The Belonging

Every once in a while I find an old scrubby picture book in a free box and save it for collaging.  I never really get to the collaging, but nevertheless, I feel like I have the potential to be a real collage artist one of these days. Cleaning off my home desk this morning, I decided to become the collage artist I was meant to be.  I started with a Little Golden Book called Mister Dog.

I opened to the first page, scissors in hand. The book begins with an illustration of a dog in a bed, slippers neatly placed on his rug. The bed is a person bed, but he has a bone tucked under his pillow.  I read the first lines, "Once upon a time there was a funny dog named Crispin's Crispian.  He was named Crispin's Crispian because-----"

I turned to page two, "----he belonged to himself.   In the mornings, he woke himself up and he went to the icebox and gave himself some bread and milk. He was a funny old dog.  He liked strawberries."

"Why on earth is this dog named Crispin's Crispian?" I wondered.  I also thought it pleasant that Crispin's Crispian belonged to no creature save himself.   I read the rest and came upon additional surprises along the way which I won't spoil for you. Mister Dog is by Margaret Wise Brown, whose books always seem great and a little funky to me.  After reading Mister Dog, her last published book,  I spent an hour on the internets reading about Margaret Wise Brown and her fascinating life.

I blame Margaret Wise Brown and Mister Dog for keeping me from  working on report cards today.
The days of vacation are ticking by and as usual I'm wishing a few extra could be tossed my way. On a day like today, I am adamant that more time is my right, that  I need more time than most people do---time to not-collage and to read about Margaret Wise Brown and to devote myself to blogging about my forays into folderol.  Eventually, I'll snap out of it and get back into schoolish things.  We all get the same amount of time and it's probably enough.  Like Mister Dog, time belongs only to herself.

The Educated

We drove back from Georgia yesterday.  It was a long drive, but I performed an expert reading of Educated by Tara Westover, which proved to be diverting for all passengers.  When we got home, I needed to finish the book and Husbandman didn't want me to read aloud any more, so I read silently on the couch until I finished my new favorite book.

Tara Westover had tough times with her family.  Her dad was especially bonkers.  Don't even get me started on her brother. I appreciated her comparisons of her memories of events with her siblings' memories of the same events.   It's odd that people remember their shared pasts so differently.  We should probably just videotape every minute of every day so that our memories can be corroborated and we can get to the basic truth of what's going on.

Our trip to The Deep South had mostly ups.  #1 is busy with gigs and fits right into musical New Orleans.  20 Something likes her job and is having a fun time with her friends and her beau, Kyle Kyle Crocodile (KKC).

My dad's house was quiet and calm.  My mom's death will change things for everyone in the house, but only time will tell what these changes will be.  My dad has macular degeneration, and can not see well. I'm nervous about his future, but I'm going to trust that things will work themselves out.  I wish I could write a reverse memoir, that would reveal the future turning out fine.  In my reverse memoir, my dad can make his own peanut butter sandwiches and apply his own eye drops.  He joins a monthly book club and competes in a 5K every once in awhile. He visits us in Bloomington regularly and we eat carrot cake with our coffee in the morning.

Also,  the introduction of my reverse memoir will focus on the immediate, miraculous replacement of our broken furnace.  In the memoir,  it doesn't take four days to replace the broken furnace.  We are warm and comfortable in our home, neither wearing winter coats, nor clutching cups of hot tea in our frozen hands.

The Peace

Before she died, my mom wrote letters to her six living children.  She shared memories of us that made her happy.  She also asked us to get along and to help each other out.  She told me she needed me to be a peacemaker in the family.  I was happy to get the letter of course, but disgruntled about the peacemaking thing.   I'm not that great at peacemaking to tell you the truth.  My strategy for dealing with discord is IGNORE AND AVOID, which has worked great for me so far.

Mom's death has been a big fat drag in a million ways and come to find out I've now got to try to develop some peacemaking skills.  I'll give it a go, but Mom, let's have low expectations.

The Bayou

 Spent some time out on the bayou recently when I saw this heron.  I wanted it to be a Tricolored heron, but I think it's a Little Blue Heron instead.

So you can want something, but you can't always get it.  That's the way of the world my friends.

Focus on the good times and on what you do have.

You can't make one bird be another bird.  Just like you can't make people change.  And probably you shouldn't even want to, when it comes right down to it.

The Eve

New Orleans is a good place to be.  #1 Son has played several gigs over the past two days and Husbandman, 20 Something and I have followed him around to Side Bar and Nola Cantina and Balcony Music Club.

The only snag in the trip so far is #1's disdain for holiday tunes, which he is forced to play for a few weeks each year. Between sets yesterday, he told us, "I'd rather everyone in the world have a bad Christmas than me have to play one more Christmas song."

 I've done nothing Christmas-y at all this year, so I was kind of excited to hear some Christmas songs.  I asked #1, "What about O Christmas Tree? Will you play that?"

"We will not," he answered, somewhat tersely.  

The good news is I got to hear a few holiday songs last night when #1 played with the Jazmarae band. I loved their jazzy Norwegian version of Silent Night.  They also played Last Christmas, a Wham classic. We received a true lagniappe when a trumpeter named Gene joined them on a rousing version of Santa Claus is Smoking the Weed.

 Today we will take a walk and see a movie.  20 Something and I will lead some caroling in the Marigny around midnight. I need to fit in a few more songs before this festive season moves on down the road. Requests encouraged.

The Time

I wish some magic would happen and I could teach a bunch of kids in Thirdland more about how time works.

We're having some troubles. I created a cool virtual field trip to the zoo that involved learning about animals and solving elapsed time problems like, "You're at the meerkat exhibit from 10:05 to 10:25.  How long did you spend there?  Also, how do meerkats communicate?"

I thought it would be a fun practice for them, but many kids need way more practice with time in order to do the activity.  One kid made a time line and counted up one minute at a time.  He did not get the correct answer despite his work.  Another kid wrote down, "1379."  I mean... what the heck?  I was kind of glum about this yesterday, but today I'm back in the game.  We can do this? I don't mean to be a kvetcher, but I just don't feel time's on my side right now.