theartofit

Like A Song

2009-02-03T11:29:00.010-06:00

You know what's coming up, don't you? The day everyone dreads - or looks forward to. Or forgets. Or feels as though only THEY remembered. Or maybe you don't worry about it because you celebrate your love for life every day ~~ that's YOU, isn't it?

I am so lucky, I have been asked to sing a sweet song for Valentine's this year. There are so many wonderful songs, it is obviously difficult to decide. I would love suggestions.

In fact, tell your favourite sweet song. Maybe you have more than one - give us a list!

What is it about these songs that make them your favourite(s)?

Oh yes, one more thing: I promise I won't ruin your song. :~)

Weather matters

2009-01-28T21:07:00.014-06:00

We're having another "ice storm". That's where it drizzles or rains, and the temperatures are low enough that it comes down as ice or freezes right away. Ice coats everything.

The worst part of it is that the streets are impossible to use. Tuesday evening, from the back of the house I could hear a loud noise: the wheels of a big SUV in the street, attempting to move up the slight incline on which we are situated. As I watched from the front door, the driver was at last able to back into a driveway and turn around to head downhill. Immediately, no more spinning; they just rolled peacefully away, nicely avoiding my son's car parked in the street.

Just as the streets are impassable, so the schools are closed. Tuesday, Wednesday, and now Thursday! The melting began today (Wednesday), but the freezing temperatures on Thursday will continue through the morning. What's that? Ice on the streets. And I don't just mean the ice we have had from people who continue to run their lawn sprinklers through the winter months. You know, those sprinklers which inevitably spread more water on the pavement than on the poor grass fighting for dormancy. Don't get me started!

Oh, I just said the worst part was the ice on the streets--Nope, the worst part is being sick in bed when the kids are home! Oh, the agony, not being able to put them to work properly. My agent, their oldest brother, did get them moving after awhile, but the pull of the video game was upon them. They did get their homework done Wednesday, however, and actually ventured outside in the sunshine.

Having to languish in my little corner of home left me without resources to take photos of what can be a magical time. You see the sparkling ice on the branches of trees and plantlife, the layer of white covering everything else, making daytime ghosts of ordinary objects. I do, however, have some photos from the "ice storm" a year ago. Well, okay, December 2007 but close enough. Things were a little more dire that time. This winter the power company actually made their way through the neighborhoods and trimmed tree branches away from power lines. Seemed an improvement, as we didn't have thousands of homes without power in this city.

Here you are, your reward for reading this far:

We found this beautiful slice of tree trunk along the walk, on our way to a Red Dirt Rangers children's concert. It perhaps demonstrates why so many trees did fall simply from ice.

Although, it does not explain why the tree in our backyard snapped the way it did. Can you tell which piece used to go where?

Oh alright, a little more dramatic, and you can see more of what happened:

It was amazing to see in person, such a large limb changed like that. And it so considerately missed the wretched garage. Why do you think it snapped?

This was a bit of bad luck.

The branch wasn't that big - but fell at just the right angle, I suppose. The car hasn't been the same since. Ho-hum.

Stay tuned for more winter magic from this corner of the world. I have to survive the end of this ailment and possibly a major dental appointment, so be patient, won't you? :~)

{All photos available for closer examination on my Flickr page}

True

2009-01-21T17:44:00.006-06:00

Oh, look!

Why, it's true ~ a new day HAS dawned!

I Wonder Who's Kissing You Now

2009-01-14T20:46:00.014-06:00

Now that recent holidays are over, how are you? Are you taking care of yourself?
I think of you often; of the holiday parties…that little sprig suspended over the doorway…

  I wonder who's kissing you now,
   I wonder who's teaching you how,

It seemed as though every archway, or entry to each greatroom held a stem heavy with the delicate leaves, bowing an invitation. Those green petals whose essence compels the sweet gesture…

  I wonder who's looking into your eyes
   Breathing sighs, telling lies;

It was a coincidence, I’m sure, that I always found your arms encircling, your eyes reflecting the festive holiday lights, twinkling as you hinted to me of my contract with tradition…

  I wonder who's buying the wine,
   For lips that I used to call mine…

Ah, the wine. Is it possible to have an evening more pleasurable—a fire, mistletoe, the wine, your lips…

Hello Dear One,
  I’ve missed you so.

Behold, the "delicate" mistletoe, so sought-after, so... so...

...so attached to its host, as many a partygoer, mmm?

Song lyrics adapted from: “I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her Now”, (1 Feb 1909)

Words by Will M. Hough, 1882-1962

& Frank R. Adams, 1883-1963

Music by Joseph E. Howard, 1878-1961[and Harold Orlob, 1885-1982]

from the Musical Comedy"The Prince of To-Night" [8 Feb 1909]

Group Effort

2008-01-18T15:33:00.000-06:00

Let’s see, we’ve got a murder of crows, a flock of sheep, a school of porpoises.

There would be a leap of leopards, a bloat of hippopotamuses, a skein of ducks.
You could find a gaggle of geese, a flight of butterflies, a mob of kangaroos.

What do we have here?

A clowder of cats!

On a bundle of laundry.

We have a kyndyll of kittens and two adult female cats, Sox and Drea (pronounced “Dray-uh”). Yes, we know how it “happened.” The one night in six months I “happened” to be out to dinner with some girlfriends, Drea, the mama cat, “happened” to get out when it happened that our four-year-old could not close the door properly behind himself. We were waiting to have her neutralised until the two young kittens she had at the time were done nursing. Ahem.

“We” (that rhymes with “me” ) finally were able to get her back in the house 48 hours later. Approximately nine weeks later… well anyway, now we have eight cats in our house. The youngest four are five months old; the two older kittens are nine months old, and Drea is about a year and a half. We are guessing Sox could be the same age as Drea, but Sox is much bigger.

You could see a run of salmon, an exaltation of larks, or a parliament of rooks. Dodge a bike of hornets, an ambush of tigers, or a crash of rhinoceroses.

There is a feline relay race going on around me right now; the typical early morning exercises. Sometimes I have to put up a blockade to slow them down. On the wooden floors it sounds like a string of miniature ponies galloping through the house. You wouldn’t guess by looking at them that just about a month ago, several of them were at death’s door.

In December, after the effects of the “ice storm” had begun to subside, at least enough that folks could move around more freely on the roads, “we” took seven cats to the clinic to be neutralised. Two males, five females. About a week later, they started sneezing. No big deal, one would think, it’s just a little sneeze, maybe a little head cold or something. My bob, I thought a couple of their heads were going to pop off—seven, eight, nine sneezes in a row! One of the male kittens, Jerry, started hissing and growling at the sneezers every time they sneezed in his face, at first, and then each time he passed them by.

The females seemed to be affected more severely. One day a couple of them were a little slow, the next day they weren’t moving, just sitting there, miserable. I gathered up the two inanimate cats, mother and daughter calicos, and took them off to the vet. Came back with a diagnosis of bronchitis and enough antibiotics for everyone, for four days--renewed four days later, as everyone was still sneezing. The boys, T2 and T3 were great assistants. T2 even helped syringe feed the three girls, Drea and her daughters, Sparkles and Sweetheart, when they would not eat on their own. I made a large pot of chicken soup for them.

The first two nights I was up for a couple nighttime feeds. The three who were down were closed in the bathroom with the heater the second night, to keep them warm. Then next day, they actually walked out on their own. By the end of the day, they were beginning to eat on their own. I was so very worried. I have not had a cat ill to this degree before. I am guessing they picked up the germs at the clinic of neutralisation; the females were under anaesthetic longer, so they were more greatly affected. It’s a theory.

We still have a few sneezes going on, but I am counting on these creatures now being stronger and healthier generally, and that they will get over this soon. By the way, Jerry ended up catching the cold bug last, and soon stopped growling and hissing at everyone else. He was too busy sneezing.

Whether your home includes a charm of finches, a sute of bloodhounds, or a knob of toads, I think it’s important to keep the numbers within reason. Eight cats is clearly too many, nor had we ever intended to have this many. I have come to the conclusion that we will find homes for at least the four youngest kittens, with the caveat that they take the little darlings to a veterinarian and get them a check up. It is much more affordable to do this for one than it is for eight!

It has been a pleasure in so many ways to be entrusted with the care of these kitties. The boys have been very grateful to have them. I get a kick out of the fact that whatever room one passes through in our house, a cat can be picked up and stroked, cuddled. Very soothing. Even my hardworking spouse will stop to caress a kitty.

I had some fun finding the “collective names” I have included here. I saved these for last. They seem to be inspired somewhat by the human panorama:

A business of ferrets; a mess of iguanas; a party of jays; a congregation of magpies; a labour of moles; a plump of moorhen; a watch of nightingales; a pride of peacocks; a family of sardines; a pack of weasels.

Some of the more evocative terms I found:
A bouquet of pheasants; escargatoire of snails; flick of rabbits; army of ants; a caravan of camels; murmuration of starlings.

I was thinking along the lines of “a hangout of teenagers.” However, son #T1, who recently turned 18, let me know it would be “a gang of teenagers.”

So what would it be, a bevy of bloggers; a colony of chroniclers?

41

Drea, Sparkles, and Sweetheart
Here are the girls, all quite healthy and obviously bored.

Solar Power - series

2008-01-13T07:29:00.000-06:00

27 September 2007
Sunset
~ seen from the futból fields

6:46 pm

6:55 pm

7:02 pm

7:06 pm

7:09 pm

7:10 pm

7:14 pm

7:15 pm

(See set on Flickr)

I had promised the entire series of photos of this sunset. It was very intense to be surrounded by that light. It seemed as though the character of the light changed each minute, sometimes within half a minute.

Life is so...daily

2008-01-12T04:40:00.000-06:00

Have you noticed? It’s there, every day. It’s what happens.

All your decisions; the things you said, to whom, and how you said them; what you did and why you think you did it—it’s all there, every day. How and what you say to yourself. The games you played, the songs you sang, the meals you cooked—every day. That’s what brought us to the here and now. I have been thinking about this lately. As I constructed the outline of events occurring in our circle since October 2007, I had plenty to think about.

Some of the happenings which began shortly after Sock Wars II went underway (Sock Wars update coming soon. Truly!):

October:

~ Bank account was accessed, the money used to pay a huge utility bill in another state. This took up an inordinate amount of time, both psychic and physic. I was worthless after a week of that. Today we are dealing with repercussions of this yet affecting us.

The funny thing is, after mentioning my dismay over this to a few friends and acquaintances, I found that this occurs more frequently than one would think. Practically each person with whom I have spoken of this either has had someone access some sort of information of theirs, especially banking, or know of someone who has. After all, the BankGuy we dealt with said the bank wouldn’t likely pursue any criminal complaint because they get “so much of this” every year. Really? Really?!! I think I know which direction my career may be turning…

(as always, please click photo for larger picture)

Now, THIS is War!

2007-10-13T19:05:00.000-05:00

That is, SOCK WARS II. And I am a veteran of last year's inaugeral war. So I should know better. But I needed to build up my strength after dealing with being a little green around the gills, ugh. So here I am. As my cohort admonished me, however, I must get back in the ranks and knit to kill.

Each sock warrior is assigned a target. Therefore, each has an assassin. Knit to kill, send the weapon of death. When the death strike has been received (socks in the mail), target has been assassinated. I have received my Top Secret Sock Wars II Assassination Dossier with my assignment. I must go.

Just wanted to let you know. 'Cos War is Hell. And this is War!

(click logo above for details of war games)

Solar Power III

2007-10-13T07:30:00.001-05:00

I have not forgotten the sunset I started a week or so ago. Here are the next in the series:
(click on photos for larger view)~~okay, this should really work now

27 September 2007
6:49 pm

Actually, this should have been second, but it was such a different view, I was going to save it for another time. Then I took another look.

27 September 2007
7:02 pm

I admit to having cropped out the parked cars in some of these sunset photos. They interrupted my concentration on the incredible sky, so they had to go. Unfortunately, it made for a smaller photo here. So, click to have it fill your screen, and see what you think.

Naked Ladies

2007-10-11T13:15:00.000-05:00

My son (T2) was overheard in preschool talking with his friends at great length about naked ladies. Yes, he was telling them, he really liked naked ladies. In fact, we had naked ladies at our house. They were in the backyard! And on and on he went. To her credit, the teacher listening in followed the conversation until she could make better sense of it, and finally realised the darling boy was referring to a type of flower! She was quite relieved.

It’s true, of course. We do have naked ladies dancing in our garden. Rather, we did until the plumbing team dug them up last spring. They have bloomed there since we first moved in. My husband was all for having naked ladies in the backyard. When I mentioned the possibility to our youngest (T3), who has never seen them, he was strongly against the idea. "I don't want naked ladies in our garden, no way!" "Why not?" He thought that was the silliest question anyone could ask him.

Naked ladies are so named because the flowers grow on a long stem without any foliage. Flowers appear at the end of the summer, around September. There is foliage, made up of long strappy, dark green leaves. But it comes up in the spring. In fact, we spend the first couple weeks the leaves show up scratching our heads wondering whether we will see a crowd of daffodils, or if half the leaves belong to the naked ladies.

Lycoris radiata (click the photo to ogle some naked ladies more closely)

This photo I stopped to snap on our way to futból practice, so it may not be in the best of focus, but you see the environment and their shape. I had been on the lookout for naked ladies, since ours were too shy to come out this September, and noticed some dancing 'round a tree the next block down from our house. The next day they were gone. Maybe that neighbor thought I was taking notes on the condition of his garden and decided to thin out the older blooms. I found some specific information about Lycoris radiata in Scott Ogden's book, "Garden Bulbs for the South". These have also been referred to as “spider lily” due to their spidery appearance. I think they look like dancers in their fancy red dresses, with arms reaching up to beckon the sky.

And here is a really fine photo of some naked ladies, along with some interesting information. The Lycoris radiata has perhaps a little deeper significance in Japan than those grown decoratively in the southern United States.

In the spring, if you see some long green leaves that lead you to believe you may be seeing tulips or daffodils soon, and yet no flowers follow, don't disturb them. Let the leaves stay. You never know if the naked ladies will come dancing in the autumn, in search of their lovely green dressing gowns.

Morning Light

2007-10-06T18:43:00.000-05:00

(click photo for closer view)

Friday morning: 5 October 2007 7:26 am

This is what I glimpse of the sunrise from our front porch. I treasure this soft morning love light. The rest of the day the sun was bright--blaringly so, with hardly a cloud in the sky. But I remember this softness and find peace.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

2007-10-06T18:31:00.001-05:00

You know what they say about curiosity and cats...

This is our mama cat, Drea. I was sitting in the next room when I heard a metallic sound. I turned around to see her peeking outside the frontroom window. She actually does this fairly often. There is a wide sill she walks along, which is what her right hind foot is upon.

Solar Power II

2007-10-05T06:51:00.000-05:00

27 September 2007
6:55 pm

(click photo for more detail)

Sunset, as seen from the futból fields.
(click for Flickr photos)

Check, Mate!

2007-10-04T12:40:00.000-05:00

The boys have joined Chess Club at school. Imagine a smallish (almost stuffy) cafeteria filled with 40-50 exuberant young chess players, all talking, laughing, making noise at once. And playing chess! The kids do this the way they approach many experiences in their life, with joy, enthusiasm, and the expectation of fun! I am there each week, as our 4-year-old is the youngest in attendance. All students in the school are welcome. There are quite a few as young as first grade who participate.

The Chess Club instructor even gives lessons later in the evening at a local coffee shop. He has been following the World Chess Championship, giving the kids updates each week. I just read that our instructor's favourite, Viswanathan Anand, an Indian grandmaster, won the championship tournament Saturday.

The photograph shows one of my favourite things about kids playing chess. They won't give up. T2 and his game partner went 'round and 'round like this for quite awhile. Can you imagine? Only two pieces left.

Solar Power

2007-10-03T22:26:00.000-05:00

27 September 2007
6:46 pm

(click on photo for a closer look)

This was taken from the futból fields. It is the first in a series of photos, in which I recorded the dramatic changes occurring within 25 minutes as the sun set. As time is growing short tonight, I will post more pics tomorrow.

Shadows = Fire

2007-10-03T09:30:00.000-05:00

We have begun an odyssey in the world of football/futból/soccer. We haven’t had anyone playing for a couple years so, while not an entirely new experience, we are seeing with new eyes. As with our eldest son, the youngest is playing on the sidelines while his older brother has practice or plays in the game. This is where the adventure begins.

The fields are vast: a configuration of 18 fields, each of which is built at a different level of height. There is no wind break, and I can tell you that even if you are scheduled to play on the pitch between two hills, it doesn’t really make a difference when it comes to the wind. The spectators go home exhausted just from the effort to keep from being blown over. That is not to detract from the beauty of the green rolling hills punctuated by goals and flags. Living in a town, this is the greatest stretch of open land one has the opportunity to see.

Amongst the hills is a rather spectacular drainage system, one they have developed since Eldest was playing (association) football. It is spectacular in the way that it outlines the side of the fields we use the most. A shallow concrete trough suitable for walking when dry, all points lead downhill to a drainage tunnel large enough for even an adult to crawl through. Youngest (T3) has informed me that this tunnel is his basilisk. Or, where his basilisk lives. It varies.

We were exploring the basilisk’s territory one night during futból practice, and I had an opportunity to snap some shadow play from our position atop its lair. (Conquerors, we!)

We take advantage of shadows when we can. The illusions that are created by shadows, or those which we can create with them are so much fun to see. Looking at our shadows in the late day sun reminded me of the ancient paintings discovered in caves. Do you know what I’m talking about? The images of people, in particular, at least in the images I’ve seen, always seem elongated, reminding me of shadows.

So that got me thinking about the way humans have been portrayed through time. We see the somewhat simple, flat-looking designs of the cave dwellers and even Egyptian artists. I am referring to the actual, literal resemblance to people. Comparing to more modern artists who have produced almost photographic quality images of their subjects. My disclaimer here is that I am definitely not an expert on art, nor artists, and I am strictly speaking generally, and as specified. I consider all the images to which I am referring, to be far more complex than what one might think at first glance.

I was thinking of what type of light source was available for the cave artists, and whether they always worked from memory and imagination. Did the light source affect how they formed their paintings? Would the paintings be different if they had different type of lighting? Did artists sometimes portray what they saw in shadows? I would love to know what was going on behind the scenes, what they were thinking.

O, La Luna

2007-09-27T10:29:00.000-05:00

Poor misshapen moon

Cradled by the clouds

Is she not lovely, la luna

Within These Walls

2007-09-26T12:29:00.000-05:00

This is probably one of the worst times for me to write something. Because I can’t write on the subject I would like very much to. Not kittens. I have photos of kittens, which I have been thinking of a lot lately, for a number of reasons. Two plus four reasons, actually. 2 + 4 = 2, to be exact.

I have been thinking of kittens to help sooth a monumental headache which took residence within my skull, as of Thursday last and stayed, an unwanted visitor, until Saturday night, after the concert. That would be the Thursday and Friday we had late dress rehearsals for the concert.

It’s the concert I want to write about. The first concert of the season, some wonderful music. Choral music. Words set to music, what could be better? This is my second season singing with this organisation, and each time we begin work on the next material I find myself quite pleased with our director. He is very knowledgeable about the music—not just as a good conductor, but he tells us a lot of background for each piece, and the nuances of the particular period of music from which the piece hails. I learn something new each set of concert music we explore. As if adding to my vocabulary, as music is the language I speak.

But I can’t talk about it right now. I am having a hard time making sense, so hang in there as you read this. I feel as though I am still recovering from this headache thang, whatever it is. I know folks are sincerely trying to be helpful, but why is it everyone is trying to give me allergies? It goes, how are you, or are you okay, depending on the degree of grimace in my expression, I imagine. Describe a headache that won’t go away, and they give you an allergy. It’s allergies. No, it can’t be allergies; we don’t have any of those. (We are very fortunate.) And it doesn’t match up, anyway. Last Wednesday T3 was home, sleeping all day with… a headache. Well, he had a fever, too. Then it was I with the headache, then T2 was home Monday with… a headache. Well, he had a scratchy throat and felt weak, too. It was almost a relief when I made a connection between what ails me and the boys being ill. I may not let well-meaning friends give me allergies, but it’s surprising what I was willing to give myself. It’s all in my head—so close to the brain, you know?

The boys only suffered a day, each. I am still feeling the effect of whatever the headache is. I wonder if it has anything to do with my decision to stop taking caffeine. Ha! No, it is not the cause of the original ailment, but I didn’t think I could feel any worse, so why not detox as long as I was so miserable. Nothing would touch this headache. Admittedly, I only tried ibuprofen with a little coffee; the adrenaline from the concert performance gave it the final little kick, and by the time I returned home, I was feeling better overall. Yet, there’s a lingering something, but after having 2 cups of full strength coffee every day for months, I suppose it could be expected. What a relief it will be, once I’m clear of the caffeine. I do not like being dependent like that—at some point, you have to have it, or you suffer.

And now, as my suffering is easing, so shall I ease yours and end this. I’m going to go think of kitties, maybe find three or four to pet, so soothing don’t you think? And then, a strong cup of decaf tea. Mmm, it doesn’t sound quite right, does it?

Yes, I'm in Tune--with the Universe

2007-09-20T13:34:00.000-05:00

Do you know what it’s like to have a moment when it seems the universe is really clicking for you? Everything falls into place at the right time, just when you need it to. For me, it usually follows a period of at least mild panic brought about by worry due to conflicting information or schedules, seasoned with some confusion.

Well, my friends, everything fell into place yesterday, at least for this week. Thank goodness. I was almost having a moment of regret for feeling smug, comparing my meager agenda with some friends of mine, who you know had overcommitted themselves and their children. All it took was a couple comments that we seemed busy. A little ray of doubt streaked across the calendar, as I realised we had three big things on for Saturday. A major concert (me, with audience member husband), two futból games back-to-back added this week (T2), and an event we were relying upon for a rare family outing. All it took was reading the information page regarding the outing to see that it was for Sunday, and it felt like all was right with the world. Amazing how well things can go when you pay attention to details. Deep breath, and let it out! Now, all we have to do is determine how to get from the games back to the concert venue and have the squids attended to for the evening. Big brother (T1) to the rescue? Ah-ha!

We’re not that busy, really. This week it’s two futból practices, 3 rehearsals, chess club, a concert, a family outing, additional time on tech preparations for a theatrical show, a get-together for a pregnant friend, one sick day (T3), and the regular weekly obligations of school and work and skateboarding (T1). Not every person is involved in every activity. Next week subtract 2 rehearsals and a get-together, increase time on the theatrical production, exchange the outing for a futból tourney, and as you can see, it’s much different.

Enough of that nonsense. I have to show you something. When I see this, I always smile. It’s as though they are smiling at me, and I can’t help but return the favour.

It’s a party! Look at all those smiling faces. Sunflowers!

These are wildflowers—prairie flowers?--they are smaller than the sunflowers which produce the large seed heads, the edible seeds. These sunflowers showed up this year on their own. A lovely large cluster in the garden, such a pleasure to see in the morning sun. I guess we can thank the birds in their willingness to help in seed distribution.

The sunflowers are beautiful and plentiful this year. They can be seen in untilled fields, between subdivisions and shopping developments. The road we take to the futból fields is lined with them. They welcome us every time we drive to practice sessions.

One last photo for the road (click it for greater detail):

Aren’t they cute? I think they are making plans for later.

A Little Aarrr! and Aarrr!

2007-09-18T08:54:00.000-05:00

(click me fer a better look, ye scoundrels!)

Ahoy Matey! I be here to give ye a few words in anticipation of “Talk Like a Pirate Day”. T' lovely, fair lass whose writin ye be accustomed t' be readin, be busy wi' her singin this fine bstarboard e'enin, and I saw me chance t' take o’er.

Listen up now, International Talk Like a Pirate Day is comin up quick, and don’t forget it! It commences September 19, t’ same as every year. Except for them rascals in Australia, they somehow got it into their heads they had t’ be celebratin it the 22nd, what be up with that? The scurvy dogs, they get the weekend that way, Aaarrrrrr!

Me, I’ll be talkin like this th' whole week! It be entertainin for the young sprogs—and we have quite a few who be needin attention, I can tell you! When they don’t be wi' their sweet, dedicated mother, they be playin wi' me tail or bitin me ankles. Thar ain’t nothin t' be done t' stop ‘em. Aye, it be good fun! Aarrr!

I must be off now, an’ smartly. ‘Tis time t' be climbin as high up as possible just t' see if it be possible done wi’out some’at leapin off t’ “shelf” to its demise. T’fair, gentle-hearted lass in charge o’ the ship here don’t care for them types of accidents. Sorry, me beauty, but ‘tis great fun, an’ I don’t usually care what happens when I be havin fun. Aaarrrrr!

What follows be some information fer ye, me hearty. I be passin it along for t’ help wi’ yer piratical pursuits this week. On behalf o' this ship full o’ sprogs, I t’ank ye kindly fer stoppin by!

Farewell, ye buccaneers, I am
Official Bob
Piratical Cat

Official site: Talk Like A Pirate Day

Another “official” site, and how to be speakin pirate-like

T’ Newsletter

A bunch o’ pirate videos: piratical-satirical stuff, too

Man on the Street

2007-09-15T12:42:00.000-05:00

What if you were walking along down the street and you encountered a really big man? I mean BIG. He's there, right in front of you, won’t move. He’s cold, doesn't care what you think of him. This man takes up a lot of space. What would you say? What would you do?

I'll bet you would stare. You would have to take a really close look at him, speechless at how large he truly was. Your children might try to climb on him, not understanding.

HE'S BIG.

Really big. (click the photos and he will appear even bigger)

He's art. That's not his name. According to the sculptor, David Phelps, he is the Pastoral Dreamer. I called the gallery to find out. The man is art, and on the street, where the peoples can see (and touch) him.

It is good.

Power Play

2007-09-14T13:38:00.000-05:00

You know you're in the Urban Prairie when:

It looks as though the prairie hedge might cover it, if only these plants would grow just a little taller...

Mmmm, maybe not.

This is found right in the middle of the neighborhood, just a block or so from a catholic school and church, houses all around. Handsome!

(click on photos to make them bigger, if you really need to)

Angels

2007-09-13T10:32:00.000-05:00

Angels and PVs for you.

(please click photo to see larger picture)

When, perchance, you feel in need of support, this is from me and mine to you and yours, my dear friends.

When T2 was between two and three years of age, we would be driving through the neighbourhood to take older brother to school. Whenever he saw the sunlight touching the early morning dew, he would tell me, "Look, Mommie, angels!" It is one of the sweetest things I have ever heard.

And so I give you...angels.

(click also HERE)

Something's Bugging Me

2007-09-10T12:54:00.000-05:00

I don’t know exactly how to say this—and that has been part of the problem for about ten days—but something has been bugging me. Maybe not just one thing.

Have you ever had a notion in the back of your mind, there is something you know, but can’t name it, or you had it a moment ago, but then something else happened, you were distracted, and now it’s no longer on the tip of your mind. Something is missing, or something isn’t quite right.

Well, that is what I have had, all summer. Something was not right. But what? I mean, yeah, it was too hot, we all know that. Too hot is just not right! Then, I started seeing it all over the internet, and I realised I had a clue all along. Birds! I was seeing birds in backyards, gardens, fields all over the world, but not here. Where were they? No birds, no birdsong, no birds in sight. I did see signs of them here and there, as you might expect, showing that they dropped by every so often. They would leave souvenirs to remind us.

I thought I had a clue, anyway. The dear Mister said he saw some of them hiding out underneath cars in a parking lot once, on a hot day. We don’t have proof of it, though—he didn’t have a camera handy. It sounded possible at the time. So, did the heat drive them into hiding? Or was it something more…sinister?

(click to enlarge each photo...if you dare!)

This was on our back door screen: praying mantis, wee hours of the morning.

What about this? How would you like to see this in your car, hanging by a thread? You see it out of the corner of your eye: Surely not, there is surely NOT a spider coming down from the sun visor this close to me, while I’m driving!! I don’t wish that on anyone, it’s very unsafe.

Eh—no, I didn’t take this while I was driving. But I did find another setting on the camera, apparently it—what, makes a slower “shutter” speed? It’s a digital camera, and yes, we do have the instruction booklet, what’s the fun of that, anyway? As you can see, this was a moving experience.

Oh alright, this little thing wasn’t as big and scary as you might think. It did make for some interesting moments of contemplation on my part as I drive home, wondering what I would do if it started moving. Toward me.

Here is proof that the bugs are not all scary creatures. This one is surprisingly colourful, and dare I say it, cute.

Guess which plant this is? I know you can.

Ha! This was taken when the others were holding the large, fairly newly opened seed pods. I’m still waiting for this to throw out some late season flowers. It’s possible, isn’t it?

Now, what is it with the bugs and automobiles? This was taken about a month ago. And guess what?

We found another one in the same place this morning! Same tire and everything.

Okay, another break for a cute bug. In my fog, I thought this was taken a week or so later, but the dates on the photos say only a couple days. And you have to totally ignore the photo numbers, I don’t know what’s up with that. This one was taken later than the others, after there was actually some rain. I’m going to stop trying to sort that one out.

So let’s go with my recollection of what I actually did, supposedly. I thought it was a week between shots, thereby leading me to wonder how this little bug would still be hanging around. I guess my impression of bugs is that they are here and there, everywhere. Although I have to admit I’m on the lookout for that praying mantis at the back door.

Is anybody home? What’s that—a glint in its eye?

I have definitely answered the question of where they get the ideas for creatures and creepy doings in horror/scary movies. Insects! Hallo, nature is creepier than anyone’s imagination, people!

I have proof. Soccer season has started. First time in two years for us. Err, that would be football for some of you, and actually, we are going to call it futból, as our coach and trainer are Spanish speakers. “Football” makes more sense to me. Dunno how they got started calling the so-called American football as such, because they rarely touch the ball with the foot. It really should just be called “kill the guy with the ball” ‘cos that’s all I see. That would free up “football” for “soccer”.

But I digress.

What’s bugging me about soccer/football/futból, you ask? Here you go, this is what we saw last Thursday:

When will it END??

And now, I think I shall have to go somewhere quiet, and possibly dark, and just think sweet thoughts, change the energy waves moving through my jumbled mind… just think of…

(photos also found HERE)

Yes, but WHERE?

2007-09-09T20:38:00.000-05:00

FEED ME

2007-08-30T03:59:00.000-05:00

(please click all photos to enlarge)

Which is it: The cry of “feed me, mama” heard from little birdlings? Or:

“FEED ME, Seymour!” from Little Shop of Horrors?

That’s what I saw when these seed pods began to open. Do you know what plant they come from? No, really, do you? ‘Cos I don’t know the name of it. Can you guess what the plant looks like before the seed pods appear? That would be the flower stage. Mmm, you will have to go with my description, then, because surprisingly, I don’t have a photo of the large, pale pink flowers this plant produces. They are about as big as my hand, kind of floppy like an oversized petunia flower, but with a wider base and without a fluted shape. There may be some buds appearing on one of the plants, so I will report back at a later date, unless some very bright person reading this knows this plant. The plant itself stands about 4 feet high! Yes, true. The seed pods are about six inches across. Just kidding! They are only two inches across at the widest part of the largest pod. (Oops, this is an error--they are only about one inch across. I don't think they have shrunk that much.)

The plants have been standing like this for a few weeks now. I have left them because of their unique appearance, and to see what happens next. They don’t seem to be of interest to birds, so I am considering a harvest and planting seeds in a few places around the garden where the soil doesn’t seem to want anything besides crazygrass. We don’t know how it came about that these plants grew up in our garden, but they have come up three years running, in the same location.

When it rained recently, every single one of the seed pods closed up tight—even tighter than this one in the center. As the sun came out the following day, everything rapidly warmed and dried, and these opened up again, status quo ante.

Every time I look at these plants I think of the phrase, “Feed me.” From the parenting world, it recalls a book, “Feed Me, I’m Yours,” by Vicki Lansky, which I see at various book sales. It is highly recommended for its baby- and toddler food recipes and ideas. The book has been around a long time. I always thought that was a clever title.

I was musing over the command that it is: FEED ME! and the idea of being fed. People speak of being intellectually fed, spiritually fed, fed-up, fed food they like or dislike. Lots of us utilise the internet to visit and make friends. We learn of places and people that previously didn’t exist in our immediate vicinity. Are we being fed, or are we feeding ourselves? We are nurturing ourselves, reaching out to those sharing their gifts: words, images, music, knowledge; feeding our hearts and minds with the connections made across the miles. We are feeding others the offertory of our own talents. Complementary—oh, and complimentary--exchanges spring up as we offer each other support; express appreciation.

I enjoy this camaraderie and this community. I’m having a blast learning the ins and outs of operating this, my own small forum of mischief and magic. Now, before I think of another path to explore for a paragraph, here is a little of…which?

Bean There

2007-08-27T16:34:00.000-05:00

This photo, credit: ZAZ

(click on each photo to see the bigger picture)

We took a trip this summer. Went on holiday. Left the premises. We were on vacation. Took it on the road. Didn’t look back!

Guess where we went? Chicago. I had to go back to renew my non-accent and recall my dialect. And attend a conference, but I’m not talking about that right now. I’m talking about one of our favorite places to visit downtown. It’s a sculpture park, among other things, called Millennium Park.

See? It’s true!

It’s right downtown and across the street from the Chicago Art Institute.

This is one of the most interesting things I’ve ever seen, because of the many ways you can look at it, or see into it. You will understand in a moment. It is the Cloud Gate, commonly known as the Bean. I actually found us in this photo, in the reflection.

Cloud Gate is the creation of British artist Anish Kapoor. That’s not chrome, it’s made of highly polished stainless steel plates. Here is even more information.

If you check the link, you will see that this sculpture park has not escaped the corporate naming syndrome. I was really really hoping, but was disappointed. I won’t name the corporation. The city we live in is rampant with the syndrome. At least the public schools and the library system aren’t named after some wealthy businessperson. Yet.

You have to walk inside the Bean. It is absolutely incredible. Look at all the configurations of each person’s reflection:

There we are, at the bottom. Can you see the wild distortions? How many times do you see us reflected?

Here’s a wider view. This time I used a flash. It makes it easier to track us.

We were able to make a family portrait. Does this make me look too… ?

I don’t know where those little things came from, but they would run away and then spring back to our side. We usually have all our things with us, but the eldest was off on a different adventure for the summer.

You can’t see Millennium Park in the photo, but it is on the right. We’re going around the southwest corner of the park, turning north onto Michigan Avenue from Monroe.

I believe we only went one block north to Madison and turned west.

This is the Wabash Avenue elevated train platform, the “el”. We turned left, or south, and drove under it, on Wabash.

Our trip this summer was tempered by the time involved with the conference. It was probably good for us, in a way, as we usually try to do too many things on each expedition northward. Still and all, it was disappointing that we were not able to stop to see our good friends on the way up or back. But wait--that, in itself, gives us new opportunity--time to plan the next journey!

The good news is we took lots of photos, snaps, pics, close-ups, prints, portraits, mugs, landscapes, clicks, shots, images... and there is much more to tell.

(Check this space often!)

Departure

2007-08-26T00:01:00.000-05:00

I thought I had chosen well. My intention had been to choose someone fearless, strong, yet wise, patient; someone indomitable. I thought I had chosen well. But then, I saw it. In his eyes. It flickered like a votive candle left at the bathroom window until the sides melted just enough for the wax to break through and trickle down and over the edge of the windowsill.

I saw, but didn’t believe. I kept my question short, my comment succinct. “Are you leaving? You can take them.” And there it was. That look. Like a cornered dog on the street. The eyes rolled back and off to the side, then tried to focus on me again, blinking rapidly. “Maybe you should go,” he said, walking into the next room. I stuttered, voicing my objection. “No…Wait! Yes, I will go,” I replied quickly. He turned back to me, his head snapping 'round. He realized what he had said. “No! You’ll take too long. You won’t come back.” He had a point. I wouldn’t. We were back where we started.

“Just go, take them, you’ll be fine.” I was becoming impatient. They were his kids, too, after all. There it was, that flicker of fear in his eyes; that look of bewilderment. He would have to take the boys with him to the store. How would he survive this time? He was tired, hungry! They were coming at him. “Make sure they are wearing clothes,” I reminded him. The stores have rules about that.

Them's Fightin' Words!

2007-08-24T13:20:00.000-05:00

Who you callin' a Pansy?

This is a Tansy. And it looks a lot better today than it did just one short week ago, when, as everyone must remember, it was really dry. And hot. I originally planted the tansy because it was purported to keep ants away, which happened to show up uninvited from time to time. "Just plant it by your door" and that was supposed to do the trick. The ants just nodded and walked around it, harrumph. In the end, we used mint spray to get rid of the ants. I was just going to say, we should have planted mint--but we did! We had a lot of it for several years. And yep, it was around the back door. It even grew up between the brick steps. Gotta love that mint. It doesn't affect the ants the way tansy is SUPPOSED to. The mint finally got tired of the searing heat, and didn't come back this year. ::sigh::

This almost looks like the tansy is out in the wild. In a way, it is. It's growing in the garden next to the house. The "grass" is quite persistent and grows quickly, sending out runners. I think it's called "crabgrass" in other places I've lived. Anyhoo, I don't like tending to it, and so I don't, very often. I'm afraid I'm not a very avid gardener here, having had some spectacular failures. The crazygrass makes a nice green background for the tansy, don't you think?

Here's another longtime resident of my garden - twelve years old now, I think:

Rosemary

Poor dear, almost didn't make it, for the first time. And then, it rained. You can see the new growth. I am waiting to see if it will bloom for us now. Have you ever seen rosemary in bloom? Beautiful!

Catastrophe - Act 1

2007-08-22T21:46:00.000-05:00

[Scene 1: Photo credit to ZAZ (T2)]

Oh, no! How could this happen?!!

Did the kittens make the washer barf them out with the laundry? It looks like the end of the road for these feline felons. And the room looked so nice before--a true CATastrophe.

This is how I found them earlier:

I think they heard us talking about giving them another bath. It looks as though they decided on an alternative. Kind of extreme, if you ask me. I dunno, I had the impression they kind of enjoyed the last shampoo.

Hee-hee-hee.

Caught in a Whirlwind

2007-08-21T20:57:00.000-05:00

That would include activities going on around here; weather changes; thoughts... you name it.

We have gotten the three boys ready for school, which started up this week. T2 and T3 began Tuesday, T1 goes Wednesday. T3--First Day of School for this one, how exciting! He is quiet in new situations. I was very happy for him when he told me, holding up an awkward configuration of three fingers, how many new friends he made. T2 is enrolled in this particular school for the first time. He was worried about being new. He has made four new friends so far--all boys. T1 picked up his schedule, which is printed out in columns. Only one column is understandable--the subject title, thank goodness. This week is the first week for everyone--the parents have a meeting at T2/T3's school Thursday. Whew.

This past Saturday marked the beginning of the season for the choir in which I sing. We had a jumpstart all day rehearsal. What a great day...I had car keys and no passengers! Woo-hoo, I was out and about, in the pouring rain. Pouring!

Which brings me to the weather whirlwind--literally. As the television weatherheads are fond of saying, a lot of weather came our way Saturday and Sunday. Apparently, the tropical storm/hurricane from the Gulf of Mexico blew far enough north to create some weather (haha) for central Oklahoma. Storms ensued, and then it even formed an "eye" and did lots of damage. Sudden floods; at least 6 people died, some from being washed away in their cars; many areas without power, even yet Sunday evening. There were neighborhoods in our city without power that long, but we seemed to have been spared this time.

Here's what we found Sunday morning (click to enlarge all photos--although some look better at the smaller size--ahem!):

The branch fell down right on the spot the mister had parked his car overnight. Fortunately, he had to leave for work in the weeee hours of the morning. He said it was in the worst part of the storm, which would be hard to tell, in my opinion, since the worst part seemed to go on the entire night. Did I tell you it was absolutely pouring rain? It was the maple that dropped that branch. It's hard to tell--d'you see that other tree with the pinky red things all over it? It's hogging the limelight, making it look like it belongs with the trunk of the maple. Don't let it fool you.

You can see this dead branch in the above photo, also:

This dead branch is part of one that housed a woodpecker family a few years ago. The branch reminded me of a musical instrument. Because of its size, I thought bassoon, but something about it also made me think, flute. Maybe this is the type of flute that would produce those whispy, papery tones...

I'll bet you thought this was going to be all about plants, right? Just wait. Adding to our busy morning Sunday, our mama cat, Drea, (more of her story another day) decided to bring one of her kitties out of the closet:

We couldn't tell exactly what she intended to do. She was very concerned about this kitty, but she would walk away from it to eat or drink, then run back when he cried loudly. Drea wanted to play a little, but then would be drawn to minister to her kitten. I thought it was funny she would walk away from him, leaving him all along in the middle of the floor. The walkway, really. On the other hand, since when does a cat care whether it's in the middle of a walkway?

Drea would pick up the kitty, move him a couple feet away, then sooth him. This kept up throughout our morning preparations to leave the house. It occurred to me perhaps she just needed a break--a babysitter, maybe?

This is Drea's female kitten from her previous litter. She doesn't quite know what to make of this little guy. The baby kitty is barely two weeks old, Soleil is four months old. I know, I know. Don't even ask how old Drea is! As I said, I will tell the CAT story another day. Did you notice the little guy's eyes are open?

I have another theory for Drea bringing out this kitten. You know how, in nature, the way things work is "perfect"? Everything happens as it should. A difficult concept for us humans, who are ready to "fix" anything that is "broken." Growing up on a farm, I saw this in reality, over and over again. Well, I thought perhaps this kitten might be particularly in need of tutoring. The mama cat would watch this kitten crawl away from her, and wait for him to find his way back. She would move him, walk away, then come back. This repeated several times. You see, this kitten looks exactly like one of its possible sires, which would be the mother's, errr, brother. So I thought, maybe... nature's Special Education program?

Okay, this is now just about as long as one of my emails, so I should get to the publishing part. Oh, one more survivor of the storm:

Ah, there we go. My eyes feel better now.

The Boys of Summer

2007-08-16T03:51:00.000-05:00

Yesterday we found a way to cool off: The splashpad. These so-called "spraygrounds" are a new phenomenon here, this year. (All photos enlarge, just click on them.)

This one is located where formerly stood the last wading pool in the city. The only pool with a maximum depth of 36 inches. Perfect for little kids. And mommies who can't swim. I was disappointed when I saw them plowing it under.

However, the wading pool had its undesirable traits: No Shade. Anywhere. Difficult to look forward to spending daytime hours in the hot sun with the wee ones, even in the water. Do you know how well kids enjoy reapplying sunblock? Thaaat's right.

There was an ugly little concrete building where you could risk germ exposure and change clothes in a tiny and stuffy room. For some reason, they always had people sign in for the wading pool. There were a couple life guards. One would hide out inside at the sign-in desk. One time a friend of mine was approached by one of these young twits and actually told she couldn't breastfeed her baby there. Being an advanced branch of society, each state of the US is having to enact some sort of law "making it legal" to breastfeed in public. Or not illegal. Such nonsense!! (But that's a whole 'nother topic, for another time.) The news obviously hadn't gotten out to all the city employees that summer. I suppose with the splash pads the city won't need to employ as many life guards. So everybody wins.

Here comes a messenger! He's inviting me to join them, telling me how he got splashed. You can tell which children are mine - the guys most pale. Oooo, I just remembered I can say it is partly from the zinc oxide in the sunblock, yeah, that's right. Not only from hiding indoors from the heat. I did go in the water--after taking "just a few more" photos. Well, I took some in the water, too. Sorry, no photos of me this time (though you would be thanking me this time!). Heh.

I really enjoyed being there. We arrived just after 4 pm and stayed for about an hour. As you can see, there were fountains that sprayed really high, and some parents were carrying their smaller and more timid children into the water. It was lovely, like standing in the rain.

I was a bit concerned about the creepy guy to the right with the camera. You can see him in the last 3 photos. He was taking pictures of the children at the "sprayground"! Who did he belong to? I did sort him out--you can see his child in one of the pics. Whew! Wouldn't want some stranger getting photos of my children.

Here I took ~~my life~~ the camera's life into my hands to snap this one. I really wanted to show more the motion of the wheel. It's obviously spinning in the water. It is obvious, isn't it?

Is this going against the forces of nature?

I mean, is it natural for water to spiral in a circular fashion into a square drain? I was fascinated by the different patterns made by the droplets as the water flowed lightly, then with more strength as the water splashed from the various spots on the pad.

After about an hour, the concrete surface took its toll on its first victim. A scrape on the palm ensured much misery, and questions as to why, oh why do they make the ground surface of these places with rough concrete? Actually, that's a good question. See the pattern painted on the ground? The painted places are actually rougher than the plain concrete.

We retreated to the minivan to return to our street clothes. Yes, the one reason I like driving a minivan: you can change clothes in it, relatively out of sight of the general public. Oh, wait, that's the second reason--the first is being able to transport 5-6 people (usually children) safely in one vehicle.

Back home, after a break hiding out in the thrift store, searching for treasure.

First Things First

2007-08-15T10:11:00.001-05:00

Now let us start the day. First, we make it, the coffee:
(click on each photo to see larger size)

What do you see? Just for fun, how many things can you actually identify in this photo?

Ah, strong coffee in the morning. This coffee’s got legs. Now what do you see?

This isn’t all that easy—what do you see, and why is it there? I’m having trouble, and I took the photos! It’s easier after you’ve had some coffee.

Later in the morning, a pick-me-up. What do you see? A shameless plug for Caribou Coffee, a competitor of Starbucks’, that’s what. Why?

Because when Mister Working Man and I started dating, in St. Paul, Minnesota, we would go to one of the first Caribou Coffee shops ever, which was right around the corner from where we lived. To clarify, we lived in the same building, not household, obviously, since we had just met! (Sorry, just a bit flustered there.) So, we have fond memories, and we look for Caribou Coffee when we travel to points north. It’s a company that started small and is now second to Starbucks in size, and different from Starbucks. Lots of changes since its beginning, but fond memories.

Okay, well I’m starting to come to the surface, so I’d best be organizing some squids over here. More from them--about them!--later.

The Heat is Hot

2007-08-13T15:06:00.000-05:00

(Edited to include description of photo #3--Now, how did that get left out?! Please excuse the interruption)
There has been lots of talk about the weather lately. Everywhere. It is a popular way to begin conversation; safe, innocuous, everyone can relate to it. It’s hot here. It gets very hot, progressively hotter all day, up to 5:00 pm CST. So say the weatherheads on television. “It was hot today, it reached 100 degrees (F) today, very hot, but nowhere near the record of 104 back in 19-whatever,” the fellow chuckles. He can chuckle, he’s inside where it’s cool.

This kind of weather makes me want to hide out. Inside. Try to keep cool without running up the electric bill. That would be okay if I lived alone. No one else would have to deal with the consequent lethargy and depression brought on by lack of vitamin A. But I have the squids, and they need to be out in the sun as much as I. Out in the sun, the air, to run around and get hot and sweaty and so worn out they don’t have the energy to pick on each other.

Today the squids will discover some amazing things. When I was out yesterday I saw this:

A little blue winged insect which was on the move. It was very quick, and I’m surprised I caught it here. It was going in and out of the holes in the earth, from which, I believe, the cicadas come out to change into their winged forms. Notice what the heat has done to the red dirt in our garden. It’s like that all over. Back in the days when I would actually water the garden, I would wait and wait for the water to fill the opening. The crevasse seemed so deep; it was as if the water was being sent to the centre of the earth. Finally, it would bubble to the surface, trickle over a few inches, and drop into another crack to begin again. Right, the chasms are vast and not connected! Near the end of a long, dry summer one is afraid to let the squids out to play without a lifeline or at least a cell phone.

I also saw this:

This feather is near one of the cicada holes.

Hot! It’s hot! One good thing is when you finish hanging laundry out on the line, you can go back to the beginning of the row and take it in, ‘cos it’s dry already. Don’t leave it out too long, it’ll bleach out from the sun. No kidding. Look what we found in our backyard—garden for those who say so:

It’s the TARDIS! You can imagine our surprise. No sign of The Doctor. He’s probably somewhere keeping cool, eh? And wow, did the intense sun do a number on the paint—a perfect example of what happens when you leave something out too long. I don’t know what that alien ship is doing there. Those are not alien beings in the background, however, they are a type of squash plant, which turned out to be actually tiny white pumpkins—but are those actually gourds? In any case, they are suffering, too.

It’s hot! Too hot! I have songs running through my head. In the heat of the summer now, I hear The Heat is On, apparently by Glenn Frey. I had to look it up to make sure I had the right one. My memory had a woman singing it, but I couldn’t find that; I found Glenn Frey. Perhaps he sounds a little like a woman when he sings?

I also hear the Cole Porter song, Too Darn Hot. He’s a genius; he wrote the words and music to this song, and manymanymany others. I finally found the best version I’ve heard in a while, by Judy Barnett. Try this:
http://cdbaby.com/cd/judybarnett2/from/opjn
She sings the original lyrics. This is one of many Cole Porter songs some found in need of “cleaning up” for the general population. Awwww, can you say “censorship”? In fact, even recent versions of this song have used the altered lyrics. Here is the original bridge:

According to the Kinsey report
ev'ry average man you know
much prefers to play his favorite sport
when the temperature is low
but when the thermometer goes way up
and the weather is sizzling hot
Mister Adam for his madam is not
cause it's too too
it's too darn hot, it's too darn hot
It's too too too too darn hot.

Ella Fitzgerald sings a version that has some subtle, some clever, yet definite changes:

'Cording to the Kinsey report
Every average man you know
Much prefers his lovey dovey to court
When the temperature is low.
But when the thermometer goes way up
And the weather is sizzling hot
Mr. pants for romance is not
Cause it's too, too, too darn hot
It's too darn hot
It's too, too darn hot.

Second time:
According to the Kinsey report
Every average man you know
Much prefers his lovey dovey to court
When the temperature is low.
But when the thermometer goes way up
And the weather is sizzling hot
Mr. Gob, for his squab
A marine for his queen
A GI for his cutey pie is not
Cause it's too, too, too darn hot
It's too darn hot
It's too darn hot.

And of course, there are (other) verses – this was just the bridge. I found the lyrics in this form at Wikipedia, so they must be accurate! Right, well I do know they are, being so clever myself.

So that’s what I hear in my head. Another reason I can’t hear you when you speak to me. I see your lips moving, but all I hear is:

It’s too darn hot.
It’s too darn hot.
I’d like to sup with my baby tonight.
And play the pup with my baby tonight.
I’d like to sup with my baby tonight.
And play the pup with my baby tonight.
But I ain’t up to my baby tonight,
‘Cause it’s too darn hot.

It’s too darn hot.
It’s too darn hot.
I’d like to fool with my baby tonight
Break ev’ry rule with my baby tonight
I’d like to fool with my baby tonight
Break ev’ry rule with my baby tonight
But pillow, you’ll be my baby tonight
‘Cause it’s too darn hot.

(Cole Porter)

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

2007-08-09T15:00:00.000-05:00

Scenario: Woman with hearing impairment in the shower. Water running; bathing; washing of the hair; much singing. Yes, singing! Woman has found it’s the best place for vocal exercises: warm, moist air, solitude, sound of shower dampens outside sounds. Although in this case, the type of hearing impairment causes the speaking and singing voice to be resonated in the head completely, filling the consciousness with only that sound, creating a serene rehearsal space.

I am this woman.

This is, indeed, a serene moment. The spouse and children have left the premises for a promised couple of hours. There will be no one within striking distance who needs anything right now. Ahhhhhhhhh… Let us pause here and feel that sense of peace that comes with this knowledge of being…just being alone in the house; like the quiet after a storm…

Okay, now start singing. Do the warm up, the light vocalizations as you lather the skin. Begin the intervals as you rinse out the first shampoo. Remember to breathe--deep breaths! Increase volume as you progress into the melodic exercises, modulating up by half-steps each time. Scrub in the second shampoo.

AHHH!!!

“We’re home, we’re home” ::knockknockknock:: on the open door as he repeats “WE’RE HOME!”

“AHHH!!! You scared the heck out of me!!!”

“I just wanted to let you know.”

Never mind that I ignored the water going cool a moment earlier. That would have been ::THEM:: using the kitchen faucet.

This happens at least three times a week; more often, when the eldest son is in house (much to his chagrin). Not the shower surprise—no, if that were the case, it would have to be planned—and hey, I was talking about my child, don’t be thinking like that, oh! Tsk, tsk…

The hearing impairment is due to a perforation of the eardrum which didn’t heal closed from a severe infection two years ago (It’s healed, just not closed). Result: Serious reduction in volume from outside sources, with lack of clarity as a result of loss of high tones, which would be the range in which we hear consonants. Very disappointing, to say the least!

Now you know why, when I’m in a room, concentrating on a task, or banging pots and assorted utensils around in the kitchen, or near a running faucet, or actually, when any other device or person who is making another sound at the time, I either jump when I turn around and see you six inches from my face, as the first realization of your presence (son #1 hates that), or can’t understand a word coming from your lips.

Have you ever spoken with your parents, who are much older than you, or elderly folks, or others likely to have some sort of hearing loss (teenagers? heh-heh T1), and then later have a conversation with them where it becomes clear they don’t know what you’re talking about, making you feel hurt because you think, surely, what you had to say is worth their remembering it! yet it is plain to see they haven’t--? I know you have. It could be that they didn’t understand what you said the first time ‘round.

This blogging stuff is wonderful—the above written notion just occurred to me as I wrote. I think it's a valid consideration. Now, I just need to figure out what’s up with the B-WHAT! syndrome (But—We Haven’t Addressed That!). ‘Cos I know the entire household couldn’t have the hearing loss they exhibit. That’s right, that’s how we speak at home, very formal. Well, that’s all I could think up in the moment. Maybe you in the audience would share your more clever anagrams for this affliction?

A First Look

2007-08-07T13:29:00.000-05:00

I had an idea I would like to write something. It came from a realization that it's not only a desire of mine, but fast becoming an essential outlet of expression. That, and my ability to be wordy and redundant. Any lucky recipient of an email from yours truly can attest to this. Although, the end result is not so much verbose due to the inclusion of the inessential, as it is brimming with the exuberant reflexion from within the mind's eye. I like to play with words, rein in the redundancies, and here and now, share the results.

This is not my only avenue of creative expression. I also find my breath in music and visual arts. I look forward to this new-fangled electronic theater through which I may share, contribute, collaborate, trot out, ask for advice, learn something new, and have fun through it all.

What say we get to theartofit?