Ittybits & Pieces

Pains in the ....

2012-02-06T08:39:00.004-05:00

Had a bit of a mishap yesterday. Ittybit fell a little awkwardly while we were skating. So this morning, when she woke up still complaining of pain in the posterior, I scavenged around my studio and made her a little portable cushion ... you know ... for school.

Her response was fairly predicable: "Oh, mom, nooooooooooooo!"

Her dad's response, though, was why I married him:

"Oh, yeah ... you might has well put a cone around her neck, too."

Hope reminds you ...

2012-02-03T16:12:00.004-05:00

In this case, hope came in the form of a second (and third) opinion.

And it could mean that I might be able to take a picture of my parents like this again one day.

And though it's too early to tell if my mom might be able to walk with Silas during his preschool graduation -- or even witness it knowing that he is her grandson -- it is a hope that, even if remotely possible, is too sweet not to savor for a moment.

What 3:24 p.m. looks like on any given weekday ...

2012-02-02T08:25:00.002-05:00

HERE SHE COMES! Here she comes ... hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomeshereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes hereshecomes!!!!

WAIT! Where'd she go?

HERE SHE IS! Here she is ... heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis heresheis!

Today! Good Morning, America

2012-01-31T09:14:00.004-05:00

Him: Oh My God!

Me: What?

Him: There are no fewer than three hosts on this talk show wearing platform shoes.

Me: *blank stare*

Him: You know ... they're shoes that are almost as thick at the toe as they are in the heel and they make you super tall?

Me: Ah, yeah ... I know what platform shoes are, I just don't understand the significance of your surprise.

Him: I ... Just ... I mean ... People used to put goldfish in shoes like those, forgodssake.

Self serve

2012-01-30T08:56:00.001-05:00

I see it this way:

It was his cake.

He mixed it. Baked it. Decorated it.

Even sliced it himself.

Might as well have the piece he wanted and eat it, too.

First casualty

2012-01-27T10:28:00.001-05:00

"It's ok. He's got another foot what's good."

She could have been a contender

2012-01-24T08:42:00.002-05:00

In 1961.

I haven't skated since I was 12

2012-01-23T08:04:00.002-05:00

And I'm not too proud to admit I was none too graceful back then, either.

But pride does goest before a fall.

So ...

I Googled "How to ice skate" on my iPhone right after I laced up his skates.

Nerfy Harry

2012-01-18T16:21:00.004-05:00

I'm guessing this is one punk who feels pretty lucky.

She knows how to be our dog

2012-01-14T17:16:00.017-05:00

Looking cute. Cuddling. Cleaning up food that drops on the floor. ... She's got those tasks down really well.

But if she REALLY wants to fit in, though, she's going to have to learn to jump on the furniture, chew up some of the kids' toys and be at least a tiny bit annoying.

Tomorrow's another day for her to get with the program.

Because all dogs are liberal ...

2012-01-13T21:52:00.003-05:00

(or at the very least, progressive) ...

when Reagan comes home with us tomorrow, she'll have a new name.

A little birdie told me ...

2012-01-11T16:38:00.004-05:00

"Winter is mocking you."

Get a 'Roommate'

2012-01-10T13:40:00.008-05:00

It may not vacuum your floor too well, but it will keep your cat busy.

Notice, she's ready to pounce ... should the need arise.

Golden Age

2012-01-05T22:07:00.005-05:00

The dress swung when she moved. It shimmered, too.

I gave it to her thinking it would be worn to the New Year's Eve party we'd attend as a family ... only the rest of us would be wearing jeans ... or pajamas.

She's the one who understands the value of dressing up, even if you're just going to play Tag, or Hide-and-Seek, or King of the Laundry Mountain in your best friend's basement.

To each their own.

Since I ended up spending most of the holiday season floundering on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, she ended up missing that party and wearing the dress on an ordinary Thursday ... paired with black leggings and a rainbow-edged wrap sweater (which she probably stashed in her backpack the instant she sat in her seat on the bus).

She's never been one for excessive layering.

She allowed me to take a photograph when she came home in the afternoon.

As she stood by the tree and swung the dress -- slowly and rhythmically as if an audience was watching -- I was reminded of her four-year-old self ... when I'd gotten her a similar frock. She'd swung that dress, too. Only she'd twirled and twirled until she'd gotten dizzy and had to sit down.

Sometimes I think she's lost that abandon. She only finds it again ... when no one is watching.

It's so subtle ... this difference.

She's not a little girl anymore. And yet, she is.

Framed

2011-12-29T05:33:00.001-05:00

Let's just say Monkey Baby under glass and on the wall displeased little lord flaunty boy. So much, in fact, that he had to make a new drawing of the "babies" that would never, ever, ever, ever be protected from harm.

He likes them grubby.

And to make sure they wouldn't be seen as precious ...

once he'd finished painting them, he scrawled on their faces with pencil.

Lost and found

2011-12-27T15:38:00.006-05:00

We took this picture for the flyer.

"FOUND. POMERANIAN. MAIN STREET. CALL blah, blah, blah"

The downturned smile is because she KNOWS this dog has an owner who misses her.

Homeless pomeranians are a rarity. Someone was bound to know to whom she belonged. All we needed to do was call around.

But having a dog for a few hours, feeding her steak and listening to her snore, was also a pretty good indicator that maybe it's time to start looking for our dog.

Ah ... Memories

2011-12-22T15:19:00.003-05:00

This is the only photo I took on the birthday she'll likely remember thusly:

"It was the best birthday EVER. We had games and crafts and we made ice cream ... and oh, yeah, mom didn't come."

What I'll be doing today ...

2011-12-20T08:57:00.002-05:00

Just like every year.

*For recipe, click here

On the twelfth day of Christmas ...

2011-12-18T05:29:00.003-05:00

I got pneumonia. The kind that kneecaps you instead of letting you walk off scott free. And we'd planned a party for the Big 8 today that included -- as you might be able to surmise by the amount (and sizing) of the craft tables -- all of her classmates and a few extra friends from past classes.

Guess whose had to do all the work?

On the eleventh day of Christmas ...

2011-12-11T08:33:00.001-05:00

Even the squirrels are getting into the spirit.

On the tenth day of Christmas ...

2011-12-10T08:00:00.001-05:00

Santa? Can I ask you something?

Sure, what is it that you'd like?

Did your mother make you practice every day?

Oh yes. Each and every day. ALWAYS listen to your mother.

On the ninth day of Christmas ...

2011-12-09T08:00:00.003-05:00

I had almost all of the ingredients:

Empty jars - check

Matching lids - check

Spray paint - (optional but) check

Tiny plastic toys - check

Corks - check

Plastic greens - (cut from fake garlands) check

Glitter - check

Epoxy - check

Distilled water - check

Glycerin - hmmmm ... you mean the stuff people make soap out of?

Yes, but no:

You can find it in the drugstore, but not in the soap aisle.

Oh ... I kid the Santa Claus.

Anywhoo ... Here's what you do:

1. Collect all those toys you've been stepping on. I used the holiday set from Playmobil that I bought last year, but any plastic toy will do.

2. Clean out some jars, make sure your toys fit inside. Ittybit helped with this. I couldn't for the life of me fit the snowman in the artichoke jar and was rummaging through the recycling for a bigger jar when she simply took off his hat. So. There.

3. Spray paint the lids to make them a uniformed color (you can cover them with fabric or leave them alone. It's fine for people to know you've sealed Frosty in an old artichoke bottle. You can also use bottle caps to act as pedestals if the jar is large and the toys are small.

4. Wait 24 hours for the lids to dry.

5. To make the trees I cut little bits of fake greenery off our garland, trimmed them a bit and stuck them in little slabs of cork I sawed into quarters. I punctured a little hole in the cork with the tip of a knife to make tree insertion easier.

6. Mix the epoxy and dab it onto the toys, press them on the inside of the lid and let dry for a couple of hours.

7. I added a half teaspoon or so of glitter to the jars and a dab of glycerine (seriously only about a dime-sized dab for the largest jar) and then filled them to the top with distilled water.

8. Over the sink, I inserted the lid scene and shut it as tightly as possible.

9. Of course it still leaks a little.

But look ...

So pretty.

Maybe ... if I ever do this again ... I'll try a silicone sealant on the lid.

On the eighth day of Christmas ...

2011-12-08T05:42:00.004-05:00

Let's face it ... when you have kids to entertain, every little whim that materializes into hanging balls of glue and sparkle or stitched-together pieces of old pajama bottoms is like Christmas morning threw up a little in your house each and every day.

Might as well change the sheets before the place starts to stink.

And with that in mind, I give you:

Bed (and bedding) for Monkey Babies

Because you know, if you give twin Monkey Babies a bed, they're going to want a mattress. And if you give them a mattress, they'll want pillows. And if you give them pillows they'll want a blanket.

Because ... it's getting cold outside.

Finally.

On the seventh day of Christmas

2011-12-07T09:36:00.007-05:00

Kermit was right: It's not easy being green.

Do you make a wreath?

A table decoration?

Swags?

How much you wager these will still be piled on our porch come Christmas Day?

On the sixth day of Christmas ...

2011-12-06T15:14:00.003-05:00

The seeds of disbelief are sewn:

"Mom! I just found the gift tags SANTA used last year. They were with the Post-It notes."

"Huh? Well, that is odd. Maybe he left them here last year. ... That's it. I bet he changes things up every year. ... Keeps it fresh."

"I don't know. ... something smells fishy to me."

On the fifth day of Christmas

2011-12-05T14:24:00.003-05:00

I was reminded of a few things ...

1. Our cat LOVES to drink tree water.

So much so that I think she may have a problem.

2. Our kids can't resist reorganizing the tree ornaments.

Every. Chance. They. Get.

and 3. ...

This year I learned the kids are getting better at shifting the blame for broken ornaments onto the tree-water lush.

On the fourth day of Christmas ...

2011-12-04T22:45:00.002-05:00

When building houses ...

Sometimes it helps ...

To have plans.

On the third day of Christmas ...

2011-12-03T10:04:00.000-05:00

You know how Festivus has the Airing of Grievances?

Well, here at Ittybits & Pieces we have the Shilling of the Swag.

On the second day of Christmas ...

2011-12-02T14:17:00.006-05:00

Our holiday cards are *nearly* ready for the schlep to the Post Office.

Have to admit I'm a little disappointed that this picture:

Wasn't in existence until today.

Otherwise, it would have been on the card.***

*** Should anyone have a pressing desire to be added to our Christmas Card list, drop me a line.

On the first day of Christmas ...

2011-12-01T08:30:00.000-05:00

My true love gave to me ...

A bunch of random office supplies ...

A dozen or so balloons ...

And a shaker of glittery goo.

On the second day of Christmas ...

My true love gave to me ...

A few dozen winds of string ...

A watered-down vat of glue ...

And a thick sable paintbrush ...

On the third day of Christmas ...

My true love gave to me

A hardened ball of string ...

A touch-up coat of glue ...

And few more shakes of glittery goo.

On the forth day of Christmas ...

My true love gave to me ...

A sharp, pointy object ...

A few stabs around the balloon parts ...

And a dustpan for all the glittery goo.

On the fifth day of Christmas ...

My true love gave to me ...

A length of ribbon ...

A few salvaged buttons ...

And some more of the damn glittery goo.

On the sixth day of Christmas ...

My true love gave to me ...

A bunch of ornamental snow balls ...

A few ideas for other holidays ...

And a weird desire for Santa to bring a more powerful vacuum cleaner for all this glittery goo.

What I learned today ...

2011-11-29T22:34:00.008-05:00

Patience IS a virtue ...

What else I learned today:

The Champ's wonky left kidney is noticeably LESS wonky.

Our vandals are better than your vandals

2011-11-29T08:29:00.002-05:00

Just sayin'.

A syllable short

2011-11-28T06:43:00.001-05:00

Mom? What's a terrorist?

Well, it's a criminal who does terrible things to hurt and frighten people.

Oh. I thought it was a person who visits to see things.

That would be a tourist.

The ghosts of Christmases past

2011-11-27T03:38:00.002-05:00

As I rustle through the stores this holiday season mulling the purchases that will either make Santa a hero or me a zero (because, lets face it, blaming the big guy for getting the wrong toy just isn't done) I thought I'd wander down Memory Lane and remember all the gifts that haven't been forgotten the second the wrapping paper had been cleared away:

BIC Mark-It permanent ink markers – $23

We bought the 36-count set ions ago. Likely before The Champ was even born. We still have all 36 and all of them work. There is no substitute for good markers. And no end to how you can use them. This year we'll be making tie-dye shirts with permanent markers and rubbing alcohol.

Optic Wonder by Toysmith – $7

It's not really a wonder … it's a binocular/compass combo that rarely gets used in our house for either of those functions. But this a $7 hunk of plastic (now missing the compass feature) has certainly repaid its price ten-times over … though I doubt I bought it. Honestly? I had no idea what this mystery gadget was. It just turned up one day and it's been an important tool for propping up toys, spying on sisters and viewing the opera from the living room ever since.

FurReal Newborn Chimpanzee - $14

We call him “Monkey Baby” and The Champ won't leave home (or sleep) without him. Luckily (because of temporary misplacement) we have three of these babies. The “real” part of the monkey – chittering, snoring and squawking have all lost their appeal (not to mention battery juice). Even I must admit it's creepy how cute he is.

Vintage camera, thrift shop - $1

The kids will always dig this baby out of the toy box.

You can find them at etsy, but I'd go to Salvation Army … or Goodwill … yard sales. You might also want to check grandpa's attic.

Haba Geomix blocks - $46

We received these Geomix block by Haba as a gift when Ittybit was two. I'm not sure anyone would outgrow these. Ever.

Hello Kitty Sewing Machine by Janome - $115

Cute. Versatile. Sturdy. Indispensable.

Santa brought a Sew Mini by Janome, ($60) which was handy and good for light-weight crafting, but ended up needing repairs after only a few months. Santa now recommends spending just a little more.

Wooden train set - $50

Their father had a small set … probably from the Brio company.

We went with Circo at Target. Got a 120-piece set for about $50. It's easy to assemble, fits with the old Brio set as well as another plastic model recently and lovingly handed down. I think the best part may be that it's a toy that won't end up in a yard sale.

And it's hours of fun.

Legos – Anywhere from $3 to a small fortune

You will step on them, sweep them up, step on them again … but you will never curse the day they were invented. Neither will your kids.

Littlest Pet Shop - $4 to $40

Ittybit got her first Littlest Pet Shop when she was two. I got an apology from the benefactor. “They're like crack,” she whispered so that her own daughter wouldn't hear. Now we have more than a hundred of these little bobble headed things. Parents hate them. Kids love them. Can't win every battle.

Superstar Mic - $1

Target dollar bin. Looks like the biggest piece of crap going: A plastic ice cream cone housing a metal coil. Batteries not even needed. Big whoop.

Yet … It's been the best dollar Santa ever spent.

This year Santa is looking into

A pottery wheel

A marble chute

A microscope

and an ice cream maker

I'll let you know how my kids think they stack up against the best toy ever made …

The cardboard box.

We're Elfed

2011-11-25T09:06:00.001-05:00

Holidays ...

They'll do that to you.

Giving Thanks

2011-11-24T07:07:00.003-05:00

It's not been the best year.

You know?

Maddy ...

The layoff ...

My mom ...

And still, I'm thankful.

Thankful for tiny mysteries ...

Like when my daughter looks at me and asks me if I'm 25, even though I know to her 25 might as well be 100.

Or when the lady at the grocery store cards me for beer, even though I know she's required to card everyone. She's not required to act surprised by the dates.

I am thankful that when my husband holds up a turkey baster he bought during a Thanksgiving eve shopping trip he took with our son, it comes with a story I never in a million years would have guessed:

"Uhhhh ... I don't baste the turkey."

"I know, but it kept your son from melting down in the middle of the store. He really, really wanted a turkey baster."

I am thankful that he decided a $2 kitchen tool was one battle not worth fighting.

Though I'm not sure I'll be thankful when the boy douses me at bath time with his new squirter toy.

But I know it's just the price I'll have to pay for being thankful for all the things that sneak up behind me, yell 'boo' and scamper off, giggling.

Little Miss (Un)Helpful

2011-11-23T11:12:00.003-05:00

"The Arm Bone's connected to the Leg Bone ...

"The Leg Bone's connected to the Head Bone ...

"The Head Bone's connected to the Gut Bones ...

"Two more mistakes and then it's MY Turn!

"Uh-huh-un-huh-un-huh."

Sick day

2011-11-21T22:57:00.004-05:00

One has a fever, the other is raring to go.

One sits on the couch and stares into the television even when it lands on snow.

The other tears up the house. Strewing toys and crumbs and frustrations all about the floor.

Mostly they ignore each other and blame me.

Why do you let him do that?

She doesn't ever listen to me!

All I can say is ...

I hope tomorrow cools down.

At the risk of seeming boastful ...

2011-11-18T21:32:00.003-05:00

I can't help but think the resemblance is uncanny.

And Monkey Baby is a very patient model.

Pardon the pun

2011-11-17T06:57:00.002-05:00

It looks like this tree is looking for a hand out.

The real reason for launch pad countdowns ...

2011-11-16T04:26:00.000-05:00

10 ...

9 ...

8 ...

7...

Aw hell, Blastoff.

"Mama! You forgot to put windows in my rocket ship."

Table talk

2011-11-14T21:45:00.009-05:00

The Champ makes the seating arrangements:

"You sit here. ... That's where werewolves sit," he says to his sister. ...

"And you sit there ... that's where the king sits," he says to his dad. ...

"Ma, you can sit across from me ... but I don't know what you are. ... A fairy? A Queen? No. I don't know what you are."

"So what are you, bud-boy? You a vampire?" his father asks, looking at the pile of Dracula costume he'd been putting on and taking off every hour on the hour since halloween.

"Nope! I'm a Jackalot," he says with a smile.

"Not yet, bud. But no doubt you will in a few years."

A craftacular first

2011-11-11T07:45:00.000-05:00

Some old jeans.

A few remnants bought at salvage.

A couple of hours with the sewing machine and a patch of whirring silence.

I bound the edges before I applied the fabric for the back.

I think I may have cheated in a game where the rules aren't really clear to me.

She didn't care.

To her it was perfect.

She curled up underneath it and drifted off to sleep.

Practical matters

2011-11-10T06:24:00.001-05:00

Kids? Always practical. Husband? Not so much.

From the 'I Kid You Not' kitchen ...

2011-11-09T10:06:00.003-05:00

"Glass-Steagall Soup" is on today's menu.

It will keep you regulated.

Social diseases 2.0

2011-11-08T14:41:00.011-05:00

Can't say I was surprised about a new study that says sexual harassment in school-age children is widespread and pervasive.

I was a teen once.

It was pretty bad then.

But now ... with the speed of your wifi connection ... it's probably going to be the worst social disease ever.

You know ...

If I were a fatalist.

Or something.

According to the report in The New York Times:

Girls reported being harassed more than boys — 56 percent compared with 40 percent — though it was evenly divided during middle school. Boys were more likely to be the harassers, according to the study, and children from lower-income families reported more severe effects.

“It’s pervasive, and almost a normal part of the school day,” said Catherine Hill, the director of research at the association and one of the authors of the report.

This most recent statistic is up significantly from similar reports just three years ago.

It doesn't take too much of a stretch of the imagination to see that surging hormones and immaturity combined with the ease of access to cell phones and wifi - not to mention a virtual ocean of other immature, hormonally charged neophytes just waiting at the ends of their facebook accounts ready and waiting to "Share."

But what do we expect? We all know adults - some of whom in power - who haven't matured past a middle school understanding of interpersonal relations.

We have politicians who aren't practicing what they preach.

Add to that an increasingly diminished journalistic standard, where ridiculing ordinary strangers is not only accepted but status quo.

The noise is just getting louder.

And what do we learn?

Not much.

We even have debate over morality of sex education, as some parents and politicians practically up in arms over schools' plans to offer sex ed in public schools, and yet a zero tolerance policy for pretty much anything that could be considered distasteful or potentially illegal, harmful or a target for litigation.

I can't wait to start reading about politicians creating more laws we can't enforce.

In short. I think we're fucked.

Of course an energy shortage could be the most hopeful thing ever.

If you think of it that way.

A funny thing happen on our way to visit Amah ...

2011-11-06T03:13:00.000-05:00

"I always wondered what went on in that building. I had no idea so many nice people were trapped there."

And so it begins.

What I learned today

2011-11-04T19:36:00.004-04:00

In 1960 Jerry Lewis made a movie called "Cinderfella."

Things I learned today:

2011-11-02T21:12:00.006-04:00

Our cat will willingly get into the cat carrier.

And stay there.

For an indeterminate amount of time.

Without complaint.

She won't even mind if you lug her around like a suitcase. Or spin her a little ... like an amusement park ride.

For some strange reason she thinks of her cat carrier as her safe place. Even when it takes her places she'd rather not go.

Like the vet.

But once you set her transportation tent in the car and fire up the ignition all bets are off.

Even driving from the house to the edge of the street will elicit sounds that would make the neighbors think we're ripping out her toenails with rusty pliers and dousing her with antiseptic.

It was a good thing Monkey Baby came along for his check up, too.

Turns out they both got clean bills of health. Neither of them needed to be wormed or flea dipped. Monkey Baby didn't even need a shot.

But while Monkey Baby never made a peep, Ariel wouldn't stop yelling at me. Even when set free, she just laid on the warm driveway and told the world of her terrible ordeal. For hours.

I wouldn't be surprised if she left me a gift in my shoe overnight.

It's not that I'm lazy

2011-10-31T14:51:00.004-04:00

I'm not lazy.

It wasn't more than two weeks ago that I schlepped the kids to the pumpkin patch and lifted, transferred, returned, lifted others, returned those and basically carted around about 200 pounds of pumpkins for about an hour while they decided which pumpkins they would take home for the Great Jack-o-Lantern Carving of 2011.

I was just tired.

Well tired and none to eager to relive the not-so-Great Jack-o-Lantern Carving event of 2010.

Which produced hives.

It was really practicality that caused me to impulse buy four sets of reusable plastic face parts at the dollar store on the night before Halloween.

That and we'd not yet carved the pumpkins.

But Ittybit would have none of it.

Didn't matter that her red, itchy rash lasted three days. She was prepared to wear rubber kitchen gloves up to her elbows and carve the pumpkins with a Sharpie if it came to that.

My husband didn't say anything about my plastic shopping bag full of toxic waste. But I could read his mind.

I wasn't being lazy.

I just wasn't going to carve the pumpkins.

Even thinking about it made my skin itch.

So the three of them hunkered down in front of the fire and started to work their magic. Square eyes, jagged teeth, a nose that looked like a question mark melting in fear of the answer.

Four pumpkins in ... halfway through the pile ... bedtime beckoned.

"We'll have to finish these tomorrow," said dad.

"If we have time after school, you mean," scoffed Ittybit.

"And hell freezes over," I added.

Only The Champed laughed.

He knew about the bag.

It's not that he's lazy.

He just takes after me.

Happy Halloweening to you!

ETA:

I just wanted to thank my neighbors in advance.

Because my neighborhood rocks this holiday.

Autumn in New York

2011-10-28T09:33:00.001-04:00

How do I love thee?

2011-10-27T15:04:00.000-04:00

Let me count the accessories.

Projects like this make me wish school was year-round

2011-10-26T09:29:00.008-04:00

... and that we started this assignment in June.

She's decided ...

2011-10-25T10:00:00.001-04:00

Her costume, that is.

Little Miss Early Bershon has decided she's had it with all the princess stuff.

She's going to be a "Butterfly Girl" this year.

Woe to the person who confuses the two on their doorstep. They might wish they'd left their lights off ...

We began this year's project by making a paper template.

Folded lots of construction paper.

And cut out dozens of paper butterflies, which she decorated with marker and sequined scales.

I took all the dried butterflies and basted them to a green pinafore dress she's almost outgrown.

And here it is: Chica Mariposa!

We are also working on hot-gluing some of these paper creatures to a headband so they will flutter around her head as she walks around the neighborhood.

We also made a ring out of ribbon and crepe.

Next it's his turn.

He wants to be (and I kid you not) a superhero skeleton man. ...

"Like when Metroman faked his own death."

Chef Boyr'he

2011-10-24T10:03:00.002-04:00

He's mastered the egg cracking.

I gare-un-tee

2011-10-22T07:30:00.002-04:00

Homegrown, would you believe it?

Good days are made of sweet bananas and Cajun spice.

A craftacularly bad dream come true

2011-10-21T08:38:00.000-04:00

So I happened on a fixer-upper of a dollhouse at a swap meet recently.

I didn't think twice before picking it up and hauling it two blocks back to our car (along with the volume of stuffed animals the kids had appropriated).

I had visions of haunted dollhouse in my head.

But ... I am not crafty, no matter what you may think. I'm rarely able to make anything the way I see it in my head ... or even in pictures by people whose ideas I wish to purloin.

But as is usual in delusions like mine, the idea that I might actually be able to make something of this took the shape of a discolored set of curtains, tacks already piercing the fabric, stuffed inside the attic crevice. Horror included.

Taking it home, and setting up near my computer ... where I could stare at it and think. And mull. And Google expensive dollhouse furnishings. And wonder what I was getting myself into.

Finally, I decided on a first step.

I'd make a mattress for the bed I didn't yet have.

I made plans:

And got to work.

After 15 minutes or so I managed to sew this:

It went so well, I'm wondering if I could turn the "Princess and the Pea" fairytale a nightmare?

Shadows

2011-10-20T12:47:00.000-04:00

Or an ode to Harry Chapin.

Not sure.

He may win in foosball ...

2011-10-19T13:27:00.006-04:00

But he won't let it go to his head.

Interpretive dance

2011-10-18T14:10:00.005-04:00

It's all in the eye of the beholder.

Unless it's in their ears.

It's 'Take Your Monkeybaby to Work' day

2011-10-17T10:51:00.001-04:00

He's not putting up with any monkey business though.

Moderation

2011-10-14T09:12:00.004-04:00

The Champ is sharing our fascination for our new favorite drink, the Dark & Stormy.

The virgin version is apple cider and a wedge of Key lime served in a measuring shot glass.

He's all about moderation.

Reason number 2,200,023 ...

2011-10-12T12:00:00.002-04:00

Why riding your bike to the bus stop may be a risky undertaking.

Papa Wheelie has way too much fun bringing it back to the house.

Hopefully, your friends were looking off in the other direction.

They go up ... And they go down

2011-10-11T23:58:00.005-04:00

A month ago we welcomed Lulu the wonder dog to our old, falling-apart home, with the hopes that her person, Dappa John, could remedy some of its ills.

Four weeks, fully three of them rainy, and somehow he managed to pull off a string of miracles.

Insulated foundation, revised landscaping and a side porch that makes the rest of the house look shabby.

Not to mention felling a few trees, getting in some firewood and even measuring for windows ... when we get around to that.

A thank-you doesn't seem enough.

But here it is: A start -- Thanks, Dappa John.

And thanks, Lulu ...

We'd almost forgotten how nice it was to have a pre-lick cycle for the dishwasher.

The soundtrack of our lives

2011-10-07T11:15:00.002-04:00

What were you singing about?

"I don't know."

Maybe we shouldn't tempt fate

2011-10-06T08:30:00.003-04:00

FIRST we had fleas.

THEN floods.

and NOW we have FLIES?!!!

If this is god's wrath I'd just as soon he skip to the bit about Three Days of Darkness Over The Land and leave it at that.

I could use the sleep.

Of course, having said that, the next infestation will probably be frogs.

Maybe it would be a good thing: They'd eat the flies.

He's leaving!

2011-10-05T19:53:00.002-04:00

Jed's dad is heading back to Louisiana after enduring four weeks of indentured servitude and countless snide remarks about ziggurats and other Mesopotamian building techniques.

To celebrate his grace and generosity we'd like to invite friends and neighbors to a little going away party in his honor this Friday, October 7, at quitting time and not a moment sooner.

He's so Sharpie

2011-10-04T15:41:00.004-04:00

I'm not that Sharpie.

(At least he kept it off the furniture.)

Where the Sidewalk Ends

2011-10-03T22:52:00.001-04:00

Literally.

A lesson in found objects ...

2011-09-30T15:20:00.003-04:00

Sometimes the real heroes are the ones you'd least expect.

Circus Music

2011-09-29T22:11:00.001-04:00

I see you've already met Aaron Copland.

Shameless self-promotion

2011-09-28T08:37:00.000-04:00

Looks like Jed is about to face plant in a bowl of soup, doesn't it?

I suppose making the pony come to life is hungry work.

Double-O Seven ... and five sixteenths

2011-09-27T07:54:00.002-04:00

What ya doing?

"I'm getting ready to dry the foundation. We've been waiting for weeks and it's just too damp."

How you going to dry it?

"Blow torch ... mwa-ah-ah-ah!"

You really are secret parging man, aren't you?

"You know it, baby."

Songify

2011-09-26T06:32:00.000-04:00

Ittybit presents ...

"Cherry Tomatoes"

Craftacular Friday is just about ready for takeoff

2011-09-23T09:30:00.007-04:00

I happened upon Juju Vail's "Quick Kids Quilts: Easy-to-do Projects for Newborns and Older Children" at the library and was immediately taken with a Rocket ship quilt project requiring a pair of old jeans, some flannel shirts and the ability to suspend disbelief just long enough to make me think "hey, I could probably do that."

I ended up having to visit Goodwill for a pair of jeans I wouldn't mind cannibalizing, and scaling back the pattern from the original patchwork denim background (which I attempted) finished with a flannel border (which I realized was probably about 6,000 finished quilts beyond my skill level).

Eventually, I decided on just the rocket applique (made from the last scraps of usable denim and some strips from some old plaid shirts) -- affixed to a micro-fleece panel sandwiched with a minky backing (Think taggie blankets). Now I'm feeling as if I'm onto something.

If I can manage a few stars, and maybe a planet in the night sky, it would be just the right amount of Out of this World.

Not much of a team player

2011-09-22T09:15:00.002-04:00

Most of the time, as a parent, and even a citizen of the world, I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing.

I just move from moment to moment and hope I don't inflict any lasting damage to bodies or psyches.

But, from the important to the seemingly inconsequential, decisions must be made. Navigation charted. And though we see our destination, we rarely have a clear path. We can never really know with certainty which choice will affect which outcome.

I ebb and flow with and against convention.

I hate dance class. I've made no pretense of liking it, though I wish, for her sake, I could manage a better poker face.

I've been working on that.

But as often as I swallow my misgivings I also push my preferences.

We all carry our own experiences. Prejudices. Pride. It's the thing that makes rebellion so intoxicating. Every experience is unique to the one who experiences it.

I talked her out of Girl Scouts and into 4-H.

I plan on indexing flyers for pee-wee football in the revolving file.

I'm wondering if I can convince them Disneyland is really just a bowling alley in southern Maine. "Hey kids ... look ... It's Vacationland."

I'm hoping neither of my kids get tattooed, but I know I'll learn to accept their bodies with scribbles.

And yet, when The Champ came to me and said the only thing he wanted for his fird birfday was a skateboard, I barely hesitated. First things first: Helmet. Pads. Board. The three musketeers, all for one and one for all.

I'm not sure what possessed me: I just kept invoking the holy trinity: Helmet. Pads. Board.

And as he was working on balance, low and slow on the driveway, I quietly thanked the dogs and dogesses that I didn't have to sit in the bleachers at the little league field passively rooting against someone else's kid on an opposing team.

He's a year older, now, and still dragging his board out on the driveway from time to time.

He wanted to go with me (and bring his board) when he found out I was writing a story on skateparks.

But when he saw "the big kids" doing their thing ... he wanted to leave his board in the car and just watch.

Then he wanted to go home.

And practice.

Autumn of our youth

2011-09-21T10:55:00.002-04:00

Ok ..

Which of you wiseapples went and told him to grow up overnight?

We need to have a chat.

Usonian disciple

2011-09-20T11:26:00.002-04:00

Legos are his medium.

Open to interpretation

2011-09-19T16:32:00.002-04:00

The homework instructions say:

"Place the number of the word on the left in alphabetical order on the right."

I am so tempted to have her list ...

Eight,

Eleven,

Fifteen,

Five,

Four,

Fourteen ...

Friday Craftacular is back ... and refusing to do its homework

2011-09-16T10:00:00.000-04:00

Instead we'll just be making it up as we go along.

VEGGIWRAP CUFFS

You've seen these wraps on vegetables, right?

They make pretty cool cuffs. Just affix a bit of felt and double sided tape and slip on your wrist. We used a pre-made felt owl.

WHY DID THE RUBBER CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD?

Why to stretch its legs, of course.

*I'll wait until you stop laughing*

Ittybit saw this picture in a Highlights magazine and started begging for clay.

Now I'm thinking maybe she has a future with Aardman Studios.

God, I miss her ...

2011-09-15T12:00:00.001-04:00

at times like these:

Upside down

2011-09-14T09:30:00.003-04:00

Bad news: Climate change (or a tropical storm) is turning our property into a lush, mosquito-ridden swamp.
Good news: Our windows can now cultivate exotic-looking mushrooms.

Bad news: Father-in-law, working on our house, accidentally severed the phone line when digging out the foundation.
Good news: No one calls us anyway.

Bad news: After digging out the foundation father-in-law reports insulating it is practically impossible.
Good news: We can use that money on better windows.

The last splash of summer

2011-09-13T14:22:00.002-04:00

Leaves are turning.

Pool is covered.

And summer is sashaying away.

I'd forgotten ...

2011-09-12T14:42:00.003-04:00

how many arguments tend to erupt during the course of home improvement.

Maybe they should call it home wrecking.

How was your trip? Let me take your coat. Here's your hammer

2011-09-09T08:59:00.006-04:00

Lulu is in de howse!

Which means her person, Dappa John, will be sorting out a couple-a-few problems around here.

Like the porches.

And the windows.

And the foundation.

Our looking like the Clampetts days are numbered.

I think it's a law ...

2011-09-07T10:00:00.002-04:00

Because all baking should be the product of empirical data and not tossing ingredients into recipes that look similar to the ingredients of which you ran out, real bakers would probably call the police if you tried this in their kitchens:

CHOCOLATE CHIP PANCOOKIES

CREAM (for way too long because you put the blender on and walked out of the room to do something else)
*Two sticks salted butter (who wants to deal with the one stick of shortening the recipe required? Not me.)
* One cup granulated sugar (no brown sugar in the house that wasn't in brick form).
ADD
* Two eggs (one just looks insufficient)
* Some vanilla (It smells good, so add more than two measly teaspoons)
* Some salt (probably should go in the flour mixture, but it all goes in the same place, right?
GRADUALLY (by the teaspoon) ADD
*1 1/2 cups of all purpose flour and 1/2 cup of add-only-water pancake mix (because ... well, they're both powdery)
THEN JUST TOSS IN (not bothering to stir)
* an entire bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips (because whomever thought two cups is enough is just plain mean).

SPOON onto a parchment-lined baking sheet (because who needs another pan to clean) and bake in a 350 degree oven until the edges are golden brown. (Try not to be alarmed when the blobs of batter look like melting ice cream in the oven).

Makes about four dozen cookies (half of which will be either raw in the center or burned) that you will probably need to eat with a fork.

or better yet.

Just eat the batter and pretend it's a dessert mousse.

Wink and a promise

2011-09-06T09:52:00.005-04:00

Dear Ittybit,

You go back to school with fewer teachers, more students in your class and a political mindset that views public education as an entitlement (the pejorative definition). Yet, I am reminded you are still at an advantage. And we need to be grateful.

We also need to be present.

Love,

Mommy

Sign of the times ...

2011-09-04T08:59:00.007-04:00

So ... You know I joined a new group last month, right?

The ranks of the unemployed.

Well, I also figured out that it's not the worst thing in the world.

It may even turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

It's not just me thinking ...

2011-09-01T15:37:00.003-04:00

"Hmmmm, Barbie must be dealing with that not-so-fresh feeling."

Right?

I'm not sure what some silly crafter was trying to say ...

2011-08-31T18:31:00.004-04:00

Either way, it seems like a$$vice.

So ... if you wash your husband's new iPhone ...

2011-08-30T08:30:00.004-04:00

Can you blame Hurricane Irene?

Turns out the Apple Store people can. Dog bless them.

If I ran the circus ...

2011-08-25T10:14:00.000-04:00

I would not be putting the superheroes in the back ... where you can't even see them.

No one ...

And I mean NO one ...

wants to sit on a superhero.

Couldn't leave without saying ...

2011-08-23T11:05:00.006-04:00

I've met and worked with some really amazing people in the past 14 years.

I wish I had photographed each and every one of you.

And then there are days like these ...

2011-08-22T20:09:00.001-04:00

When you just feel like screaming.

Maine event

2011-08-20T22:35:00.008-04:00

Maine.

That's where we were in case you were wondering.

We left our troubles - the pink slip, the house full of fleas and a mildly depressed cat mourning the loss of her canine pal - to fester while we spent two weeks in a presidential hometown in the upper U.S.

We saw family.

And old friends.

We even met some new ones.

During the course of two weeks we had many laughs, however the best came on the last day of the recreational program at KBIA. We stayed past swim lessons so Ittybit could take part in open swim.

The Champ wasn't interested. No amount of convincing could get him back in the water.

"No. No. I'm not swimming. Nope. Not going in. Not swimming."

He was content watching from the sidelines and eating his bag of chips from the snack bar.

Until.

He noticed his swim instructor had removed her sweatshirt and was getting into the pool.

To swim with another little kid his age.

"I'm going swimming now!"

Just in time.

***

Even with all the excitement (and the anxiety that comes with it), I have to admit It feels good to be back home.

Breakfast with Martin

2011-08-04T11:15:00.003-04:00

And a song:

"If you want to be a grump that's okay, but could you be grumpy a little further away? It's not that I don't love you, 'cause you know I do. Sometimes I'm grumpy too.

If you want to be a nudge that's okay, but could you be a nudge a little further away, it's not that i don't love you 'cause you know I do, sometimes I'm a nudge too.

I think I understand exactly what you're going through. Oh your oatmeal's lumpy and your socks are all bumpy, what's a poor kid to do?"

- Music for Aardvarks

Obituary for the Old Barkley Times

2011-08-02T14:48:00.019-04:00

Madeline J. Dog, 113.75 in dog years, was suddenly called home to snarfel the big beach in the sky on Wednesday, July 27, 2011.

Born on a Columbia County farm in mid-April of 1995, Maddy Jerk Monkey Hose Dog, as she was affectionately called by family and friends, was the smallest and quite possibly the homeliest of a large, multi-generational family.

Her mother, whom she knew only briefly, was a black Labrador-mix and was whispered to be the canine predecessor of the OctoMom. Her father, whom she never met, was known as That Bastard Who Got Over the Fence. Both have reportedly returned to the breeding ground in the sky.

Madeline is survived by her adoptive family: Siobhan, her adoptive mother; Jed, some guy who never formally signed the paperwork and always referred to her as "YOUR DOG IS BEING A JERK"; Annabel, a foster sister, who misses her but kinda wants a puppy; and Silas, a foster brother, who would feed her from his plate accidentally on purpose.

She is also survived by a cat, Ariel, who was a late-in-life friend and not entitled to bragging rights.

Madeline was predeceased by at least one sibling, a direcl litter-mate named Chester, who, became affluent in adoption and who, in the early years, was reunited occasionally with his sister by way of dog-sitting. He was tragically struck and killed by a car in his prime. The motorist was never located, however there was some question as to whether Chester bore some culpability in his own untimely death, as he was rumored to have been a car chaser.

She was also predeceased by an adopted sibling, Maggie Dog, who was her dearest and closest canine pal for more than a decade.

She often referred to herself as "one member of a two-dog wolf pack."

Madeline was estranged from her remaining siblings.

She bore no children, a credit to her natural abilities of entertainment.

Also ... the result of spaying.

Madeline was educated in the style of 4-H Obedience (Method trained) and won praise for her recitals of limited runs. She never flaunted her abilities outside the spotlight, however, refusing most performance requests.

Her favorite pastimes were playing with her Squeaky Nun toy, drinking out of the toilet, begging for food, stealing food not quickly provided to her, knocking over small children and licking pants.

She was a lover of balls, sticks and playing fetch. She refused to "drop it."

She enjoyed yearly trips to Maine, where she loved to romp on the beach and chase after dogs owned by former presidents of the United States. She also liked to reinforce the point that she would not perform (nor would she "drop it") for the Secret Service. Luckily, she was never harmed as a result of these hystrionics.

She especially enjoyed trips in the car to just about anywhere ... the grocery store ... around the block ... the end of the driveway. Anywhere except the vet. In her youth, she would curl up in the back window of her adoptive mom's old, Civic hatchback. People from all over the country would wave and laugh as they drove by. Her mom couldn't see them, however, as Madeline was a large dog and often would block the rear views.

She also enjoyed watching the opening sequence of "The Slaves of New York," a movie based on a Tama Janowitz novel and featuring a Dalmatian named "Andrew."

She was also known for barking intermittently, jumping up and running out of rooms for no apparent reason, and other occasional irregularities.

She was not known for her humanitarianism, however she was modest. She didn't like to make a big deal out of staying by the side of people who were in the throes of painful back spasms. She often reveled in looking at them nervously and with undue concern, though she did not like to be known as a "Nervous Nellie."

She would prefer people just forgot she ever cavorted with a cat. That was AFTER she got the cataracts. She truly thought it was a meowing, battery-operated toy one of the foster kids had dragged home.

Near the end of her days, she enjoyed sleeping, eating and pooing, sometimes all at the same time. She also enjoyed barking at her family when they sat out on the porch. They would let her out. She'd want to go back in. Then out. Back in. She wasn't indecisive, she just assumed the family being OUTSIDE was completely unnatural. She wanted them inside, staring at the TV where they belonged.

The end came quickly for Madeline. However, she always liked to keep them guessing. For the past three years she had gained considerable skill at clutching her chest and shouting: "This is the Big One, Elizabeth. I'm comin' to join ya, honey," and then recovering completely.

She will be missed by all who knew and loved her, but she is looking forward to being reunited with her friend and beloved sister, Maggie, so they can relive their kibble days.

A private burial was held after bedtime.

Contributions in lieu of flowers, preferably pigs' ears or some other delicacy based on a dare or bi-product, may be sent to the humane society of your choice.

Imaginary parenting

2011-08-01T06:53:00.000-04:00

BICKER-BICKER-BICKER

BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER

BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER

BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER

Hey, Guys?

How about you NOT bicker for the rest of the trip ... or at least until we get to our first destination? OK? Whatdoyasay?

BICKER-BICKER-BICKER

BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER BICKER-BICKER-BICKER

OK. ... How about this:

How about you take your imaginary pencils and - silently - write your complaints on these here imaginary sheets of paper, which you will then insert into my imaginary suggestion box, which I store in the front of the car for just these occasions ...

BICKER-BICKER And then what? BICKER

And then I will pretend to read them tomorrow.

A good life ...

2011-07-28T12:36:00.007-04:00

A great dog.

Madeline J. Dog
April 15, 1995 - July 27, 2011

Disorderly conduct

2011-07-27T16:04:00.006-04:00

I wish I was a stickler instead of just pretending to be one.

It's easy to seem fussy within the margins of a viewfinder. You shove the mess to one side and focus on the part that seems calm and serene. It's an illusion.

You can't fool yourself into thinking you are organized and disciplined, however, or that you aren't failing at the basics.

You tell yourself it doesn't matter, but you aren't convinced.

You tell yourself tomorrow will be different.

Tomorrow they will brush their teeth after breakfast.

They will eat more protein and fewer sweets.

He will change his socks and she will go to bed on time ...

Even if you have to force them.

Tomorrow you will be more of the mother they need you to be, and less of the one that you are.

Because underneath the Pick-Your-Battles parenting style you've adopted, you know you are picking all the wrong ones.