree? He does both, depending on the size of the gift.

Colored lights on tree or white? Both. But no blinking!!

When do you put your decorations up? 10 days before Christmas.

What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? Latkes. But we're not Jewish. However, that doesn't stop me from loving them!!

When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? I cannot remember, so it must not have been too traumatic.

Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? No. We go to our one-time-a-year church service (at our old church) and then go out for Thai food.

How do you decorate your Christmas tree? With vintage glass ornaments from the 40's and 50's, glass icicles and clear lights, as well as the old-fashioned large-bulb colored ones. But NO BLINKING!!

Snow! Love it or Dread it? Love it, the more the better. But it doesn't snow much here in NC. Unfortunately.

Can you ice skate? Sort of.

Do you remember your favorite gift? A toboggan (shared with my sister) and a navy blue sweatshirt with my name on it.

What’s the most important thing about the Holidays for you? Family, and the fact that our Christmases are very low-key and have no drama or bad memories attached to them.

What is your favorite Holiday Dessert? Fudge with walnuts, made by someone else!!

What is your favorite tradition? Stockings and setting out cookies and carrots for "Santa."

Which do you prefer, Giving or Receiving? Both. Hard to choose. But probably giving the perfect present a little more.

What is your favorite Christmas Song? The Waitresses, "Christmas Wrapping"

Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum? I hate all mint, candy canes included. My daughter, however, loves mint so much she can eat Altoids one after the other.

Ever recycled a Christmas present? Yes, I have. A wine and food basket given by my boss. It made the recipient very happy!

Up Up and Away

2008-12-11T01:56:00.000-08:00

It is disconcerting to realize that one has become one's parents, although the start of my incessant NPR-listening about 8 years ago quickly cleared me over that particular hurdle, but it is even MORE unsettling to realize that one has become one's GRANDMOTHER (and at such a young age)!!
It is 4:35 a.m. I have already done a huge load of laundry, re-stacked the 30 or 40 books by my bed, made coffee, answered emails, learned how to do the blanket stitch on YouTube...and in a few minutes I am going to vacuum the entire house, save for the room where Flipper is peacefully slumbering. Then I am going to work on the felt crowns that my best friend's sons will receive for Christmas. Using the blanket stitch, of course. Then fold the laundry when it emerges from the dryer, pack Flipper's Bento box, and read the paper in a leisurely fashion, since I will actually be awake to hear the wet smack it will make when it hits the road in front of my house.
Last night I clicked the light out at 8:05. I am not kidding. This morning I read an email from a friend that sent it at 11:13, at which point I had been comatose for 3 hours.
My body loves this schedule. In my late twenties after an ugly break-up with a barely-human evil creature, I lived with my grandmother in Atlanta for 4 months or so. Every night she would go to bed at 7:30 or 8, and rise at 3 or 4. Unlike me, however, this drove her insane. She would bemoan the lack of sleep she got, and no amount of simple math tutoring on my part (and she was a lawyer, no less) could possible convince her that she was, in fact, getting 8 hours of sleep a night. They just weren't the 8 hours SHE wanted. Me? I'm OK with it. Every evening I promise myself that I will stay awake until at least 9, and most nights I fail miserably. But that's OK. Just as long as Flipper doesn't decide to join me.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas...

2008-12-10T08:45:00.000-08:00

...except at my house. I can't seem to embrace the season the way I want to, or the reality of the effort involved in putting up lights, the tree, the ten million little things I want to do. And poor Flipper, she is so, so excited and wants so badly for the lights, the tree, a wreath...all of it to magically appear. I am trying to catch her enthusiasm, and rouse myself, but it is hard. Too busy right now. So I am going to commit, here online, to DOING with her, from cutting pyracantha berries for our wreath to hanging the lights. Today, I mean tonight. I swear. I promise. Maybe!!

Book Review and Ode to a Dead Squirrel

2008-12-05T03:06:00.000-08:00

I just read a really good book. I love non-fiction and memoir, even though I am always a bit suspicious of memoirs; I mean, who can remember actual conversations that took place in a distant past? Oh, that's right, I CAN. I have a wonderful, elephantine memory. It drives other people insane. Imagine arguing with me: "But don't you remember what you said two years ago in May when we were coming back from eating at that little Italian place? You don't? Well, why not? I remember it..." And so on. It makes me want to roll my eyes and scream at myself. Loudly. But the book...the book is called Dry and is written by Augusten Burroughs. He also wrote the memoir Running with Scissors, which was widely acclaimed. He is a really good writer; intense without being over-the-top, personal without being voyeuristic, and well-rounded: you simultaneously like and dislike him, but cheer for him as he tries to remain sober after a stint in rehab, even as you hold your breath, waiting for what seems like an inevitable relapse.

I just went outside (it is 5 a.m.) to retrieve the paper, and call Seamus back in, when I noticed (thank God) the furry body of dead squirrel on the porch and Seamus crouched protectively over it. I left it for my mother to deal with, as she is about 99% less squeamish than I am. Probably from being a nurse for so many years. In a weirdly good way, however, it reminded me so much of one of my other dogs, a nightmarish (but beautiful) chocolate lab-chow chow mix named Junior. He was a total freak: all the worst traits of a lab and chow mixed into one creature. But...we loved each other so much; he was a total Mama's Boy, loyal and loving to me and few others, but that was about it. One time I went up to the bedroom, only to find him on MY BED, proudly displaying...a dead squirrel, one that had been hit by a car but that he claimed as his very own. He was so proud of it, and so happy to show it to me. This is a memory I blocked until this morning, for obvious reasons. So, in a good way, there was a tiny flash of silver to the squirrel-cloud: it made me remember Junior.
He was hit by a car and killed 3 and a half years ago. It remains one of the saddest days in my life...and I do know exactly how lucky I am to be able to say that.

Click

2008-11-19T05:43:00.000-08:00

I wish more than, well not anything, but SOMETHING that I was able to capture, on my camera, the look on Flipper's face when the few tiny flakes that fell yesterday swirled around her. Beyond priceless...it was magic.

Lists and more lists...

2008-11-17T07:30:00.000-08:00

Here you go, Di!! (I LOVE these kinds of tags, lists, memes, whatever they are...)

5 things I was doing 10 years ago
1) In school seeking a second degree (in education), making the best grades of my life
2) Living in the mountains (Cullowhee) and loving it
3) Single, traveling to see my favorite band, being a bit of a rock star, and not in a good way.
4) Exercising. A lot. I was quite fit and trim. Thinking about it makes me sad.
5) Making absolutely no plans for the future in any way, even though I was 30. Which seems impossibly young to me now...

5 things on my to-do list for today
1) Head home at 1:30
2) Eat lunch(veggie chili and cheese and crackers)
3) Take the dogs for a long walk in the crispy woods with Flipper
4) Vacuum upstairs, my most-hated chore!!
5) Work on our school's Holiday Fair

5 treats I enjoy
1) Eating out. Any place that someone else brings me good food.
2) Staying in hotels, for any reason. LOVE IT!!
3) Sugar. Pretty much any form but milk chocolate.
4) Being outside, in almost any weather.
5) Having harmonious, quiet time with Flipper,when we are both happy and engaged.

5 things I would do with tons of money
1) Give some to my parents, sister, and Flipper's dad.
2) Buy a mountain house near Blowing Rock.
3) Buy a beach house on Topsail.
4) Travel. Endlessly. Around the world, around America.
5) Hire a personal trainer and personal chef. And a maid.

5 places I've lived
1) North Carolina: sandhills, mountains, Piedmont
2) St Simons Island, GA
3) Telluride, CO
4) Cullowhee, NC
5) Carrboro, NC (currently)

5 places I've worked
1) as a cocktail waitress at the beach, a great job with tons of $$!!
2) As a copy-editor at a paper in Colorado
3) waitress (lots of places)
4) English tutor
5) Emerson Waldorf High School (currently)

Retail Therapy

2008-11-16T14:22:00.001-08:00

I am searching the Internet with Flipper's (hopeful) Christmas list at my side. Searching, searching, comparing prices, trying to decide what I can realistically make, what is beyond my reach financially, what I can assign to grandparents, etc. It should be slightly depressing, in that I wish I could just pop out a credit card with a sky-high limit (an American Express black, for example) and just run through the list, have it all sent to my parent's house, and pick it up on Christmas Eve. Not to be, certainly not this year, and perhaps never. But I can be ruthless when deciding what to keep and what to let go of, bearing in mind that she asks for one of two things: nothing remotely realistic OR nothing at all. Flipper is much more concerned with Santa not getting burned in the fireplace and having enough carrots for all the reindeer. Oh, childhood!!

In more exciting new (wait, how can that be??) the Cult has moved it's store off-campus to Carr Mill Mall for hte next two months. I have been pitching in, and will volunteer staff it a few afternoons per week. This is very exciting; most Waldorf schools have stores, but they tend to be small ones on campus for parents primarily, and run by volunteers. This new post is also volunteer-run,and it is exciting to see something so gorgeous come together. And, to work for something I believe in, meaning toys crafted with care, with natural materials and nary a battery or blinking light or frightful noise to be seen (or heard).

So, Natalie, Shanna, anyone else I know in the area with young children, come on down!! It is near the Panzanella end of the mall. Will post pictures soon of this incredible space. It is also called The Woodland Shop,and the very first customer's last name was Woodland!!! How freaky is that?? I mean, it isn't as though the store is named Smith or anything common. Hopefully, in these tightening times, a good omen.

Missing

2008-11-04T04:47:00.000-08:00

I miss you, little blog o' mine. And so I promise I won't let another such lapse occur. I think for Christmas I will ask for Internet service for my house, and force myself not to be the email-checking junkie that computers invariably turn me into. Today is Election Day, and, blessedly, I have already voted. I can't wrap my brain around other states, where early voting is not offered, and waiting HOURS to vote.
Flipper is unaware of any politics or drama, even my attempts to lure her into going with me to See Democracy In Action failed with a categorical NO from her. Followed by, "It doesn't sound like fun." But this year, it DOES sound like fun to me. Even going to a little party tonight with Flipper at one of her classmate's houses. We are all bringing appetizers. I can't wait!! Off to New York Thursday for a wedding. Also can't wait for that, although traveling with our whole family seems like a kettle that is endlessly simmering and might, at any moment, boil over, but never does.

6984

2008-10-06T07:33:00.001-07:00

Last week I went to my old office and transferred all the pictures I had on the hard drive there onto a flash drive. It took 45 minutes, and I came home with...6984 pictures. Even I was a bit shocked and horrified. Now I spend many minutes every day culling and culling and then culling some more. It is incredibly satisfying, as is almost any de-cluttering task, but, as might be expected, a bit wrenching as well. I cannot believe how young Flipper looks in so many, how curly her hair was...how just plain beautiful she was as a toddler. I must constantly remind myself that those days were tough ones, and that time marches on and on and on, stopping for no one, not even me. And then I cull some more. Kathryn is leaving Jackson Hole today, and sent me many pictures of moose and bison. God, I miss the mountains. Real mountains, ones with snow on them all the time. Work is slow because the kids aren't here, and so I will leave early and try to apply the same de-cluttering zeal I displayed with all those pictures to my house. Flipper is at my parent's house, or, in her mind, in heaven.

Happy Update!!

2008-10-03T06:10:00.000-07:00

Oh, I've been missing you, my little blog! Finally, a chance to catch up and relate news. Main news: I have a new job, and for the first time in too long, I love it. LOVE IT. What could it be? you ask. What could possibly keep Leigh's very short attention span happy and permit her to talk with some frequency, another necessity to happiness? WELL...I am the secretary for the high school part of Flipper's Cult. And, therefore, I will no longer call it The Cult, in the interest of professionalism and niceness. I have a nice, well-lit office, (finally!) the students are incredible, the teachers are intensely committed and heart-driven. I am surrounded by music and art. From the students, that is. They play the piano before school starts, they sing unselfconsciously, they play the guitar between classes, they are polite, kind, and respectful...I could go on and on but I won't.

Here is an example of my duties: to signal the start of each class, I stand in the central hall and ring a medium-sized Chinese gong. Why, no, I am NOT kidding. No harsh electric bells here!! No, a real, live human being send the happy students on their merry way! I also take attendance, hold the confiscated cellphones until after school, and enforce, if necessary, the dress code. No real rule breakers. Yet.

And so, I am very happy right now!

It was in the stars!!

2008-09-16T06:41:00.000-07:00

I have become, in the past few weeks or so, totally and completely addicted to Facebook. I STILL can't believe it. What HAS been disconcerting, however, is how many people have emailed me, or, more accurately, written on my magical Facebook "wall" to say this exact sentence, or some close variant: "Is that beautiful little girl actually YOURS???" I mean, it is apparently quite shocking to some (many) people that I have managed to mate and reproduce and the product of said union is quite cute. This is one of those things I refuse to think about too much. Because my feelings might get hurt!! But I tell you this, Facebook is FUN. And, unlike MySpace, it seems devoid (so far) of scantily-clad teen-agers. I think the key here are the words "so far." I have reconnected-however briefly- with people I haven't seen or heard from in years. I troll their site, looking at their pictures, and writing little comments if I feel so moved.

I wonder what all of this computer/Internet/technology stuff will look like and be like when Flipper is older. And "older" she will have to be. As some of you know, all media/electronic use is discouraged for children in a Waldorf school, meaning that even Flipper's 1-2 hours of week-end animal documentary DVD watching is frowned upon. No classroom has a computer, a fact that causes some parents consternation, as they worry that their child will not be able to pick up the skills later, and will be disadvantaged in the workplace as adults. Other parents, when they find out that we have no TV, no Internet access, no toys that require batteries (although, to be honest, this evolved more from my own loathing of sound than a belief system) ask me about it. I believe this, from the FAQ section of the website www.whywaldorfworks.com

What about computers and Waldorf education?Waldorf teachers feel the appropriate age for computer use in the classroom and by students is in high school. We feel it is more important for students to have the opportunity to interact with one another and with teachers in exploring the world of ideas, participating in the creative process, and developing their knowledge, skills, abilities, and inner qualities. Waldorf students have a love of learning, an ongoing curiosity, and interest in life. As older students, they quickly master computer technology, and graduates have successful careers in the computer industry.

But I also think that there will be a greater demand in the future for people-oriented jobs in healthcare (particularly elder-care), mental health, teaching, etc. I also think that the way technology is moving, it will get easier and easier to learn programs and applications. So, we'll see. Last week I had (Justine, stop reading now so we can remain friends!!) a personal astrological consultation with this astrologer: www.lhillman.com
It was, of course, utterly fascinating. He warned me not to be too checked out of "the real world"-and he wasn't referring to an MTV show, and that my natural desire IS to be removed from modern society, culture, etc. Jokingly, I mentioned that he might feel better about me if he knew that I have a had a subscription to People magazine for many years, and he said, "Actually, that does make me feel better." He is an excellent astrologer. My sister consulted him as well several months ago, with equally positive results. He recommended that I take a martial arts class(!!) So, if you know of one that is a touch more spiritually based and isn't focused on competition, let me know!!!

Our week-end

2008-09-15T09:01:00.000-07:00

I wonder what (and where) Flipper's "Favorite Places" will be when she grows up. A beach, for sure. Mountain place? Her grandparent's house? This past week-end we returned to one of MY very favorite places of all time, and, as usual, had so much fun. I hated leaving. I wish I could stay there for a week or more one of these days. The place needs a touch of explanation: one of my friends from college, who also arrived at motherhood a bit late (like me) has had family settled in Winston Salem for several generations. Her grandmother, whom, from all accounts was one tough lady, had a vision of a place in the foothills, a house on a lake. So she worked and saved and worked and saved and eventually bought, built, dug and created her dream over a period of time int eh 60's and 70's. And so, at the top of a dead-end road near Pilot Mountain, is her version of paradise. 400 acres. Woods, all of it, except for a beautifully clear spring-fed lake. Two houses, one a true mountain house with large stone fireplace, screened porch, antique furniture. The other, a real log house with chinking, a decent kitchen and lots of screened porches. Very old-fashioned; unpolished, unstained log floors, low, timbered ceilings. Sounds like heaven, does it not? My friend took me to her family's spot one spring in college, and I fell in love. When Flipper was a baby, she and I reconnected, and every summer since I have been lucky enough to return for a week-end or two.

Flipper lake-front, early one morning.

Another view of the lake.

Flipper walking between the two houses.

The old cabin where we slept.

Flipper fished for about 300 straight hours over the week-end. I could not tear her away from the dock or the pole. I could not believe her diligence and patience and fascination with it. Or maybe it was just the Barbie rod and reel. Another college friend came with 4 teens, two are her daughters and their two best friends. And they are a whole 'nother story. Just let me say this: to ALL of you parenting teens...my hat is off to you. Really. I mean it.

Newbie

2008-09-12T08:51:00.000-07:00

Because I am lazy and fleeing for the week-end and have a million or two things to do before I head out of town at 3 this afternoon, I will not leave you with my own scintillating writings, but those of my sister, who just started her own blog. You can find her HERE: http://kathrynsparacino.blogspot.com

Exciting (I hope) news from me on Monday. Everyone have a good week-end!

Update

2008-09-10T06:23:00.000-07:00

Keith came through yesterday afternoon and took Flipper off to try to replace her stolen bike, a bike I miss more every day because it was just so...PERFECT for her. And, perfect for ME because it was free. I was on the phone having a personal astrological reading at the time. At any rate, they found a decent replacement at a used sporting goods store, and while it doesn't in any way achieve the purpley-pink glory of her "Malibu Stardom" bike, it is speedy. And red. And has flames on it. Here's yet another rhetorical question: why, oh why, does every single toy have to be so fucking gender specific? What happened to a green bike? Or orange? Why is the world of little kid-dom a world of blue and black and pink and lavender? I emailed the customer service department of Camelbak last year with the same complaint. I realize there is no good answer to this, or, more accurately, no answer that will satisfy me. She tore around the tennis court near my house until she fell and skidded on a sharp turn and screamed hysterically for few minutes and then got back on and kept riding. She is good that way.

And I want to say a "thank you" to Kelly, a friend of a friend, that offered her daughter's bike to Ella. It makes the loss of her bike sting a little-no, a LOT, less.

Gone (but not forgotten)

2008-09-09T06:35:00.000-07:00

Remember this?

It's gone.

Stolen not 10 feet from my front door, helmet tossed on the ground. At least they left the helmet. And, interestingly, my grown-up, much more expensive ADULT mountain bike was left behind. Flipper is not angry (Mommy has the exclusive rights to that emotion) but she is very, very confused. There is something more enraging about a child's bike being stolen than an adult's, because someone ADULT had to steal it FOR a child. My bike? Well, that I "get" more. Ride it away, use it, sell it, whatever. But a little girl's bike that is worth only 25$ or so could only have been stolen for one reason: for another child. I try to imagine this: some older brother, sister, mother, dad, uncle, family friend, whatever, presenting this bike to another 5 (or 6) year-old little girl, a child that might even learn to ride a bike for the first time...on Flipper's. And this little girl will (hopefully) have no idea that her uncle, aunt, father, brother, whoever, stole it for her. Flipper hasn't mourned it's loss TOO much; she is much more concerned about when I am going to replace it. And that is what sucks: this bike was free, I don;t have any spare money right now. This bike was the perfect size, the perfect everything...although I can't really wrap my brain around white tires. And now it has vanished, and Craig's List is empty of little bikes. I am sure something will work out.

Week-end

2008-09-08T06:53:00.000-07:00

The week-end, which started out so excruciatingly dull, turned out to be pretty fun after all. The rain on Saturday wasn't enough to be exciting or dramatic, but enough to keep us inside. We were just bored. Yes, I know that "only boring people are bored"...but maybe I am a really boring person. So, poor Flipper. These are the times that I wish she had a sibling to go off and invent some sort of super-involved imaginary SOMETHING, and yet she can't. I need to take a good look at her toys, and think about some new things for her to play with/do/create/build. She isn't much of a builder, perhaps because it, like so many things, isn't much fun to do alone. By 2 on Saturday afternoon we were tired of each other, short-tempered and irritable. Then, a friend called and within an hour we were all packed in her small car, headed to Raleigh for the International Festival, held in the new convention center. It is MASSIVE. 500,000 square feet packed with what seemed to be 6 or 7 million people, food booths, and, for some strange reason, a bunch of motor boats, jet-skis and RV's on display. Now, I have to hand it to whoever set this up: I absolutely loved seeing about 700 kids of all ages racing up rickety wooden steps with no handrails to swarm all over the boats, bounce on the RV's beds, and generally just crowd on and off of boats and boat trailers on a concrete floor. How I loved that there was almost no supervision beyond the random mom dad saying, "Get down from there now so we can go eat!" No one seemed worried that their kid would take a flying leap onto a concrete floor, or that the small wooden stairs might not be super-safe; I just loved it. When it comes around next year, by all means GO!! The food is fantastic AND inexpensive, the stage has a constantly changing cast of dancers form about 80 different countries, it was great. But don't go if you don't like crowds. More tomorrow on a tiny loss of Flipper's innocence and faith in humanity. (sob)

Back (briefly)

2008-09-05T07:04:00.000-07:00

Oh, I've been missing you, sweet little blog!! And since I don't really feel like writing too much, pictures from our beach trip over Labor Day week-end will have to suffice. Eating on the deck.

Balance beam practice for 2020 Olympics.

Rough ocean. Made even ME nervous.

Really, a post about nothing

2008-08-27T05:40:00.000-07:00

Flipper's Bento box arrived yesterday, along with more teeny tiny reusable cups and skewers and generally cute stuff. Bento things are TINY. This is good for us, because she doesn't eat sandwiches, or more typical lunch things, and as her school provides a hefty hot snack just 90 minutes or so before lunch, a large amount of food isn't a priority for me. Not throwing food away is. One unexpected bonus of her Bento box is the hilarious "Engrish" sentences on the lid. I have a friend that LOVES Engrish, and I hope she sees this and gets a little laugh as I did. (go to http://www.engrish.com/ for more examples)

The top reads, "Today is so nice day! How about going for a walk?" I love the "so nice day."
Small and cute, yes? The yellow part is the bottom section; the top one has a movable divider.
Another view of a lunchbox fit for a munchkin...

The two pieces, as well as the small silicone cups that hold a few grapes, or one strawberry, etc. Resting against the cream-colored section are small (and quite sharp) skewers for teeny kabobs of fruit or veggies. They each have an animal on the top. Bento is big on animals; see the yellow bunny cup?

Not pictured: the stripy cloth drawstring sack that holds it all. I cannot believe I have written an entire post about a 5 year-old's lunchbox. And if you are wondering just why I selected the box I did, well it is because, "The donkey is my favorite farm animal." Who knew?

Nothing Much.

2008-08-26T07:41:00.000-07:00

I look at this website and I think, My God I'm white. http://www.stuffwhitepeoplelike.com

Sunday I donned two hats simultaneously; Sporty, athletic fit Mommy and Competent Mommy. Both fit well. Flipper is unable to be separated from her bike. She wants to ride all day, every day. On Sunday we walked up the sidewalk and crossed Estes, easily accessing the web of trails that comprise the whole area around Bolin Creek. She, outfitted with a new pink helmet and her old pink Camelbak, rode and rode and rode. Oh, and fell on big rocks a few times. It was adorable, mountain-bike-girl, without the mountains. I ran and trotted and jogged and sweated while holding one dog on the leash. The other, not being predisposed to snap at the legs of runners and bikers (except us) runs free. I felt so virtuous, and, for brief moment, so thin. About 45 minutes into our trek, the chain on Flipper's bike came off. And here, in one of those beautiful and (sadly rare) Ms. magazine moments*, I told her to hold the leash, not talk for a few minutes, and that I would fix it. Which I did. She was proud and happy. I was more relieved than I can express, given that we were a solid mile or more from my house and I had a frightful vision of wheeling and carrying and cursing the bike all the way home.

*One of Top Ten Proudest Moments: I sent in a sexist ad torn from a magazine to Ms and they printed it on the "No Comment" page. Very proud. Oh, the ad? It was for either booze or perfume. i think perfume. It showed a woman from the back, dressed in an evening gown, with her wrists "handcuffed" together with a bracelet, while some guy lounged on the bed in front of her.

A Re-Cap

2008-08-25T06:56:00.000-07:00

Since once is never enough, now I can freely abuse the Olympics again since they are, blessedly, over for anoth 4 years. And speaking of which...stop torturing us with them every TWO years and revert to the Winter and Summer games being held in the same year. I mean, why did it even change? Get it over with in one fell swoop. These "suggestions" will be short and sweet. Many of my earlier "suggestions" were validated once the Games actually commenced. And so...we're off!

1) Reiterating my earlier stance: ban about 50% of what is allowed. It seems as though any sport can make it to the Olympics now, and that is actually abad thing, not a good thing. Sailing? I think not. The fact that sailing was an utter fiasco this year should be reason enough to toss it. Ban all team sports, starting with those that are POPULAR. So, volleyball stays (the kind played INSIDE, that is) basketball goes. Ditto tennis. Ditto soccer. There is something strangely wrong about professional millionaires going for the gold. Or, keep the sports but ban the pro athletes. let it be college kids! More fun! More...sporting, somehow.

2) Women: put some fucking clothes on. I mean it. ESPECIALLY in the invented "sport" of beach volleyball. Make the women and men wear the same thing. That goes for track, too. I mean it: put some clothes on. There is no reason that you need to wear basically nothing, and no, I don't buy your argument that you're able to move more easily. Were that true, the men should have to be basically naked as well. Gymnasts? Leotards were HIDEOUS. Skin-tight glittery red "fabric"-and I use that word loosely, looks good on NO ONE. You should be wearing the smae thing, Nastia and Shawn. No pink. No glitter. No sequins.

Look at Olga! Nary a sequin to be seen!!

3) And while we're talking about gymnastics...for the love of god, someone, somewhere, somehow get rid of Bela. He is a bullying*, poor sport that doesn't help us at all. And his little wife, too. He's been doing it long enough; time for some fresh blood. Like Shawn Johnson's coach, who actually seems to let her eat food. And Nastia? Tell your dad to stop kissing you on the mouth when you finish a routine. It's icky.

4) I have to weigh in on the side of the IOC head that chastised that runner for his macho posturing after his races. Actually, I have an even better idea: ban the victory lap. You're done, you won, head to to podium. Don't let the flag touch the ground, remember? Or was it just me that took all that flag-ceremony stuff so seriously at Camp Toccoa? I mean, can you imagine Michael Phelps staying in the pool, swimming up and down with a (wet) flag dragging behind, pointing at the sky, and so on, and so on? Nope. He celebrates for about .02 seconds, gets out, and hugs his mom. THAT'S how you do it.

Wrong on so many levels, I barely know where to start.

5) US relay team: not sure what to say about you guys, except that this must be the most forgiving sport in the world where the person that droped the baton 4 years ago gets to do it again this year. And your excuse that you aren't together to practice? Find a way. But don;t drop it. And ladies? Put some clothes on.

Upcoming...

2008-08-22T08:08:00.000-07:00

Oh, the Olympics. They are almost over!! Do I save my commentary until the bitter end, or share it now? I think I'll wait. Let things simmer, so to speak.

Our upcoming week-end promises to be a social one, full of entertainment. This evening my best friend arrives from Rocky Mt. with her eldest son, and we are going to the Forest Theater to see The Paperhand Puppet Intervention's annual summer show. She has never been before; it is our 3rd year. I can't wait to see her!!! And, our tickets have been purchased for New Orleans, our hotel room has been booked (I will be sorry when my sister stops working for Marriott and 38.00 rooms are no longer available to me), we have found a private driver to whisk us from the airport to our hotel and other fun places, now all we have to do is but tickets to the show. They go on sale September 12, my parents' 44th wedding anniversary. Amazing, really.

Tomorrow morning we go to a birthday party at Mapleview Farms. I am looking forward to this. I think it will be fun, there will be some sort of hayride or other adorable photo-op activity, plus ice cream. really, a winner all the way around.

Sunday is The Cult's Back-to-School picnic. It is a potluck, although it never seems to work out that everyone has enough to eat. They do make the teen-agers go last, however. I think the school should pay for real and fake burgers and dogs, and let the parents bring sides and desserts. But, shockingly, they didn't ask me!! I have been racking my brain and trying to decide what to bring-I always expend WAY too much energy trying to make a decision about things like this-and decided to make 2 or 3 batches of blueberry mini-muffins. We have tons of frozen berries, and everyone likes them. I hope. Sunday morning I will be there for an hour or two, doing more landscaping/weeding in preparation for the first day of school. Blessedly, Flipper does not go back to school until the day after Labor Day (I think this should be a national law) and so we have some time left to squeeze every sweaty, chlorinated, mosquito-y drop out of summer. And that's all.

Oh, bento.

2008-08-19T07:23:00.001-07:00

Flipper returns to The Cult for her second year of kindergarten 14 days from today. As such, I have been ironing out minor issues and larger ones, some easy to accomplish, others less so. Oh, and none that are actually important. The main one is that she will not be staying for the "nap" program this year. Regular kindergarten is over at 12:30, but kids can stay until 3 if they need to. She did this 3 days a week last year...and it sucked. Mostly because if she sleeps during the day, she WILL NOT go to sleep until much later that evening, say 9:30 or 10, and then is an absolute nightmare the next morning, tired, etc., and the whole icky cycle gets repeated. Waldorf is very big on sleep. And on staying warm, but that is another issue. And so I get it, I, too, think that children today stay up later than they should, are tired at school, etc. But when I hear friends talk about their child's bedtime as 6:30 or 7, I think, No way. And they would say, WAY. But she cannot stay after school and not lie down on a little mat in a little muslin teepee for 45-60 minutes, and stay awake. Even a 30 minute nap throws off her whole evening!! Nor should she be able to read or play while everyone else stays lies quietly and/or sleeps. So we are bagging it this year. Other changes will take place, mostly that I will take her to school every morning, as opposed to my mother, but my mom will pick her up at 12:30 and keep her until 2-2:30. I think this will work better for all of us, but particularly Flipper. Now, moving on: at her school the children (and teachers) wear slippers inside the classroom for a variety of reasons that I won't elaborate upon here. For the past two year she has worn THESE:

Nice, warm, vaguely old lady-ish, but whatever.

BUT...they make her feet hot. Very hot. And I empathize because I, too, have Hot Feet. They cannot even be under the covers at night. So this year, I was all set to order more, since fleece slippers seemed even hotter to me, when I was struck by a flash of inspiration and ordered THESE instead:

SO cute!! So...un-hot. I hope. So far Flipper loves them.

And the last hurdle we (I) tackled was lunch. Or, to be more accurate, what I am going to pack it in. Like many, many things, I thought I would love making lunches for Flipper. But I hate it, mainly because she eats so little of it. She has been taking her lunch in a very Waldorf-y natural basket with a lid, all sweet and brown and plain. Now that I feel more secure in my Cult status, able to bend the unspoken rules a tad more without fear of expulsion or shunning, I am jumping on the bento bandwagon!! I love the cuteness! I love the fact that nothing gets thrown away! I hate the plastic...but can live with it!! Bento will work for us (hopefully) because Flipper hates sandwiches, which lets out a whole lot of easy lunch-making possibilities. But I get so inspired by the sheer adorableness and healthiness of most bento lunches. So...today I bought her a bento box, a little cloth drawstring sack to hold it, small, open-topped silicon containers to hold little things, some animal skewers to make fruit kabobs, and tiny pig-shaped squeeze bottles for soy sauce, since she loves inari, and will undoubtedly take some to school this year. A recent Newsweek article referred to bento-lunch-making mothers as "overachievers" and I scoffed at that...but then I re-read this entry and thought, Wow. I sound completely crazy.

I love the donkey! It says, Today is a nice day. Would you like to take a walk? Apparently, most boxes are made in Japan, where they have these English statements on them that are, usually, correct, but often make little sense. This box is two-tiered, with the upper tier divided into two compartments. It is SMALL, about 6x5x3. Perfect for the tiny appetite!!

The cloth bag. Seems to go perfectly with the donkey-box (as if that matters) AND...it was only 3.50.

These are divider cups, used to hold a few soybeans, or small crackers, or a mini-muffin...also used to point out that I am completely insane.

The eensy-beensy squeeze bottles. Mine are shaped like little pigs!! The animal-skewers. AND...the inspiration:

Note: nothing like this will ever appear in Flipper's lunch. I just like to look at the many possibilities dreamed up by people even more crazy than I am!!

*I bought all the above supplies from www.iloveobento.com

For more nutty pictures from overachievers, go to http://shop.iloveobento.com/blogs/bento-gallery and imagine breaking out your little cute box in the lunchroom while everyone else brown-bags it.

Another (little) milestone...

2008-08-18T06:09:00.000-07:00

After many, many spills, tears, MORE spills-including one collision with a gravestone, my very determined and pretty tough little girl...GOT IT.

Only one (most of the time)

2008-08-15T07:32:00.001-07:00

Little (only) bunny!!

Toys are the bane of my existence. No, not really, a weak bank account is! But it feels like I am always in pursuit of something that doesn't really exist-except in my own mind- The Perfect Toy. The one that will keep Flipper happy and occupied and not impart any shaky values to my little angel. And, it must be wood, or close to it, require no batteries, have minimal plastic...blah blah blah. But here's the sad truth: no toy is really going to grab her because she has no sibling to enjoy it with. She can play with a friend for hours in her room, with her dollhouse or fairyhouse or silks or Legos or blocks...but by herself? Not so much. And I hate it. Mostly because my sister and I always got along great, always played together for hours and hours, building, drawing, pretending creating...and Flipper has none of it. I hate her only-child status, and yet, barring some sort of Biblical miracle...she will always be an only child.

Many facets of it I like...just the two of us, the ability to take her on trips that would be out of reach with another, her education at The Cult, which, again, would be out of reach financially with another child. Our house is silent in the mornings, so much so that my best friend calls it The Tomb. But. I have one annoying trait-actually, that is a total lie, I have many annoying traits, but I can almost always look on the bright side of any situation, even to the point where Pollyanna would look like the world's worst pessimist. The best thing about not necessarily every only child, but definitely mine, is Flipper's ability to make friends easily with other children.

This was NOT part of my childhood, as my sister and I made up a very exclusive gang of two, and pretty much ignored or shunned others that wanted to play with us. But Flipper can go to the beach and within a day find other little friends to frolic with, she is blessedly gender-blind, and loves her male friends as much as her female ones (more, even, at times) and where she is shy with adults, she loses all reserve with other kids. I love this about her, even if I hate the circumstances that let her be this friendly, adaptable little girl. We had a great playdate the other evening, a mist, rainy afternoon that led to my creation of the very best macaroni-and-cheese EVER (I will post recipe soon), a rainy graveyard romp with wet kids, and then chalk on the parking lot, and the messy but exhilarating discovery that the chalk, when wet, runs together to make a thick paint. I love it when kids get dirty and muddy and wet and covered in something. It just seems so...kid.

Chalk paint!!

Messy hands!! (Creative kids)

Blocks discovery; finally old enough to enjoy building. Here, the start of a bus station!

Shedding light

2008-08-13T08:31:00.000-07:00

How sad AND interesting that the biggest thrill of my life right now is having an electrician install a light in my pantry, which is really a pitch-black closet that hides food so successfully that I have multiples of the very same thing. I had to take out everything, including the shelves, so he could work. I piled all the cans and boxes and jars and bottles on the dining room table. Unfortunately, the damn dogs tore apart a bag of granola, calling to mind the disastrous (for me) episode with the flour last December. But this time was worse...Sophie, the delicate, fragile, purebred NIGHTMARE woke me at 2:15, nosing me to let her outside. I did...and then discovered 6 separate piles of poo in the living room. I spent one hour cleaning it up, and then she woke me every 30-45 minutes after that ALL NIGHT LONG. Then, at 7 a.m., she fell asleep and didn't get up again. I, however, was spared this luxury and am now at work. Not sleepy yet...but I will be.

Pantry. Or, really really dark closet. One shelf emptied...

Contents from said shelf...amazing how much was on that shelf!!

Will post more pictures when the project is complete.

For once, NOT a control freak...

2008-08-12T07:20:00.001-07:00

I cannot believe how heavenly the weather is. Disconcerting, even. Last summer we were DYING--100+ temperatures, and now I actually got COLD last night!! And woke up with Flipper AND Seamus pressed against me, shunting me to the very outside edge of the bed. It has, however, caused the water temp in the pool to plummet, and it has gotten quite chilly after just one or two nights of cooler weather. Not deterrent to Flipper, however. I can imagine almost nothing that would keep her out of the water.

A few weeks ago I went by a thrift store I almost never frequent, and there, outside, a bit shabby, was a dollhouse. A BIG one, made, obviously, from a kit. And made imperfectly. I didn't care in the slightest, and after forking over three whole dollars, we brought it home, where it has become Flipper's new "project." Over the week-end, we finally dragged ourselves to the craft store and bought little bottles of craft paint, and then I left her to it, quelling my desire to take over and make perfect the trim outside the windows, the edges where the floors meet the walls. But I realized that she doesn't see any of the mistakes she has made, the splotches on the walls, the splashes on the floors. And so they will remain. She is in love with this thing, and played with it yesterday with 2 friends that were visiting. She wants to make furniture next. We'll use The Borrowers for inspiration!

A blank slate...

Blue roof, yellow walls, red trim.

Finished!! For now. The fairies have happily moved in.

Faster than...

2008-08-11T07:06:00.000-07:00

This has been such a fast summer...and the week-ends go by even faster. When Flipper was young, 18 months or so, and I was freshly single, week-ends would loom in front of us like some sort of miserable mountain; we were both so bored and lonely, she was still too young for "real" playdates, me, with few friends and parents that had not yet retired, and so were busy on week-ends, and, well, they just sucked. Once, in sheer desperation, I took her to a playground...even though it was only 26 degrees and bitterly windy. One other mother was there, and we bonded, shivering, as our kids ran around for half an hour or so. But those days are behind us now. Thank God. Friday night we went to Bynum for what might have been the funnest music evening of all. So far. GREAT weather, kids off running amok, frolicking without any adult supervision/interference...it was great. One of Flipper's school friends came as well, and they all had a good time. So...pictures below. Tomorrow: why watching TV with Flipper might be the most maddening thing I have encountered in some time.

Caroline. These boots were made for, well, SOMETHING, I'm sure. Perhaps being cute?

Caroline's father, a self-portrait, if you will. Recently, I had dinner with two nice men that had just returned from a very very good time on Fire Island. They, too, picked up someone's camera and took a few shots...but not of the head on TOP of their body.

Stage and fantastic gospel group. Loved them.

. Caroline, sans boots, after a highly successful feeding of the hat.

Night.

MY Olympics, by The King

2008-08-08T06:12:00.000-07:00

I'm going to write it out loud: I am fully convinced that I could single-handedly run the Olympics BETTER than the current state it is in, a state that is so bloated, cheapened, and sold-out that it is virtually unwatchable. At least to me. Although, truth to be told, the main reason it is unwatchable to me is the lack of a TV. I actually can't remember the last Olympic event I saw in recent history...but I do remember Nadia's 10. I was 8 years old, and we still had a little black and white TV on a rolling stand. When I was 5, and my general impatience and quick-to-anger temper was just beginning to rear it's ugly head, I jerked it towards me in a fit of rage that one of the wheels was caught on the edge of the rug, and TV got its revenge by flattening me to the floor, TV on my chest. My family, with the exception of the Nice Member (our mom) often plays an entertaining little game called "If I Were The King Of The World I Would...". Try it! So fun to try to bend 5 or 6 billion people to your will! My dad would ban hats in restaurants. I must second him on that. 4 days ago were we eating at La Residence in Chapel Hill and some guy at the bar had a visor on.

Anyway, here is what I would do to to transform the Olympics back into a nice little amateur athletic competition:

1) Ban any opening ceremonies besides the parade of athletes. There is no reason why any country/city should spend millions of dollars on some sort of choreographed dance that honors some sort of heritage. Plus, NO SHOW should last 4 hours. Yes, Atlanta and the ugly cars: I am talking about YOU. But I LIKE the parade of athletes, although the only one that I can remember was a long time ago, Winter Olympics, when the US wore sheepskin coats and cowboy hats. Loved it! Here, backing up my proposal, is what is wrong with the Olympics:

The Games, which will open at precisely 8.08pm on Friday, on the date 08.08.08, come as the culmination of seven years in which the Olympics have dominated China's politics, culture and industry, with £20 billion spent on venues and infrastructure in a desperate bid to improve the country's image internationally.

There is something truly disgusting about this. Do you see how much money that is? How much time and energy was spent on improving an image? As opposed to actually DOING something decent that will help MORE than an image? Can we all, just for a minute, imagine how many people that could have helped? Like people in Tibet. Or the ones tossed out of their villages for a monstrous dam to destroy the environment and homes to provide power to factories so we can keep going to Wal-Mart to buy cheap plastic crap.

2) No team sports. No soccer, no basketball, nothing like this. It is silly, and just plain wrong for professional players to play in the Olympics. I would extend this ban ACROSS THE BOARD. Good-bye, tennis. And screw you, Michael Jordan, for refusing to get on the stand because your sponsor (Nike) didn't provide the uniforms. "I don't believe in endorsing my competitors," Jordan said. "My contract with Nike is much more lucrative than my contract with Reebok."

Get some GRATEFUL athlete up there!!

3) A media ban on any story of any kind that has the words "heartwarming" or "tragic" applied to it. Total. Media. Ban.

Remember them? I do. But I don't remember who actually DID win the gold that year.

4) The Games would be held in the same city, in a friendly, neutral country. No more million-dollar pitches, no more unseemly wooing of the IOC, an organization that has gotten entirely too big for it's britches, in my opinion. Canada. Switzerland. Or, just keep the damn thing in Greece, where it all started. Some chilly country that no one hates. Which lets us out of the running for the next 100 years.

5) No mascot. This isn't Jr. High, people!! This is another arena that Atlanta royally fucked up. See?

The copy that accompanied this stated PROUDLY, proudly, mind you, that "this was the first mascot designed by a computer. "

6) All athletes must wear the same thing. This really only applies to ice skaters, and I think that ALL of them MUST wear the SAME little skirt thing. No more hideous sequins. No more "artistic license." Remember how awesome that Russian pair looked that wore plain navy blue? They looked even more awesome with a gold medal around their necks, proving that, indeed, all that glitters is NOT gold.

See? Classy. Simple. PLAIN, if you will. The Amish of the skating world. And I mean that in a good way.

7) And, last but not least, for the love of God, STOP SELLING EVERYTHING! No more endorsements, no more mentions of "how much someone is worth," no more pimping out of athletes.

See? Want to vote me "King of the World" don't you?

As a sidenote, if you really DO want to watch something tragic, genuinely tragic, not made-for-TV-tragic, rent "One Day in September" and try not to cry. It isn't possible.

Dark, not milk

2008-08-07T08:10:00.000-07:00

Short today since my N&O column is due, but I had to pass this along. I became a teen-ager/college student this week and joined Facebook. It is terrifyingly addictive. Several people from my past got in touch, and we are "now friends." BUT... how cool is this? One of the guys that contacted me lived in Telluride the same time I did, and then started a chocolate company called...DAGOBA. One of my very favorite brands of chocolate. I like very very dark, very very bitter chocolate. No milk chocolate ever. And this guy makes , or made, one of the brands I adore. How fantastic! And it would be even MORE fantastic if he sent me about a million pounds of it.

The Sting

2008-08-06T08:27:00.000-07:00

I am going to strike while the iron is hot, so to speak, and try to pick up some material today for Flipper's cute little jumper. I must find a way to handle the buttonholes, which I have no experience sewing at all, but realize that it is a skill that must be conquered. Flipper was stung by a big hideous black wasp yesterday at my mother's house. It was hiding inside a huge bell wind chime that she decided to ring. The wasp apparently disliked it's housebuilding interrupted by a monstrous GGGOOONNNGGG!!!! and sought revenge. Successfully, I might add. Unlike bees, they don't die when they sting, and so live to sting another day. It got her right beside her eye, on her upper cheek. She is remarkably stoical when it comes to real pain, like this, and yet will moan for a Band-Aid for a tiny splinter. I cannot figure this out. This morning it is, apparently, quite swollen, although she says it doesn't hurt. I say "apparently" because I left a good hour before she woke up. Aunt Kathryn spent the night and so I left them both at 7:20 this morning and headed off to work.
I am plowing through books this summer at an amazing clip. I discard any and all books that fail to grab me quickly, and am currently enraptured with memoir/humor, a la Bill Bryson, David Sedaris, Tony Horwitz, etc. I just finished "My Years in Paris" which Julia Child wrote just before she died. It is fascinating, this glimpse of post WWII Paris, the people, the land, the food. I loved it, my dad read it at the beach and liked it as well. Many times celebrities just aren't particularly good writers, but she did a good job. Flipper is plowing, with some adult assistance, the 5th of the 8 Ramona books we own. The whole series, in fact. I liked these books as a kid, and she likes them as well. She is fast leaving picture books behind, although she loves to look at the illustrations in the Ramona books. I like them because the family struggles financially, not dirt-poor like Where the Lilies Bloom but are hurting nonetheless when the dad loses his job, is only able to find work as a grocery store clerk, then returns to school to get a college degree, blah blah blah. So many books seem to have white collar parents with good (stable) jobs and yet there are so many families that are, truly, middle class. And, it seems as though they have all gone to college. It is hot outside, brutal, in fact. But I can vividly remember last summer, where this kind of heat wound on day after day, and so I haven't complained. Much. Yet.

SIDENOTE: The movie of Where the Lilies Bloom was filmed entirely in NC, in Watauga County. When I was in Jr. High, my closest friend's family had a tiny cabin there, and we went there on week-ends. Down the road from their cabin was the cabin that was used for this movie. I remember it vividly. I also remember taking codeine cough syrup on one week-end trip...but that's another story.

Making It.

2008-08-05T06:36:00.000-07:00

Certain...things, financial things, if you will, are going to force me to be more money-conscious, something that I am appallingly bad at, even considering how pretty much broke I am. Perhaps that is WHY I am without. At any rate, one of my main weaknesses is clothes. Not for me, but for Flipper. Expensive clothes. Expensive clothes made from organic cotton, clothes that will not be worn by a younger sibling, although I do have some occasional success selling them to the lucky with smaller girls than my own. But, considering the incredibly unhealthy things I used to spend money on, perhaps organic cotton isn't all THAT bad.

I love Mini-Boden. Love it. Do not care (much) that it is frightfully expensive, love it. Flipper has worn many items, and, blessedly, she has short arms and legs; in fact, she is short all over, which means I rationalize spending 28.00 on a long-sleeved t-shirt because she will wear it for 2 years. Or so I tell myself. At any rate, the fall catalog just came out, and I went through it like I always do, marking everything I want...and the total was 299.00. Not doable. Financially, or realistically. So I pruned and weeded, and regretfully crossed THIS off the list: God, I love it. So cute. So happy. So vaguely 70's, and in a good way, not the Studio 54-disco-ish way. Brief digression: While scanning channels at the beach, Kathryn and I stumbled upon a VH1 (I think) documentary entitled "The Drug Years". We watched the depiction of Studio 54, the late 70's, the clip of Eric Clapton with a shirt on that said "No Snow No Show." It was, well, mesmerizing. We would both like to be transported back, for just one night. A late night. Anyway, moving on...I wanted to buy this for her, but the price (44.00) isn't THAT bad, but the truth is, I can make this. And so I am going to try to make corduroy skirts and jumpers for her. I love applique and embroidery, and am convinced that my rudimentary sewing machine skills are up to the task. I can;t make knit things, since they require a serger, but this, this I am going to tackle. But different color and applique. i am thinking loden green with red-capped mushrooms. Funny how those are the mushroom we most often see in kids' books, toys, etc., and yet I think they are poisonous...why I am I writing this down? So I'll do it. I think. Hope. Whatever.

Back.

2008-08-04T08:00:00.000-07:00

Flipper emerging from the surf. The ocean was surprisingly-and excitingly-rough for Topsail, which meant closer supervision, but also meant good swimming, boogie boarding, etc.

Aunt Kathryn, and "the little sister I never had."

My beach tent, once scoffed at, now adored by millions. Or, just us. Seriously, this thing is GREAT, no umbrella to be uprooted by stiff wind and risk impaling a hapless sunbather, no holes to dig, just sheltered shade. No lawsuit from the impaled.

They have bread in their hands. We waited for one of the more aggressive birds to rip a finger off, but it never happened. And if it had...I would have captured it and posted it immediately.
Shark tooth not found by Flipper, but coveted.

Walkway from our cottage to the beach. Note sea grass (not sea oats) that keep the dunes in place...why?

For exhausted turtles to wend their way from the ocean to the spot they hatched and lay eggs, eggs that would be uncovered, counted, and reburied. This happened on our dunes the last night we were there. 50 eggs.

Sea turtle tracks.

Beach. Family. Fun.

2008-07-25T08:00:00.000-07:00

I have been absent AND remiss at blogging this week. After a plague of migraines (one a day for 8 days in a row), I took Wednesday off from work, had the best day EVER doing a little cleaning, walking the dogs WITHOUT a whining child in tow, eating lunch out with my sister...and so on. I tried hard not to wish too much that that WAS my life every day...a little cleaning, a little dog-time, and a nice lunch out with another adult. Then I got back to work. And reality.

We are going to the beach on Sunday; THE beach, my favorite, the one where we spent a week every August from the time I was 3 until I was 18. As I have written before, living in the same are where I grew up is utterly fascinating at times, as I have the chance to revisit my childhood over and over again. This beach trip is no different, mostly because time has pretty much stood still there. Little houses, many with the original pine paneling that is so reminiscent of my grandmother's kitchen, a shaky old pier, white sand, and us. Luckily, even though we all drive each other a bit crazy at times, our family exists without drama. No worries about the potential for drunken brawls or scratchy cat-fights in the kitchen. Just a new puzzle, that we will start and quickly lose interest in finishing, the endless quest for shark teeth, sand, sun and shrimp. And swimming. Then Kathryn will return to Maui, where she will start wrapping up her life there in preparation for a year or so back here, traveling extensively for yoga. She has started her own blog, but it hasn't got more than one entry yet. I will link to it in the future. Below, pictures from earlier trips to Topsail. And believe me, about a million new pictures next week.

At the south end of the island at low tide. No people. Lots of empty space. We wander here for hours.

Buoy at low tide. VERY low tide.

Flipper exactly 2 years ago. She used to have very very curly hair...adn I miss it. This picture is also on the "Be Present" website. It is a company that sells yoga clothing. And...it still fits!!

Sand pit. And, what remains to this day my favorite bathing suit of Flipper's EVER.

I Love You Berry Much

2008-07-16T08:13:00.000-07:00

Flipper is In Love with her teacher. And, because she runs a small day camp from her house, Flipper can be near the object of her Attraction every single day. It is precious, this adoration, and I remember it vividly from being a little person myself. Now she feels the need to turn her love into action, and so brought blackberries last week for her teacher, and all the kids ate them on top of their morning snack of granola. Every morning Flipper runs to her, and Patricia picks her up and hugs her. I love seeing how happy Flipper is with other adults unrelated to our family. this morning we made blueberry mini-muffins and carefully put them in a small basket for her to transport to Patricia's house, where, hopefully, the other kids will devour them at some point during the day. The muffin recipe is the best one I've ever tried, and so I will share it here:

2 cups flour

3 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup sugar

(sift together in a bowl)

in a separate bowl, mix together:

1 cup milk

1 egg

1/3 cup vegetable oil

Add to dry ingredients, mix gently, then fold in 1 cup of blueberries, or any other fruit, really. Bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes or so. Less if you made mini-muffins like we did. I love old cookbooks from the 1950's and 60's; part of me is always astonished at about 3/4 of the recipes in there, and fascinated at the same time. I mean, does anyone eat pot roast anymore? But the above came from an old McCall's cookbook, and it really is a fail-proof recipe.

Finished muffins. I sprayed the whole tray with that strange cooking spray-flour mixture, Baker's Secret, and they fall right out, and wash right up with no burned on anything, like blueberry juice.

Flipper packing the muffins for delivery. I am struck, suddenly, with how grown up her hands look, no longer like very plump starfish. Another remnant of babyhood fades away...

Creating the creative genius

2008-07-15T06:56:00.000-07:00

On Saturday Flipper and I went to the thrift store to drop off a bunch of stuff, including the 1970's smoked glass and brass chandelier that resided above the dining room table in my new abode. I love this particular store. Love it. And, Shanna does too! At any rate, we also picked up a new blanket for Sophie to tear apart and suckle, and I bought a bunch of books. Usually, the book selection is pretty hit-or-miss, but there were some good ones this week, and I added to my large parenting advice shelf with this one:

"The Nurturing Parent: How to Raise Creative, Loving, Responsible Children"
by John S Dacey, Alex J Packer

And I'm glad I did. It is really, really good. It puts into words what I want for Flipper, to be creative. And by that I do not mean "be artistic" or "good at music" or something like that. What I mean, is that I want her to be a creative thinker. Why? Because it enables you to be a problem-solver, and gives you the ability to think fast, and land on your feet throughout life's many trials and tribulations. These are traits and skills that I think are vitally important, and help one stay out of trouble, or deal with it as it arises.

The book encourages parents to let their children explore what they want, keep their room as messy (or clean) as they want, and to think for themselves, even when their ideas and opinions run counter to yours. Many of the things suggested by the book we already do (no coloring books, lots of options for creating) and some are ideas we'll explore, like specific problem-solving exercises, although she is too young yet for these. But I must confess: I might have a prblem with a seriously messy, chaotic, unorganized room. And after one night on the floor on the old dog bed, it is back in mine. Unlike me, she doesn't get hot at night! I turn off the AC at night and we sleep with the windows open and a small fan on us. She edges closer and closer, and I push her away, and then she gets closer and closer and I get hotter and hotter...But I don't think it is even remotely hot yet! Does anyone but me remember how awful it was last summer, day after day of brutal heat?

A Bad Day. Subtitle: I miss you and so will be evil

2008-07-11T07:10:00.000-07:00

Christ, was yesterday an awful day. As so often happens, I figure it all out...way too late. Even though, frankly, I think I drive Flipper bonkers most of the time with my lazy, passive parenting, as well as being the Decider in our household, I forget, because I am so used to her happy independence, that she actually WANTS and NEEDS to be with me. Even though I drive her crazy. I leave for work a good hour before she awakens. I pick her up at 2, and we generally spend the rest of the afternoon and evening together. But this week, for some reason, she has been having more and more mini-meltdowns, completely unrelated to the humid weather, ,and things are generally a nightmarish screaming fit/whinefest from the minute I arrive to pick her up. You would think she would be HAPPY to see me. After all, it has been something like 16-18 hours since we last laid eyes upon each other. I am happy to see HER. But instead, it is Punishing-Child that waits for me. Yesterday Keith picked her up and brought her home at 4. She was a nightmare. I finally lured her to the pool, where the water made her happy...for about 30 minutes. But then she just lost it, had only the second tantrum of her whole life, screaming, crying, trying to slam her door...it went on and on. And, frankly, there is only so much I can take of anyone screaming. How much? Well...not a lot. So I finally freak out, she cries, and then as though a light switch gets flipped, she turns sweet and tractable and easy once more. A good supper, a long discussion about dinosaurs and how sad it is that they eat each other, a little BBC documentary watching on my bed, and then sleep. This morning she cried again when I left for work, and my mom was going to pick her up and take her to the pool after school today (her pool, not mine) but Flipper said No. Just me for pick-up. The irony is that she won't be any better behaved to have ME get her and spend the rest of the day with her, but I'll happily do it anyway. I feel so sorry for her when she is, clearly, at her wit's end. So here's hoping this afternoon is better than yesterday's. We both need it.

Rroarrrr

2008-07-10T06:20:00.000-07:00

Lions are my favorite big cat. What, you don't have a favorite big cat? I do. And a favorite bird, marine mammal, dog...and so on. Flipper is partial to tigers, herself. Even her favorite shark is the tiger shark. I try not to fall into sappy sentimentality, but I simply cannot resist this one. WARNING: Might bring tears to eyes.
WARNING #2: MUTE your sound unless you LIKE Whitney Houston.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MnMPEG-duVo&feature=related

I wish I knew how to make the YouTube square show up here so you can click it tostart it playing, but hopefully this will suffice. And anyone that wants to let me know HOW to do so, please feel free!

Sleep-Over

2008-07-09T07:33:00.000-07:00

In my endless quest to save energy/keep power bill to 45.00 or below all summer (I'm a third of the way there!) I open the house at night to catch (hopefully) the cooler night air, and shut it in the morning, before turning the AC to 78. Sometimes the AC won;t even come on until 2 in the afternoon! Anyway, sleeping with Flipper's burning hot body beside me is tough. But yesterday, it was solved, at least temporarily, and serendipitously as well. I went to Costco and bought two new dog beds with Nightmare 1 and 2. They are HUGE, cool cloth patterns, zip-off covers, and filled with cedar. I had a memory flashback to childhood, and the first (and most beloved) of our many pets, our fat hamster, Gypsy. She was so named because she had a hole in her ear, and a tiny gold ring would have been precious. My dad brought her home from his lab. he did this several more times, culminating in a a huge white rabbit named Buttercup. Buttercup was Kathryn's. So, no doubt my dad saved them from God-knows-what kind of fate as lab animals, and they lived happily at our house. Anyway, the smell of the fresh cedar shavings reminded me so much of Gypsy, and how much we loved her.

Back to my CURRENT life and story...I immediately tore of the mangled coves from the old beds and threw them away. But Flipper wanted me to keep the old interior beds for her to sleep on. Remember the summer of "yes"? I have kind of figured out her current sleep-desire stage: in my room, but not in my bed. Near me, but not beside me. And what better way to achieve this than sleeping on an old dog bed? The below pictures are what the floor of my bedroom looked like last night, and right up until 5 this morning, when she abandoned the dog bed and climbed up beside me.

Bugs. DEET. Popsicles. Summer.

2008-07-08T06:56:00.000-07:00

Last night a friend and I sat on my front steps and watched out children crouch inside a huge hula hoop, eating Popsicles. And in a flash, we both had the same thought: this is it. This is summer, all rolled up into a sticky package. Finally, (due to our travels it has happened later), we have reached the Zen state of summer, a time when I say A LOT of "yesses" and let Flipper fall asleep much later than I ever would during the school year, when she can watch more than one 20-minute animal DVD, although it was disconcerting, in Hawaii, to hear the little factual nuggets she would drop into our beach outings. Things like, "This is where tiger sharks live!" or "Piranhas don't live here! I think..." Anyway, summer IS here, and it is good. We are not suffering from the hideous drought like last year, although the mosquitoes have got to go. I have many freaky hang-ups, and putting almost anything on my skin is one of them. No lotion, no sunscreen, no bug repellent. And not because I think they will give me cancer, although I do think we go way overboard on sunscreen, but because I cannot stand the way it feels on my skin.

Once, when driving from here to Oregon and back one summer, I stopped at a gorgeous campsite in Montpelier, Idaho (that is one beautiful state, people) and purchased, on the advice of the owners, some seriously hard-core bug stuff. Not just mosquitoes out there, but incredibly aggressive, noisy, painful-biting black flies. The tiny jar was incredibly effective. In fact, although it was about 3 ozs, I still have some left. AND...it still works, 13 years later. Why? Well, because it is 99% DEET. You actually read that correctly...99%. Read your can of "OFF" one of these days and you will see why that percentage is so shocking. But, once again, I digress. I love these days, even though they spin by faster and faster week by week. In three weeks we will be back at the beach. I have the incredible fortune, although at times it feels like MIS-fortune, to directly experience my childhood over and over again. Same town, same pool, same beach. Until then I will try to overcome my hatred of bug-spray enough to go blackberry picking.

Come sail away with me...

2008-07-07T07:05:00.001-07:00

On Friday afternoon, my parents picked Flipper up from daycamp and we went sailing for the week-end. Kind of. It wasn't a real sailing trip (that will come soon, I have no doubt) but a mini-adventure instead. My dad, who has been sailing something like 40+ years, now owns a 35-foot Tartan. He started out with a tiny Sailfish, then graduated to a Hobie Cat 14, then a 16, then a 28' Tartan, and now this one, named Dash. I think this information is meaningless unless you know something about sailboats. Anyway, he has been begging me to come sailing with Flipper, and over the week-end we went. Needless to say, she loved it. We stayed at his marina for the most part, watched the Croaker Festival parade in Oriental, whereupon Flipper got pelted with an entire Halloween's worth of candy, and on Saturday afternoon, took the boat out for a few hours, anchored and ate dinner, and returned to the dock around 9 pm. So now a "real" trip is on her (our) future, a week-end when we go somewhere else, moor or stay at another marina, and sail home.

Asleep in the V-berth (at the front of the boat).

Heading out of Brown's Creek into the Pamlico Sound.

At the helm with Grampy. Look how big the wheel is!!

On the deck, looking towards the stern of the boat.

Looking for something; I know not what.

Swim Meet Hell. To me, that is.

2008-07-03T06:08:00.000-07:00

I am going to complain, date myself as old and out-of-touch, and be a total bitch ALL AT THE SAME TIME!!! There is, in the press, endless stories about nightmare sports parents, ones that are banned from their kids' games because they act like such assholes, as though some soccer or baseball or football were actually important, as though their kid is on the path to a college scholarship and then a career as a pro-when there are many more dollars available for academic scholarships and something like .001% of any high school athlete even makes it to the pros, but do you think these parents are encouraging their kids to stop playing so many sports and study more? Why, of course not. Never. So. They are so invested, so over-involved; when and how and why has this happened? Anyway. Back to my story.

Yesterday evening Flipper and I went to a local pool (a private club) to meet some friends and frolic in the waters. But when we pulled up, I noticed about ten million cars and suddenly, I remembered. It's Wednesday. Swim meet. Blessedly, our club has two pools, a rec pool and one for swim meets, practice, etc. And those ten million cars, 90% of which were mini-vans? They had that dreadful paint stuff on the back windows, all proclaiming how great THEIR team is, complete with little graphics and cheerful slogans. People. Get a grip. This is a small-time, summer league swim meet. Don't sully your poor car as though it is some sort of automotive cheerleader. But it got worse. I dragged Flipper over to watch for a few minutes, as it brought back a rush of memories for me, after all, I was on this pool's very same swim team when I was just 5. But it was so crowded with millions of parents-not kids-either aimlessly milling about in a futile search for their kid, or, more shockingly, working. Now, these meets need a certain number of volunteers. You need to have timers. And a runner, that picks up the timer's cards after each heat and takes it to the tally table, where the scores a tallied. And one or two parents to write on the backs of the ribbons, if you even get those anymore.
But there were parents selling food-candy and pizza, and kids wolfing down candy bars in the misguided belief that it will give them some sort of "edge" in the pool. Tons of fathers with sullen kids trying to squirm away from unwanted advice from a parent that has probably never swum more than 4 laps in a row in his life. And most irksome to me, there were "official chaperons." WTF? Their job, and I use that word loosely, is to get the kids to the chairs where they sit awaiting their heat. Folks, this is a distance of, oh, maybe 10 yards. AT THE MOST. Now, for the very very youngest, I can see this. Maybe. But 11-12 year olds? Give me a break. Those kids can pay attention to the meet, listen to the loudspeaker announcing the upcoming event, figure out how much time they have before their presence is required, learn how to judge time accurately, be responsible for making it thereon time in order to NOT disappoint teammates and their coach, and on and on. Instead, they are treated like babies that cannot think and act for themselves. Miss your heat because you weren't paying attention? Too bad-and you probably won't ever do it again. What is this shepherding kids through things they can easily do on their own? Why are there a million parents milling about-sit down and watch!!
What is happening out there? And the sad part is that it makes me want to opt out more and more from these kinds of things because people take it so seriously, want it To Be Meaningful. But it isn't. It can't be, and it shouldn't be. I swam on that team for 13 years, and for all four years of high school. Looking back now, no meet from my childhood stands out at all. Not a single one. My mom was one of the ribbon-writers, and my dad might saunter down from the tennis courts to watch if he felt like it (like all the other dads) and while we were waiting to swim, we played, talked, sat, gossiped...all by ourselves. Just kids. It was FUN. Our coach would drift by, saying, "A few more minutes, girls." And we would get ourselves the whole 10 yards, to the cheap plastic chairs, all by ourselves.

And Flipper? No interest in being on any kind of team, "because it will make me sad if I lose."

Home again, home again.

2008-06-30T07:49:00.000-07:00

Back. Sadly. Usually, on about Day 13 of a vacation, I am ready to be home, surrounded by my own things, my dogs, my friends, etc. But not this time. Instead, I was ready to sell everything I own, and take Flipper with me back to Hawaii to live forever. It is hard to convey just why I find the islands so incredible, but all I can say-and this is coming from a pretty committed atheist/agnostic-is that there is a powerful spiritual pull from the minute I get there to stay, learn the language (which I love) learn the legends, the history, the culture...I love it all, except for the food. I took over 400 pictures, and will torture you all with only a few.

Highlights of the trip: Kaua'i. Really, really beautiful. I have been to three of the islands, and they are all different. My sister, who has been to all that you are allowed to go to (two are off-limits) said that many people compare it to different children in the same family; you love them all equally, but for very different reasons. Anyway, we stayed in Hanalei, the last tiny town before the Na'pali coastline. Every day we took Flipper to the beach where the woman in South Pacific washed that guy out of her hair. And, I think, her life. The beach there was perfect. And, apparently, quite dangerous. Actually ALL the beaches in Hawaii are sketchy, most have warnings (especially on Kaua'i) and it is an ocean you can never ever turn your back on.

Morning in Honalei.
Pools in lava rock near Princeville, on Kaua'i. Spent 3 hours clambering around the rocks, jumping in and out of the pools. They are very deep and very clear, most have fish and sea urchins living in them. Flipper was thrilled to observe these living aquariums.
Lumaha'i Beach. Film location of South Pacific.

The next perfect place: Hana. A tiny tiny town on the east coast of Maui, very remote, very beautiful. When we travel we stay in small rentals in people's houses instead of resorts or hotels. I encourage this because you often end up in a neighborhood, part of the town, and get a better feel for what it is like to live somewhere, and not just visit. So, for your viewing pleasure, some pictures. And a fantastic high school sign as well.

Heavenly Hana. The small island in the background is Ulu'a Island, and, interestingly, it has several palm trees on top pf it. How did they get there?

I think this is Wainapanapa State Park. Rugged, wild coastline. Much of Hawaii's coastline looks like this, not long, white sandy beaches.

We found a ripe coconut near a beach, dropped a large-ish rock on it multiple times to split it open...and then ate it.

And one school.

Last highlight/best meal: Mama's Fish House in Pa'ia. STUNNING. Incredible. This thing you see below? THAT WAS MY DESSERT!! It is called "The Tahitian Pearl". After eating there, I didn't eat again for close to 24 hours. Even my sister "put away the groceries", as my father would say.

Flipper cried the whole way to the airport. The trip home was exhausting beyond belief, and we arrived home at 6:30 p.m., went to sleep at 9...and Flipper woke up (after much prodding) at 11:45 the next morning. 15+ hours!!!

Ain't No Place I'd Rather Be...

2008-06-13T16:36:00.001-07:00

...and for all you Grateful Dead fans, I'm NOT talking about Tennessee.

Trip From Hell to Heaven

2008-06-11T06:47:00.000-07:00

We are here. Finally. Missed flight on Monday, due to my (and the airline) error...BUT it could not have turned out better. Flipper, who was all dressed in her travel clothes and had to get out of the car, handled the disappointment incredibly well. Cried for about 10 seconds, then moved on. We spent the day at the pool with a friend's children; her husband died last week and so she needed some time. The kids had a blast, then we spent the rest of the day with them, dinner, etc. TUESDAY, a day later, we made it to the airport, and there, preparing to board the flight to Salt Lake City, we saw a playground friend, with her 4 year-old son, her mom, and her 7 month old. They were seated in the row in front of us. AND, in an almost unheard-of stroke of luck, Flipper and I had an empty seat in between us, so Atticus came back and they kept each other occupied for the entire 4.5 hour flight, while Nicole and I talked and read and expended very little energy trying to keep them occupied. What luck! What fortune! And let me say now how nice the SLC airport is. Had an almost-healthy lunch, then got back on for the 6.5 hour flight to Maui. Long. Hard. Boring, but blessedly relieved by a most entertaining seatmate (no, not Flipper), an extremely attractive and incredibly youthful-looking 84 year old woman from Sun City, AZ, on her way to Maui with her daughter and son-in-law. She is very well-traveled, but this was her first trip to Hawaii. Finally, after 5 hours of endless clouds, LAND HO!! Visibility was incredible; we could see most of Maui and Lanai...and then we were there. Windy (which I love) hot, and dry. We headed to Kathryn's condo..but then she passed it and kept driving to...The Ritz Carlton, for a surprise night's stay. Oh, I could so easily get used to this!! Pool, hot tub, sushi...bed at 7. Now it is 4 a.m. and I am basically counting the minutes until I can justify coffee from room service. Pictures tomorrow. I think.

Wrap-Up Before Travels

2008-06-06T05:33:00.000-07:00

I promised I wouldn't do it last summer...but now I am unable to resist. It is hot. Unbearably so. And yet I want to be outside because I am an outside type of person, and need it badly. I hate that I can't open the windows at night right now, because it turns our bedroom into an oven, and Flipper's boiling hot 5 year-old body pressed against me all night basically pushes me right to the edge, of sanity, or reason...of something. So...I will not promise, as I ever-so-foolishly did last summer, to not whine about the heat. Although, it would have taken a human much much stronger than me not to freak out on the double whammy of hideous temperatures coupled with a scary drought. But enough!!

On Monday, Flipper and I make our fourth, and probably last, trip to Maui. Kathryn won't stay there forever, and the main reason we go is to spend time with her, and so we would travel to wherever she lives in order to do so. I can't get excited until the flights go off without a hitch, we survive 12 or so hours in the air, and connections are made, we don't lose anything, and we coordinate successfully with her on Maui. She is is Park City, UT, for a yoga workshop. We fly into Salt Lake the day she is leaving; our planes take off from Salt lake within 2 hours of each other. But she goes to Phoenix and then on to Maui; we fly from Salt Lake straight to Maui. If all goes well, she will land 25 minutes before we do, and we will rendezvous via cell phone outside. I am attempting something new: a trip to Maui without checking any luggage. It may or may not work; I fear stressing over packing our little roll-ons, and then having to check them at the last minute. Which will enrage me, as it means that I could have packed a larger bag all the while. If her plane gets stuck in Phoenix, Flipper and I will collect her car from the lot, and go ahead to her condo, about an hour from the airport. A shuttle will get her there later, or we will pick her up the next day. If we get stuck in Salt Lake, she will return for us. So when people ask me if I am excited, well the truth is, I am. But I am mostly nervous right now about the flights. her computer is dead; so I will be taking mine along. I will post often from Maui, with pictures, of course! If any reader wants postcard to them or their kid(s), email me with your address! I LOVE to send postcards!! Now, a few images of where we'll be in a week... The small bay you see in front of the house is a place where tons of turtles come in all day to sleep in little coral caves. It is fun snorkeling and seeing them up close. Flipper will be able to do it this year for the first time.

See the little sailboat? The island in the background is Lanai.

Empty beach...

Flipper and her beloved Aunt Kathryn.

Just for you, Diane, a Ritz-Carlton golf cart!!

Doctor's Visit

2008-06-04T06:12:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I took Flipper to the doctor's office for her 5 year old WCC. That stands for "well child check", in case you were wondering. Our doctor's office had moved; it is a green building now. brand new, the gentle sounds of ocean waves playing in the background...at any rate, Flipper is healthy. Blessedly. I am very, very aware of how lucky we are that everything in her little body works. Breathing, eating, feeling, seeing...it all WORKS. 42" tall, 41.5 lbs. Solid little bunny! Right at the 50% mark, which is a far cry from her babyhood, when she was in the 15% for several years. They always ask me about milk consumption, which I find irksome, because we don;t drink milk, although she eats cheese, yogurt, etc. No sunscreen lecture, thank god. Debated booster shots, decided to go for 2 of the 3 recommended. (MMR and chicken pox, for those of you wondering). Why chicken pox? Well, because her dad and I have never had it, and were she to catch chicken pox, well, let's just say that it is not a disease you want to have in adulthood. Anyway, she just sat on the table passively while they stabbed her legs with huge needles. No tears, no flinching, no nothing. The two nurses were amazed; they had wanted me to hold her arms and I had refused, since I knew she would be fine and able to control herself. On the way out she said, "I wanted to get a shot so I could know what it feels like." Of course I had to call my sister and relate this to her and she said, "Great. Another member of our family that wants to try something out so she knows how it feels."

The other funny/disturbing thing was that every time we go I have to fill out this long, multi-page developmental survey. I think it is part of some sort of study, but I don't know for sure. At any rate, there was a question you were supposed to ask your child,and then record their answer. The question was, What do you do when you are hungry? "Acceptable" answers were, "Get a snack." "Go to the refrigerator." "Eat." What did Flipper say? "I wait." So that wraps it up: a stoic child that is denied food. But still healthy!!

Lunch and sleep. Not necessarily in that order...

2008-06-03T09:44:00.000-07:00

I am going to enter some sort of sleep-Olympics one of these days, when someone somewhere decides that rally being able to saw some z's is a worthy competition. I think the Olympics need some help. Last night I fell into a deep slumber at 8:15, woke at 2, read until 4, then passed out again until 6:20. Then I leaped up, took a 2 minute shower, and made some coffee, before turning to one of my least-liked Mommy-chores: the packing of Flipper's lunch BASKET (not BOX). The preparation of nice, yummy healthy food fro her was yet another of those things I thought I would love to do...but the reality turned out to be not so fun, or rewarding, or interesting. This "list" which has the title Fantasy vs. Reality has so many entries that I can't remember them all. At any rate, as I sliced up carrots and celery, carefully poured boiling water into her Thermos so it would get hot BEFORE the leftover noodles were nuked and dumped inside, and placed a little cloth napkin on the bottom of the basket, I thought how very slack I would be if Flipper's nice organic lunch were ever compared to THESE NUTTY MOTHERS!! This is what passes for Caring and Concerned Mother in Japan. Talk about too much time on your hand!! What are they thinking? Imagine opening up your cute little bento box to the following:

Bird made of rice colored with egg yolk, atop a lettuce nest and hard-boiled eggs. Another one...

Tempura shrimp "mermaid" swimming in a noodle/veggie salad. I would eat this one.

Now, part of me gets it, I really do. The desire for creativity, regardless of the form it takes, the satisfaction of making something for you child that is unique, and, in this case, pretty healthy, but then my Understanding Brain clicks off, and I am left pretty speechless. But lest you think this is confined to the Far East, let me use Exhibit A as evidence to the contrary: Wow. Vegan, too.

Cat and fish. Also clever!! AND vegan.

These lunchboxes are actually quite cool; made with the "good" plastic and reusable over and over again. They are sold through http://www.laptoplunches.com/ online and also locally at Twig, in Chapel Hill. I have yet to purchase one for Flipper, as I prefer plastic you can see through. Plus, I am not ready to give up her precious basket yet. And when I DO make the switch...well, let's just say that good old Mozart probably WON'T be making an appearance...

But you gotta love it!!

Utter randomness

2008-06-02T07:46:00.000-07:00

Just a few random scenes/thoughts from the week-end:

Out to eat with friends Friday night at Talulla's in Chapel Hill, right on Franklin street beside Elaine's. We all sat in the window, which is only about 2 feet-yet separated by glass-from a small table for two outside. It came to my attention that one of UNC's young basketball stars was eating there with his girlfriend. NOTE: I would have never recognized him on my own. Being a Duke fan and all that. Actually, I wouldn't recognize a current Duke player either. At any rate, the chance to play paparazzi for the first (and probably only) time in my life wasn't going to slip through my fingers, so I used Kelli's I-phone to snap Tyler Hansborough. He looked normal...until he stood up. Then he looked HUGE.

Way to go, I-Phone!!

We spent the rest of the week-end in and out and in and out of the pool. The water is so cold I can only plunge in to cool off, and then I get out as fast as I can, to coach Flipper from the comfort of my lounge chair. She can really swim!! You should see her!! Saturday Rose and the boys came over and we talked while they frolicked. Seamus was hilarious in all of his gear: water wings, goggles...but he is still quite cautious and doesn't trust the water wings to hold him up. I also got a good shot of her newest, Ronan. We call him RoRo. Look at his plump adorableness!!

He has this serious look quite a bit. Precious.

Flipper scampered up the steps to the kiddie pool, tripped, and ate it, falling down 3 steps and tearing the skin off her knees and the side of her foot. I am always impressed with her ability to scream for a minute, and then calm down. Perhaps having a mother that once said, "Life is full of pain, so get used to it" after enduring relentless pestering about some teeny tiny paper cut pushed me over the edge.

Anyway, I led her over to our towels, and picked one up and she REALLY screamed then, "NO!! Not with my towel!! BLOOD STAINS!!!" How many five year olds are so ready for laundry? I convinced her that HER towel was, indeed, going to be the one we used because it is RED, and she got back in the water. Can't keep her out, really.

I finally turned the air-conditioning on during the day this week-end. I was going to try and make it until we left, but couldn't do it. My power bill last month was 42.00 and I had hopes of that continuing until late June. Growing up in a brick ranch right here in the Triangle, my mother turned the groaning window unit on only when it got above 97 degrees. We spent many a night on the floor of our room, or, once, on the kitchen floor. Remember how you said, when you were a kid, that you wouldn't grow up to to do blah blah blah and then you find yourself doing the exact same things? Why is this?? So it is with me and the heat/AC. Chilly in the winter (64 degrees), hot in the summer (75 degrees).

I am going out today to buy a Father's Day gift for my dad, a mini-fridge for his Man-Hut. It is a joint present from my sister and me. I will be in Maui with her for Father's Day, so my boss is going to deliver it. Fun!! I am also getting a hefty fan at the same time. The downstairs of the townhouse is incredibly cool, fully shaded by hardwoods all summer long, but as the day progresses, the upstairs gets warmer and warmer, until by bedtime it is stuffy and icky. trying to sleep while hot is the worst. But a fan makes me think I can do it...we'll see.

Flipper, stroking hard for the finish.

Ripple (in still water)

2008-05-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

Small children, they can be deep. Very deep. Regular little philosophy PhD's, they are. I remember (vaguely) philosophy classes in college, where it was a popular subject with cool, pot-smoking professors. How we would pick apart Sartre, Nietzsche , Heidegger! Hours and hours of entertainment! But how did THEY get to be so well-known for commenting on the little things, making them larger and more important and, as a result, more depressing? But back to the wisdom of small children, often in the form of a question...that may be isn't really a question after all!!! On our walk yesterday, which should, perhaps, be more accurately renamed The Whinefest, since the entire 30 minutes it takes us to complete the loop with the dogs is accompanied by this:

(high-pitched whining child's voice) I don't want to go on a walk todaayyyy!!

(Gentle, kind adult voice) This is part of taking care of our pets. They need exercise every day. See how happy they are?

My legs hurt!!

Life is full of pain! Get used to it, and go away inside your head to your Happy Place!

It's too far/too cold/too steep/too long/too whatever!!

We're almost there!! (now voice touched with note of exasperation)

Why do we have to do thhiisss???

BECAUSE I SAID SO!!

How quickly we (I) devolve. Anyway, after Flipper finally realized that I did, indeed, mean it when I told her that there would be no visit to the pool if the whining did not immediately cease and desist, we had a fairly pleasant time. We came to a wide, slow-moving part of Bolin Creek, and every day, at the exact same spot, there is a loud splash as something escapes into the water, fleeing our approach. Wisely, I might add. I thought it was a large frog, but I am no longer convinced this is the case. yesterday I saw a few bubbles, and ever-widening ripples, which makes me think it is something bigger.

Flipper silently registered the ripples as well, and several minutes later asked her "Deep Thought" question: "The small little waves in the water in a circle...what does it mean?"

Now, my answer could take one of many forms:

A Grateful Dead song, and why it was Rare, and yes, Mommy saw/heard it once. I think. Hard to rmeemebr those little details like set lists. OR

"The ripples are a reflection of the disruption of the water's surface tension..." OR

"The little waves are symbolic of how our actions affect those around us...let's talk about the butterfly and the death of a far-away star..." OR

"The ripples show humanity's interconnectedness with nature and how we are all One with the Universe..." OR (my personal favorite)

"They don't mean a damn thing."

No, I didn't actually say ANY of the above out loud, as I am nicer than that! No, really, I am!!

Instead, I tried to deduce what SHE meant (as opposed to the ripples). And what SHE wanted to know was what made them. Easy answer, though perhaps not quite as fun as the above.

In another example of Her Deepness, I asked her once, just for the hell of it, what happened to people when they die. I mean, isn't that the ultimate question, the biggie, the one most people think they have the answer to, but no one really does? I couldn't wait to hear her take on something that she has no concept of... I mean, it hardly stops the rest of us from having all the answers does it? Her response? "They go around and around the world and then come back again in someone else." Frankly, I found this a terrifyingly accurate description of reincarnation...something that us non-church-going Unitarians don't believe. No idea where she got that little piece of wisdom. Perhaps better NOT to know.

Brief Beach Wrap-Up. And something funny...

2008-05-27T06:29:00.000-07:00

Cannot resist sharing this typo with all of you...

Hey, Trader Joe's? Little "heads up" for your labeling folk...The "D" for "dried" should definitely come BEFORE the "T" for "tomato"...because "STD" has a very different connotation than "SDT"...

Beach great. Weather perfection, except for some icky Saturday morning rain and clouds. Birthday girl finally, finally, made it through a party for herself without hysterical sobbing.

Look at the color of that water!!

The birthday girl. I bought this dress at a thrift store, one I "share" with a fellow blogger-friend, Shanna. I bought it when Flipper was less than a year old, and thought that she would never ever get big enough to fit it. Well, time, as they say, flies. And so here is the dress, and the "baby" that fits it.

Giving the pinata quite the beating with her wooden sword.

Her new birthday t-shirt. Very appropriate for a beach birthday!!

Her "wow"-factor present. You may now refer to her as "Her Royal Frothiness".

Layer upon layer of froth. Needless to say, she loves it.

Pelican fly-over.

A Brief Look Back...

2008-05-21T07:20:00.000-07:00

The beach, it loometh. My boss just gave me his own secret directions to Emerald Isle, guaranteed to shave 4 miles off the trip. I kid you not. I follow them each time, because the directions do two things that are important to me: I avoid driving through Kinston, which is a stoplight hell, and I get out int he country, which I love driving through. So much more interesting!! I have many personal goals, most of which will never see the light of day, but one of them is to drive cross-country without getting on a freeway. This is more difficult out west than it is along the East Coast. At any rate, too much text lately and so some pictures today, of this same trip exactly 2 years ago. I look at her baby face, all plump-cheeked and curly haired, and miss it so much.

Bye bye, baby-face!!

Tired. And more tired.

2008-05-20T07:55:00.000-07:00

I woke up at 3:30 this morning and was unable to fall asleep. I am now semi-conscious, propped up at wok, trying to stay awake until 12:30, when I can leave guilt-free and without looking like a terrible slacker. Oh, it is hard. I will forgo my planned trip to the library, and go home to nap for awhile before rousting myself and the damn dogs for a walk. Today Flipper stays at school until 3, then Keith picks her up and she stays with him until 5. They usually work on his garden, which is huge, together. I have managed, until today, to stay on my listed timetable of Things That Must Get Done. Birthday cake? Baked, wrapped, and frozen. dessert for 18 next Sunday night? Instead if stressing and trying to make some hideously complicated yet spectacular dessert, I spent about 3 minutes on the phone to Sugarland, placing an order for 3 quarts of tiramisu gelato, which will transported encased in dry ice to the beach, where it will be served after dinner with leftover birthday cake. I really, really, want to go to the library, and if not today, there will be no other chance this week to stock up before I leave for the beach. Once there, I will happily relinquish Flipper to the attentions of my mother, who seems to never get enough of her, and I will slump down in my borrowed beach chair and read and read and read. I think there should be a law that all vacation houses be stocked with tons of trashy books and magazines. The Bible in the hotel room bedside table just doesn't cut it, in my opinion. I am waiting for a second wind that isn't coming. So what did I do from 3:30 until 7:30, when I left for work? I wandered about, I read, I made the dough for a batch of cookies, I washed tons of dishes and the cake pans, I drank coffee, I read the paper. Then I got really really tired again, but it was 6:20 and thereby too late to get back under the covers. I cannot fathom, when this happens, two things:
1) How on earth do people with true, hardcore insomnia SURVIVE??
2) How on earth did I survive month after month of broken sleep due to Flipper's own sleep issues?

1. Post on blogger 2. Get back to work...

2008-05-19T05:55:00.000-07:00

I am a huge list-maker type of person. I love to write them out, and I actually follow them. It is an ADD-coping mechanism, and my lists are so simplistic, they look as though they are written for a zombie. For example, this is what Saturday's list looked like. NOTE: I am not making it up or exaggerating.

1. Get up
2. Make coffee
3. Do dishes
4. Start laundry
5. Twig fundraiser/Wellspring (separate shopping list)
6. Meet Rose at Ayr Mount at 11:00
7. Home, rest.
8. Walk dogs
9. Think about supper.
10. Take Flipper to Sugarland. Get a menu from them.

I think you get the idea. I don't do a daily chore list like this every day, but I do weekly ones of tasks, all conveniently broken down into teeny tiny baby steps. It helps my addled, unable-to-focus brain actually get more accomplished than reading magazines and then looking up to discover that hours have flown by and nothing has been accomplished. This week is so busy, so crazy, that I have a Master list, written on card stock, that will stay in my pocketbook (the one I carry, not the one I drive) all week long. I found that this list-making is the best advice out of a whole bunch of advice about dealing with the day-to-day issues of ADD than anything else. I took the drugs, (Adderall, Ritalin, etc.) for awhile, but, frankly, it felt a bit too much like real drugs to me, and even though it helps immensely I still felt just different enough every day to not like it, so I quit before Flipper was a tiny lima bean inside me.

I pray, in my own atheistic way, that this is something she DOES NOT inherit. The only list she has is one that she thinks I am diligent about updating: it is a list of all the things she wants to get for her birthday or Christmas. Telling her to "put it on your list" has reduced the whining and begging in every store we go in IMMENSELY. I become easily irked at those "experts" that want to see ADD/ADHD as some sort of "gift" when the truth is that it is a whole lot of wasted potential and huge expenditures of energy with nothing to show for it at the end of the day, or month, or year. And then you look around and say, Wow. I have achieved nothing, gone nowhere fast OR slow, and probably never will. Quite a downer, actually.

So far, blessedly, Flipper seems to have inherited Keith's incredibly focused, methodical mind, as well as his passion for the details. Once, when I was painting our kitchen, he asked me if I was going to scrub the walls first. I looked at him as if he had suddenly grown an extra nose. Why would I do that?, I asked. I'm just going to paint over it. Poor Keith. For someone as methodical, as UN-in a hurry as he is, I was maddening to him. I am even quite maddening to myself. So it warms the beensy cockles of my heart when I lie on the couch for two hours or more, reading, reading, reading while Flipper sits at her "special area" (kid table and chairs and art supplies) drawing, drawing, drawing. We can stay that way, both of us perfectly content to NOT talk for an hour or more, although she very much wants me to be there in the same room with her, even though we aren't talking. We're just being. It is very, very sweet.

Shocking!! Or not.

2008-05-16T05:42:00.000-07:00

I could write many, many entries on how and why I adore my best friend so much, but I won't. But here is one really, really big reason: she typically takes my advice, even when she doesn't ask for it. For someone like me, who loves to weigh in on pretty much anything but a scale, it is a dream come true, a match made in heaven!! I offer up marital advice, although I can't keep a guy around for more than 2 years or so, I offer parenting advice, even though she has boys and I have a girl and they are as different as "chalk and cheese." She refers to my house as "The tomb" and I think of hers as some sort of auditory hell. I offer it all up...and so often, bless her heart, she takes it. I still find this amazing!!

Anyway, she wanted me to write about my latest brainstorm, and I do so slightly reluctantly, and ask any readers out there to suspend judgement. Or, if it is less than laudatory, withhold it from me!! Since I am sensitive that way. Got that?

OK, here we go: her youngest, my godchild, will be 2 in mid-September. He is healthy, bright, and, as the saying goes, "into everything." He is also very very obsessed with the outlets, cords and plugs in their house. She spends a fair amount of time trying to keep him away from them, and he loves to unplug lights, TVs, appliances...anything he can get his little paws on. Much screaming and banging of head ensues when she tries to "redirect"- a parenting term I hate if there ever was one- and I am also the parent that didn't cover any outlets, never hid any poison, simply because Flipper never even gave closed cabinet doors or wall outlets a second glance. Somewhere I have a photograph of her standing, buck-naked in the dog's (full) water bowl, with a fully exposed outlet about 8 inches behind her. We covered them, but that DID get her attention, and her teeny fingers were able to quickly remove them.

Anyway, this issue Jessica has with Edward was utterly, utterly foreign to me. Did that stop me from offering up some pearls of wisdom? Of course not. It gave me a chance to have someone else use their child as a guinea pig-or lab rat, if you will-for one of my favorite parenting theories: when your kid is fascinated by something potentially dangerous, find a way for them to do it safely. Then, YOU can control it, and THEY have a means of not just getting it out of their system, but potentially learning something useful at the same time!! A win-win if I ever heard of it!! That's why I let Flipper burn every single piece if scrap paper she could find in my car when we were camping, in the belief/hope that it will keep her from sneaking around one day with a pack of matches in her hand.

Anyway, what I suggested-and she followed- was this: get something like power strip and a short electrical cord that is HIS, and his alone. Let him carry it around, plug and unplug to his little heart's content. If he approaches the wall outlets, or lamp cords, whatever, tell him to go get HIS plug and cord. So Jessica, great parent that she is, rummages around in their garage and finds some sort of lamp cord that can be plugged into itself, and gives it to him. And for the first time in a few months, her morning/afternoon/evening isn't ruined by telling him "no", prying his hands off a cord, and his ensuing wails of anger and frustration. THAT scenario has been repeated about a million times a day for the past 3 months, and he continued to try and get to the plugs. And now...power struggle over. Done. I must get her to take a picture of him with his new toy. But that's the point, it ISN'T a toy, because I think children want REAL things, and if possible, I say make a way for themto have them. They are more fascinated with a real cell phone than some sort of plastic, primary-colored one.

Birthday Explanation Part 2.

2008-05-15T07:04:00.000-07:00

So. Back to the sea horse pinata, and Flipper's birthday in general. As I mentioned, she took the Build-A-Bear shut-down quite well. An afternoon with her best friend, being spoiled by me and allowed a fair amount of freedom (go play away from me NOW) seems to have done the trick!!The morning after her little party of two is her precious birthday celebration at school. Why no, we AREN'T allowed to bring in cupcakes. We, the parents, bring some sort of fruit salad, which I will, in my infinite capacity to justify sheer laziness, purchase at a hideously inflated cost from Wellspring. There will be a cake sweetened with applesauce and cinnamon. Note: Flipper hates the birthday cakes there. The teacher will tell a precious story about the day she came to earth, and "chose" Keith and I as her parents (although I think most kids would choose parents that would actually stay TOGETHER) and the other children will each color a picture of a flower inside a blank book for her. Yes, with those blocky rectangular beeswax crayons. Because they are crazy that way!

Then, hopefully, we will leave for the beach, Flipper and me. This bi-annual beach trip is something I don't regularly take part in, because it is basically a large house party with my parents and all of their friends, 6 couples in all. They have been doing this since 1971. I was 3 at the first trip there!! So these people have seen me and my sister grow up. I even work for one of them now, a man that used to watch us run around naked on Topsail. At any rate, I have been to Emerald Isle with Flipper only a few times she was born, even though my mother begs and begs, pays for us to go, etc. Why wouldn't I go? Well, I find it stressful, I dislike feeling as though I have to be The Perfect Parent every single minute, and I don't like house parties, unless it is a group of my friends. And even then I would stress about it. This year, however, she is going to get her way and we will be there. 5 years ago Flipper was born on Memorial Day Sunday, May 25. And this year the 25th falls on another Memorial Day Sunday. When she was born they were all at the beach, as we told no one we were in labor until it was all over. So it is special (to me) to have some sort of repeat of that experience 5 years ago, with Flipper there. A repeat devoid of 42 hours of hard labor. We are going to have a small party that Sunday afternoon, with 3 other little girls that belong to another couple, and my very best friend's two children, because she will be at their condo in Atlantic Beach. We will have pizza (organic, of course), limeade with cherries and umbrellas, play Flipper's current favorite game (even though she is extraordinarily bad at it) Red Light GreenLight. We mix it up a bit by adding Yellow Light, which means run faster than ever, we will mangle the pinata, from which will spill forth little toys and fake jewels but no candy, and I will make, for the third year in a row, this cake*:

Cake two years ago. Ironic, is it not, that I ban Barbie dolls but will purchase this frightful thing? Especially considering that she actually has no legs, but a long, flesh-colored stabby thing instead. These are called Doll Picks. She, (no surprise) loves them. I, (no surprise) take them away after a day or two on the grounds that the stabby thing is dangerous. She, blessedly, falls for it every time.

Cake last year, for her Hawaiian-themed luau party. She cried about 30 times. But the cake was great!

*For anyone wondering, the cake is baked in a Pyrex mixing bowl, which is how you get the domed shape. Then the doll is added, and the whole thing is frosted/decorated. Yes, the doll actually comes naked, and her bra/dress bodice is frosting. I use the chocolate cake recipe from the back of the Hershey's Cocoa tin, as it makes an extremely yummy dense, rich chocolate cake that holds up well for travel, decorating, etc. It also freezes well. This year I will bake it ahead of time, transport it down there and decorate it the day for the party. Then I will take a million pictures and put them on the blog!!

She'll Cry if She Wants To...

2008-05-14T06:52:00.000-07:00

I just ordered a sea horse pinata for Flipper. You know, while at "work." Every year, without fail, I make all sorts of promises to myself (and others) that This Year Will Be Different. That I won't spend money or get all crazy for her birthday. And every year, without fail, some bizarre, latent, Martha Stewart-ish monster rears it's ugly head and I become crazed. And spend money. I was at a luncheon recently with a group of mothers and one mentioned that her son had been given a FISH for a party favor at a recent part. The ENTIRE TABLE recoiled in horror. Except me. I offered it a home in our bubbling tank, and then was informed that it is a "fighting fish" and would therefore KILL my fish. I think they call them betas? Except they SHOULD be called alphas!! A piece of me totally got it, I mean really, who wants to take care of one more thing but ANOTHER piece of me tipped an invisible hat to the the fish-dispensing mommy. I'm a traitor to all mommies everywhere!! I'm sorry!!

So. Back my party woes. The truth is, this is yet one more thing that I thought I would LOVE providing for my little darling BEFORE she turned 3. And, as so often happens, the reality is so much more unattractive. Flipper likes to go to parties a great deal...but when they are for her, well, it just doesn't work out so well. She dislikes being the center of attention, she wants me to hod her so she can bury her face in my neck, and she is too young to grasp that Mommy Has Hostessing Duties that are calling her. Calling her LOUDLY. We have yet to have party for her in which she doesn't cry. So this year, I said (just to myself) "Nope. Not happening." Flipper, who had been entertaining fantasies (emphasize word "fantasy") of a Build-A-Bear party handled the smack-down of her party dreams pretty well. The brutal truth is that she wants presents a lot more than she wants a party. She still plays with her best friend at school, she prefers that one-on-one thing more than a large crowd. So this is what I am going to do. Next Thursday I am going to pick Flipper and her best friend Izzy up from school at lunchtime. Typically, bot girls stay for the "nap" program, which lasts until 3 pm. Then we are going here:

http://www.painttheearth.com/

where the girls can pick out pretty much anything they want to paint, since I am paying for two kids, and not 10.

After that, we'll go either here:

http://www.ilovelocopops.com/ or here: http://www.sugarlandchapelhill.com/ where they can get all jacked up on sugar and giggle and whisper to their little hearts' delight. Then I will transport them to either our house to play, or to a playground before delivering Izzy back to her mom. Note that there is no mention of the sea horse pinata making an appearance...because it's not. Why? Tomorrow.

Flipper and Izzy.

Mother/Child Day (at least at our house)

2008-05-13T06:17:00.000-07:00

Flipper spent all of Mother's Day blissfully unaware that it was SUPPOSED to be all about ME, and thought instead that it was all about HER. I was actually okay with the little present-grubbing monkey; I don't really "get" Mother's Day at all. There was an article in N&O about the woman that started Mother's Day at her church in West Virginia (I think). Anyway, she ultimately came to loathe the crass commercialism that we seem to inflict upon ANY holiday, chiding people for buying cards instead of writing letters, etc. etc.

For a little "compare and contrasting"...well, Mother's Day has become huge. I am rather surprised at all the ads that come out before Mother's Day; I cannot think of one kid I know that can afford to buy their mother jewelry, a vacation, a new camera...The problem with Mother's Day is that it is supposed to be about your child magically appreciating YOU and all that you do for them. But guess what! They CAN'T because they have no perspective! Because they're kids!! So it falls to others to "appreciate" you...or it requires that you simply wait until they have kids of their own, and then the appreciation comes (hopefully) rolling in. And while I am certainly not rejecting the beautiful flowers my sister sent me, I don't expect anything from Flipper, besides a good day together. We achieved that lofty goal by having a bit of a "yes" day. Yes, we can go out for breakfast together, yes, you can get a new pad of drawing paper, why, yes, you can even have icky fried chicken for lunch. And, perhaps best of all for Flipper, she got one of her brithday presents early, something she has been clamoring for for several weeks now, these:

Stockmar block beeswax crayons. They make great swaths of color across the page, don't break, and are used at her school. She was THRILLED. So, yes, it was a bit of a facer, giving HER a present, but it was an icky rainy day, after all. Then we went for walk in the rain, saw a beautiful box turtle, watched it for a few minutes, then returned home for more drawing. She wants to be an artist when she grows up. I can't really imagine braving the throngs of happy graduates and their parents at the local restaurants for Mother's Day, althoguh we did go out for Thai food with my mom that evening. I always give her an orchid for Mother's Day, and often for her birthday as well, which proves my point: I am a lot more appreciative of her NOW than I was when I was 8, and burnt toast in bed was about all we could scrape up. And she loves burnt toast.

Hail Tale

2008-05-12T06:10:00.000-07:00

Late Friday night, actually, early early Saturday morning, the dogs began freaking out. While Sophie, aka "The Idiot" hates thunder and trembles pathetically, Seamus, the other dog, has never been bothered by storms, or, really, much of anything. I, the Lightest Sleeper in the Universe, immediately woke up and waited apprehensively for something, anything, to happen. When I lived in Colorado our dogs woke up one night and began howling. We were mystified, and annoyed, until we heard a rapidly approaching rumbling noise that shook the house then faded away up the valley. Just like you read about, they knew an earthquake was coming. And last Friday, they knew that a crazy, 5-minute hail storm that sounded like our townhouse was being machine-gunned was approaching. It rattled even me, who generally loves extreme weather, thunder, lightning, etc. I was afraid to walk under the skylights (there are 5 in my townhouse), even though Rational Mommy knew they wouldn't shatter. Actually, make that HOPED they wouldn't shatter, and when it was over I went out on the deck to see huge, 2-3" pieces of jagged ice. Idiotically, I neglected to toss a few in the freezer for Flipper to see when she woke up. I almost woke her during the storm To Experience Nature, but wisely thought better of it.
After all, this is a kid that has a hard time rousing herself after 12 hours of sleep for school.!! So a three hour "nap" at night wasn't going to cut it.

Why did I even entertain the thought of a midnight science lesson? A tiny wish to recapture a good, very good, childhood memory of mine. When I was young, we lived in a small subdivision on Hwy. 54. Down the hill and across the creek behind out house was a large field with cows in it. We played there endlessly. One night, my parents woke us up and took us down to the field with a blanket so we could watch the heat lightning that springs up so often in the summer. We lay there for an hour or more, while my scientist dad probably told us how lightning develops, etc etc and my mom told us some terrifying ghost story, a remnant from her camp counselor days. Our dog, a jet-black doberman named Taine, managed to run directly into the side of a large, jet-black COW that was standing, practically invisible, about 20 feet away from us. Much pawing of the ground and stamping of the large hoof followed. We left. And I still remember it more than 30 years later.

Mixed Bag

2008-05-09T06:04:00.001-07:00

Things that make me sad...

Leaving my vacuum cleaner HERE yesterday. Early estimate: 100 dollars PLUS to fix.

Things that make me happy...

The literal fruits of Flipper's labor.

My new, GREEN deck furniture set...(that I assembled in only 90 minutes EVEN THOUGH the directions promised that it would only take me 35 AND only screamed and cursed twice in that time-span!!)

Flipper diligently prepping asparagus for roasting...Oven 425. Asparagus: trimmed. Put on baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil. Shake salt and pepper on top. Roast for 7 minutes or so. Incredibly good.

Keith chasing Flipper while hooping with my big huge hula hoop. Really, impressive athleticism all the way around!!

Last of May Day (I promise)

2008-05-06T08:18:00.000-07:00

I am off to write something original for next week's-actually, 2 weeks away-N&O/website column. Or feature. Or blog entry. Whatever. Flipper's school had it's annual May Day celebration on Saturday. I know I already posted pictures of the kindergarten/nursery May Pole activity last week, but these pictures are so sweet, I just can't resist. Look at the incredibly beautiful basket weave pattern that the ribbons make on the pole. This is a more complicated dance performed by the older kids.

Flipper tries on her flower-wreath.

Arriving at the pole, led by flute players.

Flipper and her best friend. I love this picture!!

Dancing 'round the Pole

Holding the ribbon...

In and out and over and under results in...

THIS is what you get!! Look how beautiful it is!!

Tippity-tap

2008-05-05T07:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I braved the wilds of downtown Raleigh, which was no small feat for someone that actually grew up in Durham, and has been to Raleigh less than 40 times in her whole life. I fear getting lost, and when I am in charge of the world, THERE WILL BE NO ONE-WAY STREETS. ANYWHERE. At any rate..Flipper and I went to Memorial Auditorium to see Riverdance. I kid you not. My old neighbor just emailed me, to laugh at me through the email!!!! Is it cheesy? Well...perhaps, although you could probably say that about most live performances. So. Reflections on Riverdance. It was LOUD. Their tippity tappity clickety clackity little dancing Irish feet were much much louder than I expected them to be. Parts were kind of slow, but most of it was pretty amazing, that they can tap like that.

Flipper was disappointed that this guy wasn't performing: http://www.michaelflatley.com/home.cfm. How did she even know about him? Well, from the DVD we own, a documentary about Riverdance. So she knew the order of performances at the show yesterday, and was quick to feed me little tidbits about what was happening, like when the chorus came out on the darkened stage carrying candles and singing and she leaned over and stage-whispered, "Know what they're holding? CANDLES!!" Um, thanks, Flipper. I can't figure out if the fact that she knew about it beforehand was a good or bad thing; did it contribute to her enjoyment of the show, or detract from it? I think a little of both: She loved knowing what was going to happen next, but nothing was a big surprise.

Flipper was also pretty well-behaved throughout the whole thing, only restless during the music solos. She really just likes to see people dance. Now, of course, she wants to take tap dancing lessons. I was all set to say yes, when she asked, "Do the kids get the dresses like the girls in the show?" After a boring, ten-minute lecture on How-It-Isn't-The-Dress-That-Is-Important, she managed to stick to her guns, convinced that she wants to learn how to tap dance. Me: undecided. I feel like she is too young (and in school for enough hours already) to really want to add another thing to her schedule, such as it is. It is hard to wait wait wait for things, when much of the world around you is yelling go go go!! But I don't think kids need, or really want, a lot of scheduled classes and activities, and yet it is fun, and one of the ways in which we are so lucky, to be able to provide our children with so many varied opportunities for learning and exploring. So we'll see. Might try to talk her into Skipsations instead!

Spring Innocence

2008-05-02T07:34:00.000-07:00

Flipper's class. There have been 6 new kids added since last October!! Look at their adorable, handmade (by the teacher's) felted flower "crowns".

Flipper and her teacher skipping around the May Pole.

May Pole in action. Long, gorgeous, satin ribbons.

Flipper preparing for the dance.

Yesterday I fled work early (blessedly) and went to watch Flipper dance about the May Pole at the school. It was beyond precious; all the children looked so innocent in their white clothes with their little felted flower headbands. One of the big "things" with Waldorf Education is the connection made to traditions and rituals throughout the year. May Day is one of these, as is Michaelmas in the fall, the Lantern Walk and the Spiral of Light. Tomorrow we will go to the school for an all-school celebration of music, dancing, and a picnic. The older students and high schoolers execute much more complicated May Pole dances; weaving the ribbons down the pole in beautiful "woven" patterns. More pictures on Monday...plus a Riverdance update!! Have a good week-end!!

The Bobcat

2008-05-01T06:07:00.000-07:00

Flipper made a full recovery from her intensely whiny, easily-annoyed state of being to...oh, wait that was ME that was easily annoyed. So very often in life I learn and relearn the same lesson over and over and over again. There must be some sort of psychological name for it. It think it is idiot. Why was poor Flipper freaking out, whiny and sad and miserable? Why, for the very same reason she was whiny and crying when she was 6 months old...because she was TIRED. I can never "get" this; that 99% of her problems and high-strung crying fits always always always boil down to two causes: hunger and/or exhaustion. The night after her "awful day" (her words) she slept from 7:40 at night until 7:15 in the morning. As a result, yesterday was heaven. She was full of energy, happy as a little clam. We took a walk after school, then returned to our old neighborhood to have dinner with Rose and Seamus and Baby Ronan. The kids were fantastic, she and Seamus played together without requiring any refereeing, Ronan was content and plump and cuddly...blah blah blah. After supper we went out to the street so Keith (Flipper's dad) could give them rides in his new favorite, albeit temporary "toy".

Gorgeous, no? Can you not smell the testosterone from here? The official Bobcat website actually has this tag line: It's not the size but what you can do with it. Well, what KEITH is doing with it is tearing up the back yard, pushing small trees over, and generally enjoying himself immensely. Seamus was scared during his ride, as the thing is incredibly loud, and Flipper liked it only about 5% more than Seamus did. But then...I DROVE IT UP AND DOWN AND AROUND THE STREET!!! It was great. It was a very very Free To Be You And Me moment. Does any other child-of-the-70's remember the book and album besides me? My fourth grade class actually put the whole book on as a play, complete with all the songs. I look back at that as rather incredible. Somewhere, Marlo Thomas and Gloria Steinham are smiling.

Anyway, the thought of me driving it caused Flipper some sort of gender-defying consternation; she didn't want me to, thought something would happen. What she REALLY meant was, You can't drive that, only Daddy can. Wrong, Missy!! Mommy drove a front-end loader once in Colorado from the warehouse up and down a dirt road, closely supervised by one of the maintenance guys. So when this opportunity opened...I just had to take it.

Balancing Act

2008-04-30T06:43:00.000-07:00

Flipper isn't happy with much right now. She doesn't want to go to school; doesn't want to stay for nap, doesn't want her dad to pick her up on Tuesdays and keep her until dinnertime. I am caught between wanting to MAKE her understand that lifeisfilledwiththingswehavetodo and sheneedstosuckitup and trying to really figure out what she NEEDS right now in terms of home-time/mommy-time/school time and daddy-time. She has no interest in sleeping in her adorable antique bed with the sand dollar sheets, oh no! At night she presses close to me (I find this maddening) and when I ask why she wants to sleep in my bed she says, "I need to be close to you." She doesn't want to go to the playground; she wants to stay/be at home. The afterschool nap program is really what she hates. Part of me thinks, Well, school is a month from being over, make her stay, and the other part of me thinks, Well, school is a month from being over, let her drop out of it. She really DOES NOT like it, and yet I need the extra hour at work. I am done every day around 1:30, but she doesn't get out until 3. Regular kindergarten gets out at 12:30. If I could get her at 1:30 or 2, it would be perfect. But I can't. I fully realize that parents everywhere-and their kids too-struggle with this day-in and day-out. But that doesn't solve MY problems right now. Tomorrow is May Day at the school, which means that the kindergartners will dress in all white and frolic about the May Pole, and then we will all eat lunch in the meadow in front of the kindergarten. Last year she came home with a 102-degree fever. I have a little sneaking feeling that she is also working on getting sick; she hasn't been sick for a long time, and she looks very pale to me. Oh, I hope not!! Now I have 2.5 more hours to decide if I am going to pick her up at 12:30 today or leave her until 3.

Camping Wrap-Up

2008-04-29T06:47:00.001-07:00

Have returned from the wilds of camping with Flipper. It was great. She loved it, and I was heartened. How can I hope that she will take of the world in the future if she isn't out IN it now? Pics below. More words tomorrow. I think.

Waiting for us!! I love the phonetic spelling of my last name,

were we in Italy. Which we're not. (Unfortunately).

An empty site...

magically transformed...

into home away from home. Kind of.

A quick walk to the lake, then back to camp for...

Dinner!! Which required a FIRE!!!

And also required A LOT of tending!!!

Time for bed! (she slept 12 straight hours!)

We slept great...all 3 of us!! this guy was under Flipper's pillow, so we practiced a little catch-and-release in the morning.

Nice, fresh, organic, shade-grown, bird-safe heaven-in-a-cup.

A lloonnnggg hike around the lake...

and a new friend. More catch-and-release.

A quick rest, then MORE NATURE!!

...in the form of a teeny tiny bird's eggshell. Blue with little speckly speckles on it.

More food, then home.

Nature-Girl.

And...we're off!

2008-04-24T10:36:00.000-07:00

Fearless Flipper...forever?

Tomorrow afternoon Flipper and I are heading out into the wilderness to camp for two days, sleeping under the stars, living off the land...no, not really. Try driving to the Uwharrie National Forest, sleeping in our huge new tent, and eating out of our cooler, not to mention drinking our morning coffee freshly brewed in the bathhouse. That is a free little tip, people. Take your cheap Mr. Coffee (an ironic name if I ever heard one, since I bet that it is mostly sleep-deprived WOMEN that brew about 97% of the coffee consumed out of a cup that IS NOT made out of paper) traveling with you, and plug it in for fresh coffee in the morning.

Many years ago, I spent 6-7 weeks driving around America one summer in an ancient Volvo station wagon with my equally ancient dog in one of my many attempts to "find myself." This is a trip I recommend HEARTILY to EVERYONE. And why the Volvo, pray tell? Well, once you fold the back seat up against the front seats, you have a little over SIX FEET of room to stretch out and sleep. If you are 5'6" like me, this is PERFECT. Anyway, I drove many hours each day, stopped at nice little family campgrounds and KOA's at night, mostly because they were happy to have dogs there, and in the morning I would wend my way through the RV's and truck campers to the bathroom, whereupon I would plug in my 14.99 Mr. Coffee and brew a full pot, while the other occupants of the bathroom stared at me. Enviously. I even did this in a few gas station bathrooms as well. Then I poured it into a carafe, and hit the road. Day after day. I would drive, and sing, and talk to Martha (the dog) and stop at random sites across America that caught my eye. Believe me, there are MANY.

I wonder, often, two things: Will Flipper do this one day? Spend many many days, months, years cruising around America, (usually chasing some band), sleeping wherever, having a good time, and a few scary times as well? Will she inherit the wanderlust that my dad, my sister and I all have? Or will she be more of a homebody like my mom and Flipper's dad, enjoying vacations, but not just driving and stopping and driving again? The second thing I wonder...will I actually be able to let her head out and not worry? Or, rather, not worry to distraction? How did my parents DO this? Let us, at times together but usually alone-just...go. Before cell phones, before the Internet. Collect calls from pay phones and very very cheap, cinder block motel rooms. I think they really believed we could take care of ourselves, and deal with any problems that arose. They were right.

How did they get this confidence? By providing a fair amount of freedom to us when we were growing up. Walking to school. Exploring the acres and acres of woods near our home, woods that are long gone now, razed to make way for the explosive growth near 54 and 55. Banning week-end visits home while we were in college, aside from official school breaks. (Though, truth to be told, I could not imagine why ANYONE would want to go home after tasting the glorious freedom of college life). Can I do this with Flipper? Do I even want to? Selfishly, I do not. The worst, most awful part of me totally gets those helicopter parents, the ones that call their kids every ten minutes or so while their kids are in college. I want us to be as close as we are now, just the two of us, living pretty happily together, both physically and emotionally very very close and connected.

But the other part of me, the logic-driven part, wants her to be free, to WANT to travel by herself, to NOT describe her mother(me) as her "best friend" as I would hope her best friend would be a bit closer in age and a little more risk-taking than I am now. The other part of me knows that I might not want to, but I have to. And, then, hopefully, she'll return. Safe and sound. So this week-end, we start. When we (I) first kicked around the idea of camping, she wanted to know if her dad or Grampy would be going with us. I avoided my knee-jerk Ms magazine reaction: WE DON'T NEED SOME GUY TO GO CAMPING WITH US, FLIPPER!!-to actually, thoughtfully, asking her WHY she wanted them to tag along. Answer? She's worried about bears. Where does she GET this stuff?? The irony is that while my dad, the Eagle Scout, could easily create a four-room condo out of a tarp and a roll of twine, Flipper's dad never went camping while he was a kid, and on the last "camping" trip (really an overnight, outdoor party) he threw the tent on the ground and slept on top of it. Why would we bring them? They can outrun us, I tell her. We need someone slower than us to 'protect" us from bears!! p.s. She doesn't get it. Yet. But she will!!

I sense our "adventure" will make for some highly amusing future posts and pictures. That alone makes it worthwhile!! never mind the Life Lessons I hope to impart from my lofty perch of wisdom...

*True story: I have seen some serious wildlife in my many traverses around this great country of ours, and coming unexpectedly close to a bear in Colorado was, by far, the scariest encounter ever. They are not afraid of us. They are indifferent to our presence. And my dog? Just a potential appetizer in the bear's mind.

Break

2008-04-23T05:58:00.000-07:00

When Flipper started school, one of the hardest things for me to get accustomed to was the week-or longer-breaks that are scheduled every six weeks throughout the school year. It drove me crazy. Scrambling to find childcare for that week, a week out of sync with the public school systems, a week that I was convinced she spent pining away for her little friends. But I was wrong. Of course!! We are in the middle of one of those weeks right now. She is so happy, so content to be with me, her dad, and my parents for these days that perhaps the school is onto something. She seems, the older she gets, to really need that break from school. The last week school was in session I remember thinking, wow, she really needs a break. I'm getting it! Being a parent at this school, or really, ANY school is at many times a lesson in shifting perceptions and expectations, and, even more, trust. That the teachers know what they're doing, trust that this somewhat "alternative" educational system really does have a reason, a good reason, for doing things the way they do. . But really, a break from what? It isn't exactly Harvard over there, you know.

So what DOES Flipper need a break from? Waking up when I need her to-as opposed to when she wants to. A break from the constant teeny tiny endless negotiations among her friendships and relationships with all the other children and the two teachers. A break from eating when eating is scheduled, as opposed to when her body wants to. A break from wearing appropriate clothes to school, one of her biggest struggles. Just...a break. As a result, this week (so far) has been heavenly. She has been in the best mood day in and day out, helpful, cheerful, happy. I am starting to put her to work, as she has no regular chores (yet). When asked if she wants to do the same chore every day, or just help when I ask, she invariably wants to do what is asked, perhaps because it ISN'T the same every day. So feeding the dogs every evening went out the window. Her NEW chore is helping with dinner; she loves to make salad, and yes, she uses my super sharp Henkel Twin-Star, with nary a lopped off finger insight. Yet. Because one day she WILL cut herself, but that's OK too. She likes to peel the carrots, cut the grape tomatoes in half, peel and chop cucumber, tear lettuce leaves, and then artfully arrange croutons on top. She sets the table, and must clear it afterwards. She used to load the dishwasher, but I have gone back to hand-washing in the new house, a chore she loves to do.

I don't even pretend to understand this, but am filled with grateful pleasure at how harmoniously we work together in the kitchen. Filled with pleasure because I know, as surely as I know that the rain will never stop, that this easy phase will pass, and one day she will hate helping out, preferring to whine and cry about how small her allowance is. And she will be counting the minutes until she can return to school and her friends, away from our small family life and routine. But until then? Slice away, Flipper!

Hard at work washing dishes (and wasting water) at the old house.

Chatter chatter, toil and matter

2008-04-22T06:16:00.000-07:00

After a few weeks of peace and quiet, I have had to start putting the smackdown on the incessant chatter again, much as I did when Flipper was around 3. Currently, she likes to stand in front of her bathroom mirror and talk to herself as she (messily) brushes her teeth; when we are eating dinner she turns her head to gaze raptly at her reflection in the window, even when I am talking to her. I feel like everything is some dreadful prelude to adolescence. Her new thing? Watching herself cry in the nearest reflective surface. I mean, who does this??? And, perhaps more importantly, why?!?!?!? I find it MADDENING.

LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!!! (See I told you it was a prelude to teen-agerdom!)

And speaking of teen-agers, Flipper loves them. The girls, that is. I don't think she registers that boys can even BE teen-agers. Her awe and amazement knows no bounds. My co-worker has a 17 year-old daughter that likes children, and is looking for babysitting gigs. We all met at the big Weaver Street for breakfast a few Saturdays ago so Flipper and I could meet her, chat for a few minutes, etc. I told my co-worker that Flipper would be struck dumb, unable to respond to even the most basic of questions. She didn't really believe me, but it is exactly what happened. If you have ever been near or in close contact with someone really famous, that is what Flipper felt. And, as a result, she acted like some sort of star-struck fan. Sat silently beside Katie while we ate. Flipper, of course, was too awe-struck to eat at all. Silently followed her to the bathroom. Returned, never taking her eyes off her for more than 5 or 6 seconds. It was precious. Why? Because she was silent.

The same thing happened when I took her with me to the salon to get my hair cut. Flipper was mute, again, in the face of a Real Live Grown-Up Place. My hair-person is from Quebec, and has a strong French accent. She is witty and sarcastic and I love her. Plus, she is great with hair. Flipper was silent, hovering beside my chair. Lynn, my hair-genius, was so thrilled that she maintained a monologue about Flipper's cuteness and silence for the entire 20 minutes it takes to cut my hair. It went something like this: (don't forget to add your own heavy French accent here)

Oh, you are so cute (except it sounded like "coot")
What do you eat to be so cute??

(tiny whisper from Flipper: Raisin Bran.)
Which is a total lie, she has had Raisin Bran once in her whole life!!

Oh, I need to get some! And eat some so I can be cute like you! And you, you are so QUIET!! I like you because you do not talk! I like little children that do not talk because they all talk and they drive Lynn crazy! You so cute and you so quiet, I will give you little present!! Do you want a little present? Do you? Good! Here is your little present for being SO QUIET!! (some plasticky light-up wand-thingie). Flipper handled it as though it were the Crown Jewels. Tiny whispered "thank you."
Then we left. She was silent the whole ride home, gently and lovingly fondling her plastic wand-thingie, and then it ended and she talked for about 10 straight hours to make up for the 30 minutes she was silent.

I didn't have the heart to tell Lynn that she was quiet only because we were doing something so grown up that she was awed into silence.

Her chattering really comes as no surprise, as I got in trouble in school for talking more than anything, or really, anyone else. In second grade Mrs. Hardy gave us all little cartoon Valentine's. Mine was that crazed shark, JabberJaws. Perhaps the apple is landing very very close to the tree after all.

Day in the sun

2008-04-21T06:23:00.000-07:00

What a good week-end! This will be picture-heavy, by the way. On Friday afternoon, Erika and I took the kids to the Shakori Hills Music Festival to recruit new cult members. I mean students. Really, I do!! The weather was spectacular, and although I had set my expectations neither high nor low, I was very very very pleasantly surprised at how very well-run the whole thing was. Plus, Natalie came by our booth and said hello. Thanks, Natalie!!

Typically, I cringe at things that tout themselves as being "family friendly" since it reminds me too much of some sort of frightful Disney-led experience, but this whole event really WAS family/kid friendly. And the kids had more fun than I could possibly relate here. They ran around, blew bubbles, played with crocheted Frisbees, tried to hula hoop, scaled the climbing wall, ate ice cream...I could go on and on, but I won't. We were lucky enough to watch some truly professional hooping near the main stage by Vivian Spiral. Google-search her name if you want to see more. I felt perfectly happy letting Flipper pretty much "run free" without me breathing down her neck, making sure she was in sight every minute.

Our booth!!

I am trying very hard to let go of "stranger-danger" paranoia, particularly since it is so very very rare. And yet, like shark attacks, even though we know how rare it is, the fear persists. It affects almost everything we do with our children, where we go, how we watch them, what we let them do alone, or, rather NOT alone. This is something I think about a lot, and preparing for a longer post about it soon. Would love to hear other parents thoughts about this topic, so email me or leave a comment if you have some thoughts/feelings regarding "stranger-danger." Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming...

Flipper with her face freshly-and beautifully-painted.
Flipper checks out some onstage action.

Happy Waldorf kids, playing with one of the big silks we had. Sidenote: this is an excellent example of an "open-ended" toy, meaning that it can be used for many, many things. Kids LOVE silks of all sizes and colors.

Flipper with the same long rainbow silk, attempting to become some sort of butterfly. She spent almost 30 minutes tying and retying it.

Flipper and Diana on the climbing wall. ALL the kids LOVED the wall, the cool guy that ran it gave them multiple turns for their (my) money, was really relaxed, called Flipper "cutie-pie" which I loved, just great!! Flipper would climb about 8 feet up, then let go and swing out. You can see her looking at the cool guy that was running the wall on the left. He was great.

Sound stage at dusk.

Crazy-sicles

2008-04-18T05:32:00.000-07:00

The OTHER harbinger of spring...no, not allergies, no, not pollen on the cars...it means that it is time once again for...

Locopops. If you've not yet experienced one, do so. If you have, no explanation necessary.

Glittery glitter and the glitter that loves glitter

2008-04-17T07:58:00.000-07:00

I ordered new shoes for myself a few weeks ago. Note: I enter malls only 2x a year, when Talbot's and JJill might be having big sales. I buy what I came for, then flee. I buy almost EVERYTHING online. Anyway...they came. Flipper loved them!! She was struck dumb, speechless at their beauty. "They're beautiful!! Will you give them to me when I grow up?" Cute, wasn't it? Precious that she recognizes nice things, has an opinion, blah blah blah. But let me tell you, when she said she liked them, my heart fell. My first thought was, "If she likes them, they must be hideously tacky." Why? Because everything she likes is hideously tacky. Or covered in some sort of glittery, sprinkly mess.

Every few weeks or so, she drags her barstool (bought for the sole purpose of providing her a means to get things without bothering me) into the kitchen, climbs up, balances precariously, and gets down my copy of I Like You: Hospitality Under The Influence by Amy Sedaris. Why, pray tell? So she can take the dust jacket off, and gaze, raptly, at the centerfold-like spread of Amy on the inside, clad in some sort of invisible underwear, covered with icing and millions upon millions of tiny rainbow-colored cookie sprinkles. This would be Flipper's very own fantasy-come-to-life. So when she said that she liked my shoes, I panicked. I then polled about 80 friends to make sure that the shoes fell safely into the classification of Fun but not Too Youthful/Tacky.

Once, Flipper and I and one of her little friends took a walk to pick dandelions. the girls blew the white fluff, thereby helpfully scattering yet MORE destructive dandelion seeds through a neighbor's yard, and made a few wishes along the way. The other girl, a true innocent, provided a precious wish, one that would make any parent proud: "I wish the sun would shine and make more flowers." Then it was Flipper's turn: "I wish the whole world was covered in glitter." Wow. How...thoughtful. How nature-friendly. How...tacky. Yet another way in which I am reminded that she is related to me...kind of. Glorious, are they not? Nice, grown-up hippie shoes.

Flipper's fantasy, come to life. She will gaze at this for hours, hours I tell you! Perhaps I should get a TV after all...

Random Notes

2008-04-16T06:42:00.001-07:00

This will be FAST and FURIOUS so I can get back to my real job, one that doesn't involve Celebrity Baby Blog and other oh-so-important websites. Yesterday I had lunch with the other women that are featured on the N&O's new website, http://www.trianglemom2mom.com/ . Drop by sometime, and check out the other blogs. Anyway, back to lunch. It was great! I had a fantastic time, which is to be expected since I am a pretty classic ENFP, and love meeting new people. We all talked, joked, listened; I could barely tear myself away at the end!!

On Friday, Flipper and I will be hippies for a day, out at Shakori Hills, promoting the school, and generally getting in touch with my inner, long-forgotten Deadhead self. I was going to take her camping in the Uwharrie National Forest that evening, to break in our new tent, but the campsite is full Friday night! I am going to book ahead for next week-end, and cancel if the weather looks icky. If you at Shakori on Friday, come to the non-profit area on Friday afternoon and visit me!!!!!!!!!!

And...she is BACK IN MY BED. Just when I was getting used to being alone, just me and Seamus, all curled up...SHE'S BACK. After the newness and excitement of her own bed, (something that faded rather quickly), she has decided that it is not a skill that needs any particular night-after-night practice like, say the piano. A friend that co-sleeps with her children mentioned that to sleep alone in a large bed must feel fairly decadent, and I am here to say that yes...it does. We read a chapter (currently plowing through Mrs. Piggle Wiggle's Magic) and then she falls asleep. After an hour or so, when she is pretty much comatose, I ferry her to her room. But then, much much later, I can hear little scrabbling noises from the foot of my bed, and she very very carefully clambers up on the bed, making as little noise and movement as possible, and gets under the covers, pressing her small body against mine as tightly as she can. I am rather impressed with her silent sneaking abilities. About 10% of me is irked by this, but 90% of me is OK with it, and I'll tell you why.

A few weeks ago, I attended a communication workshop held at Flipper's school, the school that will no longer be referred to as The Cult, much to my sadness. Anyway, it was very powerful, and very humbling. I have been quite tempted to poke a considerable amount of fun at it, but have resisted (so far). Why was it humbling? Well, part of the premise is that we need to identify our our needs by practicing self-empathy, before we can make any request of someone else. This was extraordinarily difficult for me to do. I was, according to the leader of this workshop, quite good at identifying everyone else's emotions/needs, but incredibly bad at identifying my own. Great, I thought. I am a week from turning 40, single with a long line of failed relationships behind me largely due to the fact that I can't communicate well, and I can't even communicate with MYSELF!! Like I said, humbling.

If you have ever read my favorite parenting book (bad cartoons aside) How Talk So Kids Will Listen, And Listen So Kids Will Talk, the same premise of communication applies. I am fairly good at this will Flipper, when I remember. Which isn't all the time. But what I AM into, is how well she can articulate her needs, even with her somewhat limited almost-5-year-old vocabulary. How I pray this continues with us!!! Here is a prime example:

me: Why are you back in my bed?

flipper: I need to be close to you.

Well, there you have it. Pretty clear, isn't she? And because she is so clear at identifying her needs, I give them to her, when they are as reasonable as this one is, and when I believe-strongly- that her need for physical closeness after being away from me for most of the day keeps us on an even keel, and promotes better and better communication. There is a lot of pressure out there to get-and keep-her out of my bed. I am trying to figure out what wakes her up when she is sleeping alone, but when she is sleeping with me she never stirs, except to kick me in the ribs a few times.

me: Why do you wake up at night?

flipper: I just do. And then I get a sad feeling and need to come and find you.

I think most children can, and do, communicate clearly. But why do they stop? What happens on the journey to adulthood that makes so many of us poor communicators when we grow up? I am hoping to break this pattern with her. We'll see.

Sleeping Beauty

Note: this is not my bed. I only wish, as I love the padded headboard. Friend's vacation house in Blowing Rock.