Emma has immersed herself in zoos, touch and feel labs, and exploration of all kinds of habitats this last month. She even practises the "one finger" touch rule in order to pet without alarming nature's creatures.
During a family reunion, the pavilion had some dripping water that collected and formed a puddle. Emma spotted the hornets skimming over for a water break. She eagerly approached the puddle calling over her shoulder, "Me pet bugs Momma." She turned, held up her hand, "Just one finger," assuring mom she knew the rules.
You've never seen so many adults converge on one small girl and swoop her up out of harm's way. Guess this wasn't the same as the turtle, cockroach, sidewalk ants, or python she'd "petted" before she became a rescue mission.
Contributed by: Ann
Monday, June 23, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Summer Snow
Mowing my lawn is a relatively recent development for me. I have now been mowing lawns for 2 years and 3 months. Prior to this other people mowed my lawn. My dad, my grandpa, my husband dutifully mowed and mowed and mowed. For the most part I accept this new task semi-grudgingly and do my best to keep things tidy.
Recently, however, the dandelions in my lawn went on a fantastic growing spree. They were everywhere and they were huge. Fortunately, I live in the country and no one goes crazy when my lawn looks bad. I did finally decide to take care of my dandelions though and set to mowing. As I mowed down my gigantic field of dandelions something wonderful happened. All of the fuzz from the thousands of dandelions in my yard started to float up and around me as I mowed. It was thick, white, and fluffy. In the early summer sunshine I had the most beautiful snow of the year.
Contributed by Sarah.
Recently, however, the dandelions in my lawn went on a fantastic growing spree. They were everywhere and they were huge. Fortunately, I live in the country and no one goes crazy when my lawn looks bad. I did finally decide to take care of my dandelions though and set to mowing. As I mowed down my gigantic field of dandelions something wonderful happened. All of the fuzz from the thousands of dandelions in my yard started to float up and around me as I mowed. It was thick, white, and fluffy. In the early summer sunshine I had the most beautiful snow of the year.
Contributed by Sarah.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Awareness
An older man came into the coffee shop today wearing a camouflage jacket and a baseball hat with a moose on it. He came up to the counter with his white five o' clock shadow and asked for an ordinary cup of coffee. I asked him what size he would like, and he replied, "I need awareness, not an epiphany, so small please."
Contributed by Aryn.
Contributed by Aryn.
List
I keep a list of things I know better than to say out loud. It makes my life easier when people don't know just how quietly crazy I really am. I feel more like a human being than instructive entertainment.
The list isn't particularly long nor exhaustive. I forget large portions of it so, routinely, something inappropriately vulnerable and beautiful slips out and makes an awkward little mess. I apologize, mop it up with a quick joke, dispose of it an off-the-wall conversational shift, and it never comes up again. Life goes on, as it will, so help me God, whether one likes it or not.
There are a few things I've never managed to say to people and I hope, for the ease and comfort of all involved, I never do.
Things like:
I think you're really Jesus Christ dressed up like somebody I would know.
The reason why I'm so uncomfortable around you and most other people is because I am afraid that if I am not careful, I will start babbling on about how beautiful even complete strangers are.
Just say nonsense, Dr. Seuss words, right now. I don't care. I just want a familiar voice to fill up the Big Empty a little while longer.
The list isn't particularly long nor exhaustive. I forget large portions of it so, routinely, something inappropriately vulnerable and beautiful slips out and makes an awkward little mess. I apologize, mop it up with a quick joke, dispose of it an off-the-wall conversational shift, and it never comes up again. Life goes on, as it will, so help me God, whether one likes it or not.
There are a few things I've never managed to say to people and I hope, for the ease and comfort of all involved, I never do.
Things like:
I think you're really Jesus Christ dressed up like somebody I would know.
The reason why I'm so uncomfortable around you and most other people is because I am afraid that if I am not careful, I will start babbling on about how beautiful even complete strangers are.
Just say nonsense, Dr. Seuss words, right now. I don't care. I just want a familiar voice to fill up the Big Empty a little while longer.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Research Associate in the field of Child Development ...
A woman, renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk's office, was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation. She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself. "What I mean is, " explained the recorder, "do you have a job or are you just a ...?"
"Of course I have a job," snapped the woman. "I'm a Mom."
"We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation, 'housewife' covers it" said the recorder emphatically.
I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall. The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like, 'Official Interrogator' or 'Town Registrar.' "What is your occupation?" she probed.
What made me say it? I do not know. The words simply popped out. "I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations."
The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and looked up as though she had not heard right. I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words.. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written, In bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.
"Might I ask,'" said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in your field?"
Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn't) in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out). I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family) and already have four credits (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?) And I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers
And the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money."
There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door. As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby) in the child development program, testing out a new vocal pattern. I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than 'just another Mom.
Motherhood! What a glorious career! Especially when there's a title on the door. Does this make grandmothers 'Senior Research associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations' and great grandmothers Executive Senior Research Associates?' I think so!!! I also think it makes Aunts Associate Research Assistants.
...a friend from Word Weavers' Writing Group passed this along! Enjoy!
"Of course I have a job," snapped the woman. "I'm a Mom."
"We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation, 'housewife' covers it" said the recorder emphatically.
I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall. The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like, 'Official Interrogator' or 'Town Registrar.' "What is your occupation?" she probed.
What made me say it? I do not know. The words simply popped out. "I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations."
The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and looked up as though she had not heard right. I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words.. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written, In bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.
"Might I ask,'" said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in your field?"
Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn't) in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out). I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family) and already have four credits (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?) And I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers
And the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money."
There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door. As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby) in the child development program, testing out a new vocal pattern. I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than 'just another Mom.
Motherhood! What a glorious career! Especially when there's a title on the door. Does this make grandmothers 'Senior Research associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations' and great grandmothers Executive Senior Research Associates?' I think so!!! I also think it makes Aunts Associate Research Assistants.
...a friend from Word Weavers' Writing Group passed this along! Enjoy!
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Jacqueline
Last fall, I tried writing a children's book for my niece, Emma. It was about a gorilla named Jacqueline who lives in a zoo and the zookeeper is teaching Jacqueline sign language. One day, the zookeeper teaches Jacqueline the sign for "I love you." Excited Jacqueline signs "I love you" to all the animals around her but none of them understand. Not discouraged, Jacqueline tries to sign "I love you" to all the people visiting the zoo, but they all think the gorilla is just doing funny things with her hands. Jacqueline tries one last time and signs to a little girl walking with her parents eating ice cream. The little girl gets so excited that she drops her ice cream cone and rushes down the stairs toward Jacqueline's cage, signing back to Jacqueline.
I like that ending even though it doesn't go anywhere. I don't want it to go anywhere. I want Jacqueline and the little girl to live in that ending. It's beautiful and who the hell am I to take that away from them even if they aren't real?
I like that ending even though it doesn't go anywhere. I don't want it to go anywhere. I want Jacqueline and the little girl to live in that ending. It's beautiful and who the hell am I to take that away from them even if they aren't real?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)