small packages

Calvin

Tall, dark, and handsome.

Happy Fathers Day!!!

I'm sorry I'm not home today, Peter. I just want you to know how much you are loved and appreciated.


(In case Colby forgot....look under our bed)

The Cottage

Pure eye-candy.

Those tadpoles have made a home in Colby's kindergarten classroom. Thanks Mom and Dad.

Goodies!!

I received a package for Stefani this week! Packed full with some Japanese bits from her travels (I am writhing with jealousy as I type this) and some lovely southern pieces including canned pepper that were quickly devoured by Peter.

Thanks Stefani for your generosity.

Taxidermy and Cheese

One stop shopping.

It's a boy!!

And a gorgeous one at that! My handsome baby nephew was born earlier this week.

 Congrats to Mommy and Daddy and proud big sis Audrey!

Where have you been?

Busy, busy, busy...

I can't seem to find time. It is sparse and sneaky. There is planning involved and I can't seem to find the time to plan for it.

The days are slipping by quickly. Spring is fickle and the warm weather is scattered. Today it is cold, gray and rainy. So much so that my kids, who would sleep outdoors if they were allowed, wont play in the yard. I've quarantined them upstairs while I catch up a bit.



Mother's Day was pleasant and beautiful. Breakfast in bed (PB and J on toast cut diagonally with strawberries and sugar) A Nasturtium from Colby. Grown from a seed in the window of his kindergarten classroom. Homemade cards. Peace, with very little quiet.

Also, Blue Yonder chose a winner for this contest. She has so many great entries and ultimately, decided on two. One of which was Peter's cuffs. The other was this gorgeous bed. We were in good company. These ideas and talents were truly overwhelming. Peter's pride was a bit reserved, considering the circumstances. We' miss Ripper constantly. This weekend was Victoria Day. Rip was always terrified of the fireworks. These holidays were one of the only occasions that we allowed him to jump up on the couch with us and push his nose under the cushions. Thank God for these memories. They make me smile, despite the sadness.

Thanks to Stefani for taking notice of such a special little craft.

Really!!??

I mean, really!!?

I have a subscription to Rolling Stone magazine which I love. Every other week I get to search the pages for my old favorites, interviews with up and coming artists, Pro-Obama (Anti-Bush) articles, etc.
I look forward to the surprise of the cover shot. Sometimes it's a rock legend like Jerry Garcia, Mick Jaggar, Hendrix, or a cult hero like Hunter S Thompson. And I have even accepted the fact that the newer artists are gracing the cover more often. But this?

These girls are not stars. They don't act or sing or add anything of any importance to my life. So why do I have to look at their panties? I'm sure that the Letters to the Editor section will be full of jaded lovers of music.  Just as it was a few months ago when this guy was on the cover. I thought I subscribed to Rolling Stone, not Tiger Beat.

Thanks for listening.

Free Range Kids

There was an article on MSN last week about a mother, and journalist, who allowed her 9 year old son ride the New York City subway home from the mall. Here is her blog. Please take the time to read the post and let me know what you think.

I am a realistic person. I need to take baby steps to help my children find their independence.

Last week Peter spent an hour with Colby while he took a great big step into being a self-reliant boy. I have never seen him so proud of himself. It was glorious to witness. Those moments pass so quickly.

 

I knew that this was a "Dad job" only because I have neither the patience or physical ability to run beside a bike for almost an hour straight.

Why have I JUST heard of this??

wwoof.ca

Yes, please!

I did a bit of lurking and snooping and am totally taken by this.

"Willing Workers On Organic Farms and World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms. Vacationing in Canada and volunteering on Organic Farms is a great way to broaden your education and practical experience. It also serves as a great way to inexpensively travel. Over 600 farm hosts - a great variety of choices - will introduce you to the many interesting aspects of Canadian farms and gardens. WWOOFing is a cultural exchange and a helping exchange."    

I am being pulled to this. I have literally added this to my ever expanding to-do list.

I've been daydreaming about working at one of the few farms that will house families. Filthy, golden children lending a hand and learning about organic farming.

(this is my first attempt at posting through BLOG IT on facebook. I'm looking for a add photo option, or any option for that matter. It's looking very basic...."very" would be in italics if I had that option)

Come in...I'm open

I wonder how these little hands find such amazing things. The kind of things that I pass by without a second look. The kind of things that used to fascinate me. But that was when I was five. The curiosity of a five year old is something I long for. A million questions and an imaginative answer for each and every one. The wonderment of the world and infinite creativity.

I have a vivid childhood memory (I think I was around seven) of crawling on my hands and knees and digging through the rocks that covered our driveway. I had a empty peanut butter jar to my left. I would pick up every stone that caught my eye and hold it up for further investigation. If it was beautiful, it would go in the jar. I don't know how long I actually spent out there. Time isn't important to a child. But I filled the jar. I carried the load to the hose and trudged inside for some dish soap and a scrub brush. I cleaned the dirt off each and every rock. I admired them while they were wet. They sparkled so much more in the water.

Being the entrepreneur that I was, I decide it was a wise ides to share these marvelous specimens, and maybe score a little profit! Even at that young age, the reality of money and it's importance had sunk in to a degree. What a shame. I lugged a small table to the end of my drive and expertly crafted a sign.

"ROCKS 5 cents"

I place each rock on the table with care, knowing how special every one was. And I sat.

Again, I have no idea how long I sat for, watching cars pass by, hoping one would stop, but it felt like an eternity. And I was shocked. How can they not want these? The cars passed, but not often, as we lived on a country road. I remember being honestly surprised and confused by the fact that no one was even stopping to look at these treasures. What a sad loss for them.

At some point during the afternoon  a car passed, but slower than the rest. It stopped just passed our house and began to reverse halting right in front of my makeshift stand. Now looking back at this from a parents point of view, I am terrified. Who knows who could have been in that car and how quickly I could have been snatched away. But a child doesn't (and shouldn't) live with such fears. My heart started beating quickly, with excitement. I will always remember the face of the lovely woman who stepped out of the car. She was smiling. She had red hair and was probably about the same age I am now. She approached my table and bent over to examine my wares.

"They're all so nice!" she said. (Or something to that effect)

I remember her picking up a particular rock and holding it up to the sun for a closer look, just as I had when I found it in the driveway.

She looked down at me and said "I'll take this one."

The nickel in my hand made it's way to my pocket  as the  woman drove away.  I packed up shop after that, satisfied with my success. I'll never know what that woman did with that rock. I can only assume that she had children who shared my passion for such beautiful things. I imagine the rock rattled around in her coat pocket along with her change and car keys. Maybe she gave it to her child, or threw it in her garden, or perhaps she tossed it out her car window as soon as she drove away (seems a bit harsh) But I'll never know.

As adults, we let these moments pass by far too often. The world is a beautiful place that we take for granted more than not. Our children eyes are naive and unpretentious. They appreciate the little things that no longer amuse us.  I learn so much from them.

My children are my teachers. 

"when he was six he believed that the moon overhead followed him

by nine he had deciphered the illusion, trading magic for fact

no tradebacks...

so this is what it's like to be an adult

if he only knew now what he knew then...

I'm open"

-Pearl Jam

Classic Muppet Show

You're welcome.