Seasonal Steerosaurus

There are a few things in this world that I've found I am already too old to enjoy.
Wearing barrettes, for example; it's bobby pins now.

There are many more things that I suspect I should reconsider at my age but continue to do anyway.
Dancing at pizza joints, perhaps (but only when there's a live band).

And then there's a third category: things I can't wait to do when I'm old.
First on that noble list is owning a cement goose.

You know the kind; they sit stoically on porches and doorsteps of septuagenarians, dressed seasonally in handmade knitted capes and little hats. There is a change of outfits for each month, preferably.
And those months not lucky enough to house their own major holiday would still be assigned a theme. Perhaps an apple apron for September? Maybe a tiny goose-sized umbrella for April? (I would foreseeably need to hot glue that on..)

And yes, I've considered fighting the stereotype and investing in a goose now, at thirty-six. But then I thought that maybe our Steerosaurus, leftover party favor turned interesting living room decor, might well serve the purpose.
I noted that his paper-mache skull and horns make the perfect blank slate.

So while my options are a bit limited due to his odd shape (head only); he does indeed dress for the holidays. Thus far we've celebrated Christmas, Valentine's day, and St Patrick's Day together.







Ah, the things my family lets me get away with. ;)

AL

Seeing

To clarify from my last post, the writing class I'm attending is very small; not at a college or university but at our local arts center, low key and comfortable.
And, as I mentioned, my most difficult task there is creating fiction.  Making up stories seems infinitely more difficult than simply putting random thoughts to paper, as I do here. So while I did complete my character sketch, it was one of the few pieces thus far that I was embarrassed to read aloud.  It felt foreign, forced.

I spent a lot of time thinking about this last weekend. I thought of how much I like real people.

I thought of a funny conversation between friends at our book club meeting Friday night; their varied reaction to the same story.
I thought of how personalities evolve; namely, that of my Max whom I've suddenly discovered is no longer shy, but outgoing and funny -- his actions to prove it.
I thought of the two toddlers sitting next to me at a performance on Saturday night. How their mother was borderline abusive and whether or not they'd ever manage to break that cycle.
I thought of the group of women (and three men) dancing with absolute abandon to lyrics by my favorite shoeless poet during a work out.
I thought of the sweet little Chinese boy whom I shared a moment with on Sunday while picking up Jer's pork fried rice, his mother working so hard in the restaurant while he kept himself entertained amongst the patrons. He was practicing the script of those intricate chinese characters with the aid of a Chinese/American picture book. I sat down near him, he smiled up at me and pointed to a picture.  We began a game in which I'd say the word in English, he'd repeat it and then say it in Chinese. Most likely a teaching game that his mother constructed. I wonder if he knows that she works long hours in the oil and steam just for him.

I saw all of this and more, in only a 48 hour period.
There are so many stories already out there.  Stories that are absolutely true and possibly even interesting.

Lastly, while purging old coloring books from our art cabinet, I came across Kirby's sixth grade writing folder.  In it, he'd written a very glowing review for Where the Red Fern Grows:
"The reason that this book is so amazing is because of the vivid detail described by Wilson Rawls. He grew up where this story takes place in the Cherokee country of the Ozark Mountains. His descriptions of the valleys and forests and rivers were seen by his own eyes.
Seeing is the key to being a magnificent author."  

So maybe that is all it takes.

(Another great quote from that report: "Dogs are great creatures. Why do they always die?"
He read Old Yeller that year as well, poor guy.)

AL

I Spy... (no new ideas)

I'm trying to brainstorm a character outline for my writing homework.

Instead I'm staring at my bookshelves and thinking of the kids' I Spy books.
You know the ones; they're addictive and sometimes frustrating, and you wonder who collected all those interesting little objects?

I made my own.

Click the pic to enlarge and see what you can do.
(I refuse to apologize for too much sun in the photographs, because, well, it's sun. In Ohio. In February.)


Can you find three Santas, a Batman, homemade candle with wick;
Felt flowers, small owl, and a big ball of sticks?



Do you see pretty twins, and a fat orange bird;
Two horses, a geisha and shells glued absurd?

Ahh, do you hate me? ;)
That was fun, but I still have no fictional character.
I learned in the very first week of writing class, that while my words flow nicely and I write well under pressure, I am quite vain and unimaginative. Just like the Toby Keith song, I wanna talk about me - what I think, what I like, what I know, what I want, what I seeeeeeee.

Today I see that book shelf. No fake people lurking there that aren't already taken in those pages, all perfectly binded and complete.

Don't you love the feeling you get when turning the last page of a really good book? Just imagine how wonderful it must feel to write the last page.
I bet it's a lot easier than the first.

AL

Happy Hearts Day!

You are being visited by the spirits of valentines
Past, Present and Future.

That is to be an olive, of course; my Valentine likes olives.

Pattern from Sewingseed on Etsy.

 Lilah's Star Wars valentines are here on culdesaccool.com,

found via Pinterest and a good friend. 

***
Also please be impressed that it's only Valentine's eve and Jer has already performed two romantic feats: he caught a mouse for me, and he signed up for Couples Jazzercise this Friday night.

At least one of those deserves its own post.
I know which one will have better pictures!


xoxo
AL

Book Review: It's a Book

I think I'd like to make this a regular feature.
Regular, as in, I'll do it again sometime but I'm not sure when. ;)

What I do know is that I have a very good inaugural edition.
Introducing 'It's a Book' by Lane Smith.
Have you seen it? We were lucky enough to be sent an autographed copy by Lilah's "godbrother" Vince.   Lilah unwrapped and read it to me right away; and while I was familiar with the premise, it was so much more charming that I expected.
A funny monkey is reading a book while a donkey barrages him with questions such as "Do you need a password? Screen name? Wi-fi? Can you make characters fight?" The monkey patiently answers again and again "No, it's a book".
Finally, he shares his book with the donkey, who naturally enjoys it so much that he doesn't give it back.  Poor monkey is forced to go to the library to fetch another.  The donkey shouts after him, "Don't worry, I'll charge this one up for you when I'm done." To which the monkey (technically, the mouse under the monkey's hat) replies "You don't need to. It's a book, jackass."

Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have told you the whole story, but I wanted you to share in the joy that Lilah and I experienced as we read this together for the first time.  It was so much fun.  Of course, that last word is a new one for her, definitely not one of her Kindergarten sight words.  So I did explain how the word is not to be used incorrectly. But I also stressed that she absolutely has my permission to say it to a donkey, especially one that has commandeered her book.

AL

The Birthmark Gave it Away

I don’t mean to sound smug, but it’s not every Mom that supplements their teen’s World Studies chapter on Russian politics by sending in communist nesting dolls.
That’s right, here we have Gorbachev, Brezhnev, Khrushchev, Stalin and Lenin. The smaller they get, the meaner they were.

I was reviewing Kirbs' homework, and not really understanding any of it, when I thought of these little guys, and guessed that his World Studies teacher, Mr. S (who has a blonde mustache closely resembling that of General Custard) might appreciate them.

It was several years ago that the Queen of Thrift a.k.a. my mom handed them to me and said "I picked these up for you because they looked interesting, though the big one does have a smudge on top". To which I replied, "That's not a smudge, that's Gorbachev!"
I then hesitated for only a moment before displaying them prominently in my living room.
Might guests consider me a political extremist? Is it in poor taste to place communist nesting dolls in front of my Idiot's Guide to Understanding Catholicism?
I decided that it simply added intrigue.

Now, however, after reading a little more from a high school history book, I've realized that some of these guys were really bad. And I don't like bad guys.
So I think, if it's okay with Mom, that I'll donate the set to Mr. S and his World Studies class.
Because, of course, his job is to teach the bad so that we can learn to recognize the good.
It comes in all shapes and sizes.

AL

Home

Jer's annual football game in Ft Lauderdale took place this past weekend. Which means this is the time of year when I post disparaging comments about him, cleverly disguised as jokes.
There was a moment on Sunday, while shoveling the driveway, that I thought to myself "Jer could just jump in the ocean right now. He could dig his hairy toes in the warm sand and then jump right into the ocean if he wanted." 
And then I went inside before shoveling his side of the driveway.

But for the most part, I've been happy at home. We didn't get as much snow as originally expected and I even found myself a little disappointed by that.

With Max on the Injured Reserve and Kirby's mock trial season at a close, we stayed close to home. The boys did persuade me with great effort to attend a SuperBowl party; other than that, we've done this: 

 

Please note that our 'Groovin Through The 60's' puzzle was 1000 pieces(!) though technically we put together only 998.  That's what happens when you buy puzzles at thrift stores. 
And, no, that is NOT an adult coloring book.  Though it does technically say "coloring book" on the cover, it's really more of a collection of illustrated song lyrics. 
You see, I received new colored pencils for my birthday and they needed breaking in.
(Pencils thanks to Elaine)
(Illustrated lyrics collection courtesy of EmW)
(She & Him album gifted from Sara)
(Told you I had sweet friends)

AL