in the butterfly tent…

in the kiddo’s room at school, the new butterflies have come out of their chrysalis’s. The kids can sit, one at a time, in the little tent with six butterflies. And while they do, this beautiful cd, A Pink Whale and a Very Tall Tree, sings along; sings about the little things that, when one is very young…or, still young; are so very, very big. “This is butterfly music!”, classmate Hazel declared. It is indeed. And more.

Shana has made one beautiful, magical cd. Check it out, and don’t forget to see her whimsical animations, too.

aieee

“So when you catch this fish, what are you going to do with it? Eat it?”

“NO! Of course not! I’m not eating him!”

“Oh. Well, what are you going to do with it, then?”

“I’m…I’m going to….I’m going to…..SLEEP WITH IT!”

Not in my bed, she’s not.

gonna go fishing

I’ve decided to get the kiddo a fishing pole as an end of the school year present. Seems cruel to just let her play at it with her cute but woefully inadequate homemade job. If she’s willing to dig worms, I’m taking her. I’ve already consulted with Uncle Will regarding  kid friendly gear. Though I forgot to ask about what to do when and if she actually catches anything. Do fish bite? I guess that’s a silly question…assuming that, if they’ll bite a skinny wad of worm, surely they’ll go for a nice, pink, juicy finger. Gulp.

I see this as a healthy pursuit though. And what a time eater. In nice, fresh air. I like this. I’ve come to have creeping—though not doubtful—thoughts about this, however. Aside from having to actually somehow get this thing off  of the line, then I’ll have to find something to gut the thing with. Not a job for the kiddo, though I’m absolutely sure she’ll be a very enthusiastic audience. Blood and Guts! Decapitation! Yahoo! I suppose I’ll have to break down and get a grill, too—surely she’ll want to eat this thing, what with her hunting obsession and all. That thing is not stepping into my kitchen. So then I’ll have to learn how to actually start a charcoal fire. Thank heavens for google, right? I’ll try not to fret about bones. I’ll sit at dinner and be the proud mother I’ll be when she hooks one. Because I will be. But, like baiting hooks and digging for worms, she’ll be on her own when it comes to consuming the big catch. Sorry, babe.

woke up this morning

in a cold sweat. I dreamt that my birds…all of them…were escaping through the slots of their cage, led (inexplicably), by Stella. I couldn’t catch them. It sucked.

I know why I dreamt this. I brought Clinca the parakeet, and some of my finches (not Stella, that’s for sure), to the kiddo’s class today. I’ll come over later in the afternoon  to talk birds and help out with art class. I’m not quite sure what this dream means, other than I’m really, really neurotic about my babies. Except that I’m not. I like them because they make me relax, almost instantly, just watching them. Gonna be watching that Stella, though.

great story

Yes, it is. I’m not sure I could do this. I’m no Scarlett O’Hara. Don’t know nuthin ’bout birthin’ no babies. Nu-uh. Technically, I didn’t even birth the kiddo. Unassisted, anyway. Not that I’m complaining.

I can’t yet bring myself to touch the worm the kiddo offers me when she goes “fishing” with the homemade fishing pole she made, the one with the six inch stick and hot pink line. She’s on her own. I probably could deliver a baby  if it came to that. But I’d make a lousy farmer. I was just remarking upon that yesterday as I took a stroll around the pond with my friend Bonnie on Mother’s day. My animals would largely be pets. I’m an excellent pet owner.

So much life abounds in the pond. It always makes my day when I spot the beaver. I like watching it swim. My eyes are too bad to spot the turtle heads, but Bonnie finds them for me. Another pair of sharp little eyes found tiny snails along the edge. Soon the dragonflies will come along. It’s time to get the microscope out to find the other tiny things living in the water.

I love living near a pond.

2Cool

things. First, I just found out that there’s a retrospective of Francis Bacon’s work at the Met through August 16. Yes!

And, Gael has a new flick out, Rudo y Cursi. With Diego Luna (don’t you just love that name? Actually, I love both their names. But how cool would it be to have Luna (the Moon) as your last name? Reminds me of silver) . I love these two together. It’s about another love of mine, soccer. Sounds good.

find

I’m quite fond of Kitty Genius’s blog. See her Etsy store here.

getting married

I don’t get out to the movies much, unless they’re rated G for the kiddo. So I saw Rachel Getting Married at home on the couch last night, where I prefer to watch, anyway (a shout out to Fee. Miss watching flicks with you, though I don’t know how you ever put up with me, especially in a theatre, back in the day. I should not have been taken out anywhere, I believe. We’re lucky we didn’t get crowned a good one. ).  I never want to see Rachel…again. For reasons I won’t get into here. I have to say that my favorite part in the movie was when Kym snapped about the constant music in an important scene, and thankfully, the music stopped.  Because I felt exactly the same way, during the entire movie. I felt other things, too. It did make me cry.

But more than that, it got me to thinking upon one of my least favorite things, weddings. I’ll try not to be too negative. I think I give the wrong impression when I talk about my anti-marriage views. But the thing is, I do think marriage is a wonderful thing. For some. It is many things, in many ways; different ways, for all kinds of different reasons,  for every couple, and I wish that our culture kept that in mind, in an open and nonjudgemental way. Good luck with that, right?

I still dislike weddings, and attending them in particular. Though I have enjoyed one or two. I find, as in Rachel’s wedding, that the rite in general is often too much. Too over the top. Too much of a stage. Which often loses the reality, or trueness of a particular love story’s origins and intent, I believe. I just don’t believe love and commitment need a stage. That stage.  Just what could ever, possibly, live up to the elaborate fantasies I’ve seen created at these things? Though I do love pageantry, and feel our culture doesn’t have enough pageantry that celebrates every day life and other rites of passage. Maybe that’s why we go all out at weddings. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just missing the bridal gene. My parents eloped. So would I.

heh

So amused that Mine That Bird won the Derby. Though I hadn’t money on him.

The kiddo and I frequent two librarys. The one in the town in which she attends school, and the one where we live. After our weekly fried dumpling and lo mein takeout (she’s going to turn into a dumpling, she really is), the kiddo decided we should go to the library—”we haven’t been to this one in awhile”. She was right. And I finally found E.B. White’s One Man’s Meat (mighty fine read, my friend), and Unaccustomed Earth (thanks, Fee). The kiddo found a worm on the sidewalk.

“I want to take him home!”, she declared.

“You can, but I’m not touching it.”

“You know, I collect worms. At school. When it’s raining. And it IS raining!”.

“Great. He can live in the garden.”

But he doesn’t live in the garden. After thorough inspection, the kiddo declared him dead. Then she wanted to cut him up. Gah!  Now he’s drying out in a little French jelly glass. I’ve wondered once in awhile what it would be like to have a boy. I think I know now.