Thursday, October 30, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Purple States
I was listening to NPR yesterday (again) and Ethan, who I assumed wasn't listening, suddenly asks:
How do they change red states to blue states?
So I embarked upon a simplified explanation of politics and the presidential campaign.
Who are you going to vote for mom?
I don't know yet. Here's a picture of Barak Obama, and one of John McCain. Who do you think you should be president?
Bakobama.
Why?
Because he has a big smile. With a smile like that, he'd probably be a good president. Isn't that a good idea?
It's probably as good a reason as many people have for voting for a candidate.
I think this should be a red state because my favorite color is red.
Again, as good a reason as any.
How do they change red states to blue states?
So I embarked upon a simplified explanation of politics and the presidential campaign.
Who are you going to vote for mom?
I don't know yet. Here's a picture of Barak Obama, and one of John McCain. Who do you think you should be president?
Bakobama.
Why?
Because he has a big smile. With a smile like that, he'd probably be a good president. Isn't that a good idea?
It's probably as good a reason as many people have for voting for a candidate.
I think this should be a red state because my favorite color is red.
Again, as good a reason as any.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Forest Fire
These days driving home can be a frustratingly beautiful experience. You see, everyone around here drives up to FairyLand to see the leaves this time of year. This means that when I am in a hurry to get home, there are a gazillion cars driving ridiculously slow admiring the amazing fireworks display of leaves. It is at these moments that I take a deep breath, remind myself that not everyone gets to live in the beauty of FairyLand, and take a good look around me and try and enjoy the ride a bit more myself.
Today after Church, I decided to finally make it up to the Blue Ridge Parkway. We've lived here nearly two years and had yet to drive on the famous parkway. This little highway litterally straddles the mountaintops. By way of several bridges and tunnels, it affords the most stunning views of these mountains--even more stunning in full fall color. I wish I was a decent photographer. Instead I'll have to count on my writing skills to describe the overwhelming beauty of fall in Fairyland. I have taken a few pics over the past couple of weeks I'll attempt to post (but you know how good I am at that).
As we left the parkway and descended into the full splendor of what we'd been observing topside, I realized that I actually prefer the beauty from below. It's a bit like life I figure. Sure it's lovely to observe the color rolling in waves across the top of the mountains--it's very neat and almost orderly in it's beauty. But it's nothing like driving under those same trees. There is nothing orderly about that. You go from shadow to sun and back like a strobe light. One moment shrouded in dark greenery, the next awestruck by a bright red tree, then a yellow limb sprawled overhead. Then, the breeze picks up and I am showered with the colorful fallout. I like the nitty-gritty in life. I like it a little bit messy, a little bit earthy. But not too much. I don't want to roll around in the detritus or anything.
It reminds me of my mission. Italy is a bit like that. Florence is clean and well kept and beautiful. Rome is a bit more wild and messy. Naples is like burrowing under the leaf litter--you can find some really interesting stuff down there, but do you really want to spend much time crawling around in it? Let's go to Rome--or at least Pisgah Forest.
Today after Church, I decided to finally make it up to the Blue Ridge Parkway. We've lived here nearly two years and had yet to drive on the famous parkway. This little highway litterally straddles the mountaintops. By way of several bridges and tunnels, it affords the most stunning views of these mountains--even more stunning in full fall color. I wish I was a decent photographer. Instead I'll have to count on my writing skills to describe the overwhelming beauty of fall in Fairyland. I have taken a few pics over the past couple of weeks I'll attempt to post (but you know how good I am at that).
As we left the parkway and descended into the full splendor of what we'd been observing topside, I realized that I actually prefer the beauty from below. It's a bit like life I figure. Sure it's lovely to observe the color rolling in waves across the top of the mountains--it's very neat and almost orderly in it's beauty. But it's nothing like driving under those same trees. There is nothing orderly about that. You go from shadow to sun and back like a strobe light. One moment shrouded in dark greenery, the next awestruck by a bright red tree, then a yellow limb sprawled overhead. Then, the breeze picks up and I am showered with the colorful fallout. I like the nitty-gritty in life. I like it a little bit messy, a little bit earthy. But not too much. I don't want to roll around in the detritus or anything.
It reminds me of my mission. Italy is a bit like that. Florence is clean and well kept and beautiful. Rome is a bit more wild and messy. Naples is like burrowing under the leaf litter--you can find some really interesting stuff down there, but do you really want to spend much time crawling around in it? Let's go to Rome--or at least Pisgah Forest.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Fungus Amongus Again
No, this isn't a follow up to Elliot's diaper rash, though it looks like it may be making a return appearance. This post is dedicated to the freaky fungi flowering profusely in Fairyland. I'd always wondered why mushrooms are sometimes called toadstools, or why little gnomes are pictured sitting near or on a mushroom.
Since moving to FairyLand, I've discovered the answer. Mushrooms reach enormous proportions around here and come in an amazing array of colors, shapes and sizes.
It got so bad that as I'd drive to pick Ethan up at the bus stop, I nearly ran off the road for looking at 'shrooms.
So finally, I brought my camera with me and for a week my boys and I stopped wherever we could to photograph mushrooms in all their Fairyland varieties.
This one popped right up out of the driveway. I thought I ought to photograph it before it got squished.
I've posted a mere fraction of the photos I've collected. Let me know if you want to see more and I'll send you an album or something.
I've gone a little mushy over mushrooms . . . but you gotta admit, they're pretty cool little critters.
Since moving to FairyLand, I've discovered the answer. Mushrooms reach enormous proportions around here and come in an amazing array of colors, shapes and sizes.
It got so bad that as I'd drive to pick Ethan up at the bus stop, I nearly ran off the road for looking at 'shrooms.
So finally, I brought my camera with me and for a week my boys and I stopped wherever we could to photograph mushrooms in all their Fairyland varieties.
This one popped right up out of the driveway. I thought I ought to photograph it before it got squished.
I've posted a mere fraction of the photos I've collected. Let me know if you want to see more and I'll send you an album or something.
I've gone a little mushy over mushrooms . . . but you gotta admit, they're pretty cool little critters.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Switcheroo
I think my child has been abducted and replaced by an alien lifeform--but only occasionally. Like when he goes to school and behaves well enough to earn the Student of the Month title. Then, somehow, they zap back my real kid on the bus ride home.
Same thing for his Sunday school class--but this time I was around to witness the impostor at work. My child, you see, refuses to sit nicely and sing during singing/sharing time at church. Instead he insists on "helping" me lead the music. His assistance generally amounts to playing with my stash of props and such, and messing with the CD player, followed by crawling under my little table or running circles around me all while I'm attempting to teach the rest of the children a song or two.
So imagine my surprise when today during the primary singing program he stood up at the podium and with all his might sang out nearly all the words to every song--nice and loud too. I wish the other kids knew the songs like that and sang out so well.
Whomever it is who is abducting him really messed up today. Perhaps they didn't think I'd catch on, but I know my child, and I am convinced that was not him.
Same thing for his Sunday school class--but this time I was around to witness the impostor at work. My child, you see, refuses to sit nicely and sing during singing/sharing time at church. Instead he insists on "helping" me lead the music. His assistance generally amounts to playing with my stash of props and such, and messing with the CD player, followed by crawling under my little table or running circles around me all while I'm attempting to teach the rest of the children a song or two.
So imagine my surprise when today during the primary singing program he stood up at the podium and with all his might sang out nearly all the words to every song--nice and loud too. I wish the other kids knew the songs like that and sang out so well.
Whomever it is who is abducting him really messed up today. Perhaps they didn't think I'd catch on, but I know my child, and I am convinced that was not him.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Hairy Situation
I've been listening to way too much NPR lately. The liberal bias has gone to my head (I think I'm voting for Obama--don't tell my family or they might institutionalize me, but that's another post entirely). But, there was a snippet the other day that really disturbed me.
The economic crisis? The election? No, this little piece was all about children, oh and waxing. Apparently there are salons out there that recommend and perform cosmetic hair removal on young girls. And mothers who take them up, nay insist upon it.
One terribly disturbing point made by a salon owner was that apparently virgin hair waxing begun young enough, say at the age of 6, often requires just 2 or 3 waxing session before hair removal is permanent. This, she pointed out, is such a great idea because it saves thousands of dollars in waxing fees over a woman's lifetime.
This brings me to two questions:
1) What is so wrong with body hair?
2) Have you considered that not every girl will choose to remove her body hair for the rest of her mortal existence. (maybe in 10 years hairy legs and pits will again be in fashion--think of the women you know who plucked out their eyebrows in response to a trend and to this day have to paint on scary clown brows).
It reminds me of the time I learned of the Brazilian wax. (Overshare warning--skip the rest of this paragraph if you're disturbed by graphic descriptions of OB-GYN visits). I was in my gyno's office, stirruped up, undergoing an unusual procedure. You see, I have the bad luck of being born with moles in unfortunate places. After a scarring experience with mole removal from my nipple region as a teenager, I opted to have my OB take care of the removal of the two scary moles residing in my nether regions. As she shaved the hair necessary for the procedure, she mentioned the new trend she'd begun observing in femail hair removal--the Brazilian wax. Which, as most of you I'm sure know, involves complete hair removal down south. This disturbs me.
My husband's family has serious issues with body hair. I recall his little sister one time mentioning that she'd had her forearms waxed. Her forearms? I also unfortunately overheard that my mother-in-law had a bikini wax. A bikini wax? For a mormon woman in her mid fifties? That's just all shades of wrong.
I remember my teenage years when I had low self-esteem and wanted to fit in and began shaving my legs. Prior to this I had fine blond hair on my legs. Funny thing happened once I started shaving it. It began to grow back in dark and coarse. So I stopped and eventually it mostly softened back up. Though it's still a bit patchy. I like to think of it as my own little forest.
I must admit, since then I still do occasionally shave. I like to think of it as my Christmas and/or Easter ritual. But even that has become fairly inconsistent (especially since moving to Fairyland--you see, fairies aren't concerned with body hair). And, my body hair is relatively sparse. Though I don't see that had I been given thick, dark hair, that I'd be rushing off to the salon for a bikini wax.
I dunno, I suppose I understand the desire to get rid of unsightly facial hair, and even the non-obsessive level of leg and pit shaving if that makes one feel better. But it seems really excessive and somewhat sadomasochistic to regularly strip in front of strangers and pay them to pour hot wax on your naughty bits. But that's just me.
I'm glad I have boys.
The economic crisis? The election? No, this little piece was all about children, oh and waxing. Apparently there are salons out there that recommend and perform cosmetic hair removal on young girls. And mothers who take them up, nay insist upon it.
One terribly disturbing point made by a salon owner was that apparently virgin hair waxing begun young enough, say at the age of 6, often requires just 2 or 3 waxing session before hair removal is permanent. This, she pointed out, is such a great idea because it saves thousands of dollars in waxing fees over a woman's lifetime.
This brings me to two questions:
1) What is so wrong with body hair?
2) Have you considered that not every girl will choose to remove her body hair for the rest of her mortal existence. (maybe in 10 years hairy legs and pits will again be in fashion--think of the women you know who plucked out their eyebrows in response to a trend and to this day have to paint on scary clown brows).
It reminds me of the time I learned of the Brazilian wax. (Overshare warning--skip the rest of this paragraph if you're disturbed by graphic descriptions of OB-GYN visits). I was in my gyno's office, stirruped up, undergoing an unusual procedure. You see, I have the bad luck of being born with moles in unfortunate places. After a scarring experience with mole removal from my nipple region as a teenager, I opted to have my OB take care of the removal of the two scary moles residing in my nether regions. As she shaved the hair necessary for the procedure, she mentioned the new trend she'd begun observing in femail hair removal--the Brazilian wax. Which, as most of you I'm sure know, involves complete hair removal down south. This disturbs me.
My husband's family has serious issues with body hair. I recall his little sister one time mentioning that she'd had her forearms waxed. Her forearms? I also unfortunately overheard that my mother-in-law had a bikini wax. A bikini wax? For a mormon woman in her mid fifties? That's just all shades of wrong.
I remember my teenage years when I had low self-esteem and wanted to fit in and began shaving my legs. Prior to this I had fine blond hair on my legs. Funny thing happened once I started shaving it. It began to grow back in dark and coarse. So I stopped and eventually it mostly softened back up. Though it's still a bit patchy. I like to think of it as my own little forest.
I must admit, since then I still do occasionally shave. I like to think of it as my Christmas and/or Easter ritual. But even that has become fairly inconsistent (especially since moving to Fairyland--you see, fairies aren't concerned with body hair). And, my body hair is relatively sparse. Though I don't see that had I been given thick, dark hair, that I'd be rushing off to the salon for a bikini wax.
I dunno, I suppose I understand the desire to get rid of unsightly facial hair, and even the non-obsessive level of leg and pit shaving if that makes one feel better. But it seems really excessive and somewhat sadomasochistic to regularly strip in front of strangers and pay them to pour hot wax on your naughty bits. But that's just me.
I'm glad I have boys.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Late Bus
Ethan rides the late bus. It usually arrives at our stop between 4:05 and 4:15. One day I was running late and arrived at 4:10. The bus of course had arrived at 4:07 that day. Fortunately the driver waited a couple of minutes. I've been told that if I am not there to meet the bus, they will take him back to school.
Today I arrived promptly at the stop at 4:00 pm. I waited. And waited. Worried. And waited. At 4:30 I was going a little crazy and had begun to seriously worry. So, I started down the road along the bus route, assuming I would probably meet the bus at some point--likely in the midst of some gory accident scene of course. By 4:45, no bus. So now, 15 minutes from home and 15 minutes from school I had to make a decision. No cell phone since I don't get reception at home or the bus stop, so I decided to head for the school. I never encountered the bus, arrived at school at 5:00 pm. The Assistant Principal informed me that his bus had been involved in a fender bender (I knew it!!!). Everyone was fine, but the bus was delayed and is now completing its route. He radioed the driver to discover that they were approaching our bus stop--now 30 minutes from the school. So, she kept him on the bus, completed the route and returned to school where I met him about 5:45 pm.
Elliot must have been worried. He gave Ethan a big hug and held his hand as we walked to the car. We were all relieved. Ethan told me every detail of the accident. The police car and the other vehicle involved. Tomorrow he said, he's going to play "bus accident" when he gets home from school
I told Ethan we could go out to dinner and he could pick the restaurant. He chose the Twin Dragons Grand Chinese Buffet because it's the only place in town where he can get mussels--except maybe the Food Lion.
Today I arrived promptly at the stop at 4:00 pm. I waited. And waited. Worried. And waited. At 4:30 I was going a little crazy and had begun to seriously worry. So, I started down the road along the bus route, assuming I would probably meet the bus at some point--likely in the midst of some gory accident scene of course. By 4:45, no bus. So now, 15 minutes from home and 15 minutes from school I had to make a decision. No cell phone since I don't get reception at home or the bus stop, so I decided to head for the school. I never encountered the bus, arrived at school at 5:00 pm. The Assistant Principal informed me that his bus had been involved in a fender bender (I knew it!!!). Everyone was fine, but the bus was delayed and is now completing its route. He radioed the driver to discover that they were approaching our bus stop--now 30 minutes from the school. So, she kept him on the bus, completed the route and returned to school where I met him about 5:45 pm.
Elliot must have been worried. He gave Ethan a big hug and held his hand as we walked to the car. We were all relieved. Ethan told me every detail of the accident. The police car and the other vehicle involved. Tomorrow he said, he's going to play "bus accident" when he gets home from school
I told Ethan we could go out to dinner and he could pick the restaurant. He chose the Twin Dragons Grand Chinese Buffet because it's the only place in town where he can get mussels--except maybe the Food Lion.
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