July 31, 2005

The Fable of the Treacherous Pineapple

by E

There once was a pineapple who wanted to rule the world, but there was a small orange who got in his way. So, the world held an election. The orange won, but the pineapple was treacherous and squished the small orange, then ruled the world with tyranny.

The moral of the story: Never trust a piece of fruit, no matter what the food pyramid says.

Original artwork soon to follow.

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July 29, 2005


I really like metal: platinum, gold, brushed nickel, stainless, antiqued bronze, copper patina.

Oh, metal as in music? Well, ummm, not really. I do; however, like to support a fellow blogger, if I can, in the endeavor of a dream. A fine review by Z here.

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July 28, 2005

First and Fourteen

Tomorrow my first born will be fourteen. Fourteen. I keep thinking of it in terms of how little time I have left with her, that day-to-day time that allows me to quietly watch her. I swear I can see her growing, like time-lapse photography. I see her cheeks rising like the tide; her body lengthening as the afternoon shadows; her mind wrapping itself around the world, selectively embracing and carefully rejecting theories and philosophies she finds reasonable or repugnant.

She has a wonderful balance of compassion and justice, logic and emotion, value and frugality, of faith and intellect. She was the first to fill my womb; nurse from my breast; the first one in whom I saw my own eyes and toes, heard my own laugh. In seconds breathed slowly over years, months, days, minutes, I am seeing them become her own distinct characteristics, changing from pieces of me and her father to the wholeness of her.

And to be a whole person is what I most desire for her. Happy Birthday, Baby. I love you more than I will ever be able to express.

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House Arrest

Sophie Kinsella has a new book out, The Undomestic Goddess. As her writing typically is, this one is hilarious and almost complete materialistic, fictional fluff, but has a nicely palatable message of moderation tucked into the interior. And who couldn't use a bit of laughter at the expense of vicarious screw-ups? Yeah, that would be me raising my hand....

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Said by K

While brushing her teeth and after some frustration with her sisters: "I'm just a small person in a huge world."

During dinner at a Chinese restaurant:

K: "Mom, look up."
I do so and see a very large, ornate stained glass. "That's very pretty, isn't it, K?"
K: "Impressive."

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July 21, 2005

Feliz Cumpleanos

It's your birthday, so have a happy day :D

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July 20, 2005

Joie de vivre

Several things to come from the French that I greatly appreciate:

1. Kissing
2. Fashion
3. Amélie
4. Crème Brulée (O.K. so technically, this isn't just the French, but stop being so particular).

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Right Here, Right Now

Can I just say that going two days without AC in 102 degree heat, making the house a refreshing 91, has made me so appreciate living in this century?

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July 18, 2005

Weird Science

Ummmm, no.

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Opera Length, please.

I see that Shopgirl, the novella by Steve Martin, has been made into a film. I already gave my personal thoughts on both of the recently published books by Steve. I am interested in seeing the movie because I believe Claire Danes to be quite talented, and the book actually seemed more like a screenplay.

I can't help but wonder how much of the neurosis in his novels in autobiographical.

(P.S. The music from the soundtrack sounds decent, too).

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Make Mine Dark

It has before been confessed here that A's first love is Roald Dahl. Being the second of four girls has either predetermined her to a perpetual feeling of inequality, or we have truly been remiss as parents. Or perhaps there is another factor, one that just finds A drawn to the humor that typically repulses other girls (and most parents who have turned to pirates) her age.

Margaret Talbot has a very poignant and humorous piece on Mr. Dahl in The New Yorker this week. I was sitting in an airport while I reading it, and picked-up my cell to call A at home to tell her about the article, and read a few bits to her. I promised her full perusal upon my return (she is soaking in my tub and reading it right now; like mother...). I am sure it is no coincidence that The New Yorker ran it the week the film, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory starring Johnny Depp, premiered.

After grabbing my girls from their descent down the mountain after a week of camp, and allowing for a quick change of clothes, we went to the earliest matinee on Friday. I wasn't sure if I was watching much more than Johnny's Jacko impersonation. He was perfectly creepy, glove(s), pale skin, issues with a controlling father and all. Only this Jacko made me laugh, occasionally, more than I cringed. My girls aren't aware of the existence of Michael Jackson, and I'm not sure they have a reason to be, or that I want to introduce them. They enjoyed it other than the added subplot casting a bit of light onto Wonka's obsession with candy and idiosyncrasies. Johnny's Charlie also completely coalesced with Burton's typical noire style

Freddie Highmore (Charlie) is absolutely incredible. He could do a film with no words and communicate more than a Tolstoy novel. Freddie is no McCaulay Culkin. That is, he hasn't landed in film just because he has big, blue eyes and bee-stung lips. Word is that Mr. Depp was so taken with his depth as a young actor, that he specifically requested young Freddie for the Chocolate Factory project. He is not disappointing and neither is the film.

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July 16, 2005

Who is the Half-Blood Prince?

I don't know, but I can guarantee that by sunrise tomorrow, I will.

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July 15, 2005

She Knows Herself

A few nights ago, K, licking ice cream from the corner of her mouth, says, "I'm hilarious." This drew gales of laughter from the rest of us. She indulged in a small chuckle, and then said, "See?!"

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Home again

Finally, all of my daughters in one place. E and A came down from the mountain today, literally, and are home for the rest of the summer. I think.

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July 12, 2005

Brilliant White

E.B White. He is most famous for making an arachnid appealing to perpetual generations of children. And mothers. I personally remember The Elements of Style best. Well, at least I think I do. Everytime I find a grammatical error, or feel a piece of writing lacking in layered, delectable diction, I hang my head a bit, feeling the shame of forgetfulness, or lack of being the meticulous writer.

E. B. White, like his literary antithesis, Roald Dahl, had the ability to speak the language of the knee-high that many lost among the crib sheets, had weaned away with the bottle, and some had drowned in the sweaty, hormoned-halls of junior high.

He gently spread the emotions of a young mind before the reader who then couldn't help but find themselves reaching out, pulling the soothing softness of it up to rub against their cheek, comforted by either finally having someone able to articulate, or in the discovery of things, of thoughts long forgotten.

Thanks to the Llamas for the reminder.

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July 10, 2005

World Wide Trip

Can I just say that no matter the surrounding, I just love hearing a British accent?

Andy, Mrs. WWR, and The Wee Fiona were traveling through the area and we planned for a little lunch that would allow Wee Fee some mobility.

Even in a McDonald's Playplace, Mrs. WWR's accent drowned out the other parents bargaining away their lives for a side of peace with their Chicken Selects®. Andy kept an eye on Little Miss Fiona and occasionally flavored the conversation with his wit.

I think I may have even convinced them to name their unborn child Rae.

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July 07, 2005


Several things:

1. Allah, the one on the extremist side of the contiuum of the Islamic faith, is not the same God of the Jewish and Christian faiths. Those of you who are decidely and sarcastically anti-Christian can throw "The Crusades" at me all you want, but there has yet to beorganized terrorism in the direct name of Christ since man has advanced educationally, culturally, and technologically.

2. To the citizens of England, my sincere prayers and condolence.

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July 05, 2005

Laugh In

Oh. My. Natalie makes me laugh. So. Hard.

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I wonder how this is going to affect the relationship between the other non-denominational, ungoverned bodies Churches of Christ/Christian Churches?

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I drove E and C up The Mountain this afternoon to deliver them to a week of camp. While navigating a straight stretch guarded by Aspens and speckled with the sunlight that danced through their "quaking leaves," I mentioned how much I enjoyed these trees. E said they reminded her of Proginoskes: "Because of all the eyes, mom." Of course, I thought.

I smiled and tucked away the satisfaction of knowing exactly to whom my daughter was referring.

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July 04, 2005

'Satiable Curtiosity

I keep six serving-men
(They taught me all I knew);
Their names are What and Why and When
and How and Where and Who.
I send them over land and sea,
I send them east and west;
But after they have worked for me,
I give them all a rest.

I let them rest from nine till five,
For I am busy then,
As well as for breakfast, lunch, and tea,
For they are hungry men:
But different folks have different views;
I know a person small-
She keeps ten million serving-men,
Who get no rest at all!
She sends 'em abroad on her own affairs,
From the second she opens her eyes-
One million Hows, two million Wheres,
And Seven Million Whys!

I have been reading nightly to K from a collection of classic stories by the author of this poem. Without googling, can anyone tell me who penned this?

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Oh Say Can You See

We climbed up on the roof and watched two different fireworks shows tonight. After oohs and aahs, as the grand finale went off on the second one, A and I sang The Star-Spangled Banner. It was lovely.

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July 03, 2005


E went to leadership camp to receive training to be a counselor at our church camp. Typically, a teen must complete two years before they are given the opportunity to counsel campers. This year a shortage of high school-aged trained teen leaders opened up the opportunity for first year trainees to help.

E was one of the first year girls selected to counsel the remaining two weeks of camp. She is a wonderful girl- mature both cognitively and spiritually. She is kind, considerate, capable. She was humbled and excited to be asked. Upon returning home from her own week of camp, she immediately began to gather resources to prepare for leading her potential young charges in devotional thought.

The first three weeks of her summer were spent helping at UCYC. She helped cook, serve, and clean, making friends and a few dollars in the process. Because of travel schedules overlapping, I saw her for about two days, and then she was off again. When she walked through the door on Friday afternoon, she was taller, tanner, and the honey-highlights in her hair gleamed in the sun. That evening, we stood back-to-back, heel-to-heel at exactly the same height: 5'8½.

E is in that beautiful transition from girl to young woman. Someone once said of her, "She doesn't walk anywhere, she floats." That was when she was a mere 10 years old. She does so even more gloriously now.

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July 01, 2005

What She Says

Heh. I love reading Joan.

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