Alice's Adventures Underground

I Wanna Tell Ya All a Story

Posted on 5/18/2010 09:04:00 AM - by NG

When I was little, my mother was a member of the PTA - that's the Parent Teachers Association - for the uninitiated out there. I don't remember one single thing she did in the PTA except for help throw an ice cream social each year, which to us kids, was the premiere event of the year - imagine the Oscars or the Grammys and multiply times ten because ICE CREAM!

(Ice cream makes everything better when you're eight years old and live in a hot climate.)

We'd wander over to the school basketball courts at the start of the day and they'd hand out those tiny little elementary school cups of ice cream frozen so hard you could use it to break out of a glass jail cell along with wooden spoons. And maybe you might get some chocolate sauce, I don't know. I'm pretty sure they had games and maybe even once a cotton candy machine. As Joe Biden might say, it was a big f-in deal. So much of a big deal, in fact, that my eight year old self was pretty sure that was the only thing the PTA did.

During the very first week of The Dormouse's public school adventures last year, she came home with a form asking all parents to join the PTA. It cost $5. I filled out the form without really thinking about it and wrote a check for the dues - it's just what you do. Besides, any class that got one hundred percent participation for PTA membership would get a pizza party. I couldn't be the one holding her back from that great prize. A couple of weeks later, my PTA membership card came in the mail and The KingofHearts laughed and laughed.

I was slightly perplexed as to why this was so funny.

"You're a card-carrying member of the PTA," he mocked, "it doesn't get more Suburban Housewife than that. This may even be more funny than that time I caught you barefoot and pregnant... IN THE KITCHEN. Bwa ha ha ha!" Personally, I still don't get it.

But when she entered the first grade, I paid $10 for a PTA membership for him and me both. So now he is a card-carrying member of the PTA too. Take that, Mocky McMockerson.

I go to the meetings when I can - meaning when they don't conflict with my evening orchestra rehearsals, which has not been often this year. Nothing much really happens at them and I find myself tweeting random thoughts that pop into my head during the meeting just to stay awake. But back in March, The Dormouse was identified by the school for the My Kid Can Beat Up Your Curriculum program. I didn't think much about it in the way of what this meant for me until a couple of days later when she came home with a handful of fliers and I found out that not only are there are three completely different options for how kids in this program are served but that this program also has it's very own PTA. So I went ahead and joined that too.

*sigh*

And then, there was this incident where the coordinator at the school, who was supposed to answer all my questions, said something like, "You should consider this other school" and then neglected to tell me that not only was there a lottery for placement in this school but that the deadline for said lottery program that was less than forty-eight hours from the moment of our conversation. I was told about that by someone in the PTA meeting I happened to attend - two hours after the five o'clock deadline that had happened earlier that day. Since I was kind of pissed about that, I may or may not have let my ticked-offedness get the better of me and raised my hand when they made a plea for volunteers to run for office on this PTA board next year because hey, at least I'll get to know stuff the school district officials won't tell me if I'm on the board.

So now here I am, a member of not one, BUT TWO Parent Teacher Associations for one kid and quite possibly going to be a board member on one of them and The KingofHearts does not let a second go by wherein he misses a chance to tease me about this. I'm starting to see why it's funny in a sad, sad loser sort of way.

So as I was at one of the PTA meetings on a rainy night last week, sitting in a hard chair in the elementary school cafeteria with fans blowing so loudly I could not hear anything any one was saying, I started to wonder, "What am I doing here? How did my life come to THIS?"

And then the President of that PTA stood up to answer questions and someone asked, "What's the status of the school uniforms?"

A little background: last year, the subject of mandatory school uniforms came up at the PTA. As is process in our district, there needed to be a petition signed by a minimum number of people to request a vote of all the families in the school. Then once it was put to a vote, seventy-five percent of the families needed to vote yay for uniforms. (I'm ambivalent about school uniforms as I might have mentioned, but I voted no simply because it's one less thing for me to do.) They didn't get anywhere near the required percentage of yes votes. What I learned later was that they had held a vote the year before which was voted down as well. Then this year, out of nowhere, The Dormouse came home with yet aNOTHer voting-on-school-uniforms ballot. "Good heavens," I wrote under my no vote on the ballot form, "this is the third year in a row we've voted on this issue and it's clear the families don't want uniforms. At this point it just seems like someone on the board has a pet issue."

So when the question was asked at the PTA meeting about the results of the third vote in three years on the subject of making uniforms required at the elementary school, the PTA president said this:

"Well, as many you know the most recent ballot on the question of uniforms did not receive enough yes votes to pass, so there will be no mandatory uniforms at the school next year." *pause* "We are currently talking to the principal to explore the possibility of voluntary uniforms next year."

Seriously. How freakin' funny is that? That was my entertainment for the week.

In the last year I've become keenly aware of the fact that a parent is the last bastion of responsibility when making sure their kids learn - whatever it is you want them to learn. It doesn't matter if it's church, school, the socialist government, whatever, I've come to understand that even in the best of situations, there are going to be holes in my kids' education and it's up to me to find a way to plug them. And if I'm not willing to step up and plug those holes, no one else is going to do it. Being a part of a PTA (or two) is just one way for me to work on that. So that's why I'm going to cowboy up and do it despite the fact that there aren't very many things I'd rather do less.

After the uniform discussion, the candidates running for positions on next year's board were introduced and asked to say a few words about themselves to the group. They handed the microphone around and each person took a turn saying their name, how many kids they had in the school and how old those kids were. No one elaborated. No one turned it into a campaign speech. Truthfully, they all seemed to feel as stuck and resigned to this situation as I am. Until, that is, they got to the last person, who took the mike -- and I swear on the toffee flavored ice cream I just made that is waiting for me in the refrigerator, I am not making this up -- these were her exact words:

"Hello, I'm [name redacted] and I have a seven year old daughter in first grade and I just want to say that I believe that children are our future. And my feeling is that we should teach them well so that they can lead the way for the next generation."

Admittedly, this woman looked to be about as young as you possibly could be and still have a seven year old kid. I realize there's a distinct possibility that she is young enough that she doesn't even know the Whitney Houston song, but can we all just agree that I showed incredible restraint in NOT putting my mobile phone up on the air, turning it on, and swaying from side to side? I'm going to need accolades for this because IT WASN'T EASY. Also not easy: Refraining from raising my hand and adding, "Yes! We should show them all the beauty the possess inside and maybe also we could give them a sense of pride so it would be easier..."

So I'm also doing it for opportunities to practice self-control.

That and the mockery.

3 cents added |

Purple Flower

Posted on 5/16/2010 08:15:00 PM - by NG

I'm not very good at plant names. I recently submitted some photos to an exhibit where I had to "provide the botanical names" for all the photos I took. The list I sent them looked something like this:

weed
helicopter seed from tree (maple?)
Eastern Tent Caterpillar on some type of moss
pine-ish tree
cool flower I do not know the name of

I like to think I gave the judges a good laugh, but I'm guessing they just shook their heads. The thing is, Google all you want, but you can only narrow down the one hundred and seventy-eight thousand hits by so much when all you've got to go on is "flower, white petals, yellow center."

Similarly, this might be some sort of iris, but it flowers in clumps and I've never seen an iris like that so I'm just gonna go with "Purple Flower."

6 cents added |

Fake Raindrops

Posted on 5/14/2010 07:00:00 AM - by NG In: Photoshop Phun

Taken through a car window on a rainy day in May.

OK - I lied. It was taken on a sunny day and April with liberal doses of photoshop.

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Up To the Highest Height

Posted on 5/13/2010 02:26:00 PM - by NG

I'm coming to the end of a couple of weeks where, through a series of events that were both willingly chosen and guilt driven, I have severely overextended myself. I blame this mainly on my old nemesis, The Phone, and a few ill-considered actions in which I for some ridiculous reason, chose to answer it when it rang and then could not say no to whoever or whatever was on the other end. I have been to PTA meetings, rehearsals, concerts, played special numbers for church, filled in as organist, taught classes on parenting skills (I know!), showed up to events to act as photographer, and just in general been a point person for a number of outside-my-work-hours work things not to mention two Really Big Things I am working on for my actual job responsibilities. In other words, all work and no play make Alice an absentee mom. Note to self: learning how to say "no" occasionally could come in quite helpful. Every time I think "if I can just get past Tuesday. Tuesday is the last of my commitments and after Tuesday, all will be at rest and I can breathe," then I realize "oops, except for that thing Wednesday."

Last weekend, The KingofHearts announced to the girls that we'd be heading out to test out the aerodynamics of paper and string and they'd better get their shoes on, stat. Not having any idea what he meant, they still didn't want to miss out and scampered off to find shoes and put something on other than diapers and underwear. When we finally got to our destination, here's what he had planned.

Despite little wind that morning, we found a nice kite flying hill and managed to get some kites off the ground, which greatly impressed me. When I was a kid, I could never get a kite up in the air for more then ten seconds unless I was running at full speed and that never lasted long, so I was dubious about the girls' abilities to handle this activity without great frustration, but apparently that had something to do with the fact that where I grew up in the desert where moving air barely has the force needed to spread the seed of a dandelion plant. I was pleasantly surprised that even The Caterpillar was able to get her kite flying in the actual air for a decent amount of time.

That is, until a big wind snuck up on her and she let go of the string. The The KoH went comically sprinting across the length of the field, trying to catch it. When he got almost to the edge of the park where the fence would have stopped him, I thought he was almost going to get it and he reached his hand out with his fingers juuuust about closing around the string only to have the wind suddenly snatch it from his grasp and lodge the entire thing at the top of a very large tree and while we stood under it, considering whether that branch there might hold his weight if he climbed up, the string broke and the entire thing went sailing off into the neighborhood, never to be seen again. I imagine it would have made Charlie Brown pump his fist in solidarity.

The Dormouse hardly noticed the drama but kept a watchful eye on her kite thereafter.

The Caterpillar, however, was unfazed by all the drama and simply found another way to entertain herself: "Look! Dirt!"

At least it beat Kite Day.

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Notblue Bells

Posted on 5/12/2010 07:07:00 AM - by NG

My other favorite of the photos I took and submitted to a local exhibition last week. This also was not chosen. Are we sensing a theme here? Like maybe I should not be judging photography contests?

I don't know what this plant is. If you do, please tell me. These delicate little blooms are each about the size of a percocet capsule (don't ask me how I know that) and the color is so subtle it was almost an afterthought. I had to boost up the contrast and the saturation to make it read on film properly (well, not "film," but what else do you call it these days? They really need to come up with a word for that). I love that the stamen of the plant come in a color so complimentary, that I'd find them both on the same page of the PMS Swatch book, just on opposite ends. I want some for my front yard.

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Red Maple Seed

Posted on 5/11/2010 07:25:00 AM - by NG

For Mother's Day this year, I didn't get breakfast in bed, jewelry from Jareds, a trip to the spa for a pedicure, or even the undying appreciation from those who love me. But I did buy myself a ridiculously expensive camera and snazzy new lens so I'm gonna call it a win.

I submitted five photos to a photography exhibition last week and two of them were chosen. Imagine how much time I could have wasted for that if I'd had that camera then. Here's one that didn't get selected. Which is a shame really, because I think this one is my favorite of the five and clearly the judges didn't see it that way. But whatevs, I gots me a spot on the wall for something.

2 cents added |

Bad Case of Bed Head

Posted on 5/09/2010 07:49:00 AM - by NG

This is how she looks when she wakes up. Every. Day. The hair twisting thing might be getting out of hand.

It occurs to me that back when I wrote this post, the dilemma was to cut or not to cut her hair. I am sorry to report that, lo, this many months later, we still have never given her a hair cut. She has so little of it compared to other kids her age, it hardly seems fair to take any away. So mostly I put pony tails in it and let her get her finger stuck in it. Interestingly, when I wrote that post a year and a half ago, I had no idea how appropriate that poem would become for her. It bears repeating:

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

Indeed.

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Weed

Posted on 5/08/2010 07:25:00 AM - by NG

1 cents added |

Ridiculously Pink Azalea

Posted on 5/07/2010 07:03:00 AM - by NG

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The Magic Flute

Posted on 5/05/2010 09:00:00 AM - by NG

Several years ago, The KingofHearts created a Kendo/Writers Group with some folks from church and the neighborhood. I ~~mockingly~~ lovingly refer to this as his "Little Circle of Friends." They meet once a week for a Japanese sword fighting lesson (there is actually a rationale for why these two things must be done together which I won't bother to poke holes in at this time) and then to gather around the proverbial hearth and talk about writing, read each other's writing, make suggestions and comments for improving their writing and just generally yank everyone's chains.

You might think that this would be something that I'd dig because, despite my often inept (sometimes purposeful, sometimes not) use of the English language here on this weblog, I am a not-so-closeted competent writing/grammar geek. However, there are four things keeping me from horning in on their fun 1) he deserves to have something that I don't meddle in and 2) I think I've explained before why I don't read much these days 3) I'm not much of a fiction reader anyway; I gravitate to non-fiction when I do have time to read and 4) they are are primarily interested in the fantasy and science-fiction genres and oh-my-heavenly-stars-above-in-the-sky, when I do read fiction, fantasy couldn't interest me less. Especially badly written fantasy and sci-fi, which I maintain, is about seventy-five percent of the work that goes published in the English language. (But not Plan 9 From Outer Space; that's just awesome.)

In general, I like to read my husband's work. He's a good writer; he has an interesting voice. I, personally, don't respond to the subject matter he digs reading and chooses to write. But because he mostly writes well, I can handle reading his stuff. But ask me to read other people's fantasy stories and, well I'm sorry, that's just more than in sickness and in health, for better or worse.

Once, many years ago, I tried to read Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time series to placate The KoH because he loved it. I had to stop because the urge to walk into the kitchen, take a pair of chopsticks out of the drawer and firmly insert one into each eyeball socket in my skull just so I would have an excuse to discontinue reading nine more books was JUST TOO STRONG. Seriously, what is with that series? That dude is dead, and HE'S STILL WRITING BOOKS. He even beats Tupac Shakur for posthumous publications.

And now that I've offended possibly every person reading.

*grand curtsy*

The weekly meeting was originally held at our house, which Dormouse loved because, a room full of captive adult attention? HEL-LO! How could it get any better than this? I mostly didn't mind them using the house and occasionally joined in or just found something to do elsewhere in the house while they met. The problem with this was that The Caterpillar has a bedroom about ten feet away from the only room in our house big enough to hold a group of people and a bedtime which precedes the end of the meeting. So it often got loud - not drunken brawl in the hotel room hallway loud, but just too loud for her to go to sleep. So when another member of the group bought a house, the meeting moved there.

By this time, The Dormouse was reading and writing herself asked to go to the meetings with Daddy. And as she gets older, her natural precocious self wants to contribute more and more. So she sometimes writes some of her own stories and poems and brings them along to the meetings with The KoH. I don't really discourage this because a) I think it's good for her to be motivated to read and write more and b) it's her time with Daddy. She now refers to it as "My Writers' Group."

Last week, a colleague called me at night for a work related issue and, as she knows The Dormouse and is always very sweet and kind with her, asked to talk to her for a minute.

"Oh, she's not home," I said absentmindedly, "She's at her weekly Writers' Group."

And then I stopped cold because I just then heard the words coming out of my mouth and realized what a pretentious, aureate remark it possibly sounded that I'd told another adult that my six-year-old was at her "weekly writers' group" meeting.

Said kind colleague, "She's at her what?!?"

And then I had a conversation that sounded very much like previous several paragraphs I've written here, wherein I try to apologetically sound like I wasn't the pushy, overbearing stage-mother I'm sure I'm coming of as here.

To her credit, my kind colleague understood perfectly and thinks it's adorable.

"OK then," she said, "Tell her this is what I want. I want her to write me a story. But I want her to include one thing: there must be a flute in the story."

Always happy for a new challenge, this is what The Dormouse came up with:

Once upon a time there was a girl named Wendy. She wanted to play the flute. She ran over to the musical instrument store. She bought a big flute. It was a sliver glowing flute. It looked like the sun was always shining on it. It cost a fortune for the flute! It cost 300 cents! Then, she went home and played the flute for an hour on the piece of music called Chicophsciy*. She played it perfectly well even though it was her first time doing it. Dooo strumm laaa dummm... and so on. The next morning she woke up and went in to the kitchen. To her surprise, she saw a cake on the kitchen table in the dining room on a big, shiny table... instead of a little wood-disgusting table. The cake had a little glass plate that seemed to blend in with the table. There was a little card snapped to the plate. It said:

Dear Wendy, this cake and this plate are for you. Happy birthday! Love, Mom.

So, to her surprise, all her friends, family and neighbors all jumped out and said SURPRISE! Then they all ate the cake. And they all lived happily ever after.

The end.

I'm never quite sure where the line between encouraging my children to achieve their full potential and try new things ends and once you cross over, you land smack dab in the middle of pompous snobbery. In our society, we constantly send out double messages. Have a healthy sense of self-esteem. Believe in your abilities. But don't get too haughty about it. We tell our kids they should be proud of who they are and their accomplishments, but when they talk about it, we tell them to be humble. I think maybe this is just my childhood emotional baggage. As I kid, I was always keenly aware of whether anything I was saying to someone else came off as bragging or, even if it wasn't, if someone else would interpret it that way. I was a smart kid in school, I excelled at music, but I always felt like I needed to hide those things from the other kids and I certainly couldn't talk anything like that because it might be perceived as showing off. They, however, could sure as heck ask me for help with homework and it was pretty much expected that I would, not because I had any affinity toward teaching or was good at tutoring, but because they felt I should. Society constantly tells children they aren't good enough, too ugly, too fat, too whatever, so we fight against that. But when they do excel at whatever it is they do, we tell them not to let it go to their heads. It's a delicate dance.

The Dormouse was recently identified at school to be included in an advanced learning track to serve her specific needs better. And look at me, still not even being able to say the words; out with it: she's been identified as "gifted." Whatever that means. We have the option of keeping her in her current school with specialized education or sending her to a different school entirely where there'll be a more comprehensive curriculum. But somewhere, in the back of my mind, there's this persistent, constant voice saying, "Well, just don't let her get all uppity about it." Which is probably not the first thing I need to consistently think about when considering my daughter's education. Even at work, where my colleagues are a bunch of therapists and totally get special educational needs of all kinds, I find myself not comfortable talking about this issue. Two of my colleagues have children with special needs on the other end of the educational spectrum and it just feels erudite - even though I know they wouldn't see it that way. So I sit mute when they ask me how school's going for her and mutter "fine" into my burrito from Chipotle.

I don't want her to go to this school just because it's prestigious. I want her to go because it's the right place for her. And it may not be. It may turn out that we don't even have the option of attending due to the limited enrollment which requires everyone to apply to a lottery for a spot. (Which -- don't even get me started on the whole having to be lucky enough to win a lottery to get the right educational placement for my child factor.) I'm secretly hoping that we don't win that lottery so it's not my decision anymore and I can blame someone else if I'm not happy with the results.

Until then, I'm just going to let her go to her Writers' Group.

*Chicophsciy = Tchaikovsky. It's nice to see that despite the mouthful that are most classical music composers' names, she still attempted this one.

4 cents added |

Well... There You Go Then

Posted on 5/04/2010 05:55:00 PM - by NG

Me, to The Caterpillar, who is digging in the diaper section of the cabinet: "What are you doing?"

*startled* "I'm getting a pull-up!"

"What for?"

*blank stare* "For my butt."

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Red Maple By Morning Light

Posted on 5/03/2010 03:54:00 PM - by NG

2 cents added |

Get Yer Tickets Here!

Posted on 5/03/2010 05:20:00 AM - by NG

In case you haven't noticed 'round these here parts, music is a big part of what I do and who I am, both professionally and personally. I am one of those hippie types who believes that creating and responding to music is a basic human behavior. Though I've looked for it a hundred times and never been able to find who said it, I once read a quote pointing out that from an anthropological standpoint, while there have been many cultures discovered that didn't have a form of written language, there has never been a culture discovered, living or dead, that didn't have a form of music and dance.

(Seriously, if you know that quote, please respond in the comments with the citation because I have been pulling my hair out for YEARS trying to find it. Also if anyone knows the quote by Plato or Socrates or someone back in olden times who said that the music of today was ruining our generation's youth, I'd love to have that too. That would have come in handy about a kajillion times over the past few decades.)

If you ever doubt music as a basic human response just watch your kids sometime. Case in point:

That's The Dormouse at fifteen months. I love this video clip so much, I'm going to have my will contain the clause that it shall be buried with me.

Here's The Caterpillar on her second birthday:

I love this part of being a parent so much - watching them discover and respond to things that make them dance or laugh. It almost makes up for the three pairs of urine-soaked underwear I had to change yesterday. Almost.

I also love finding local venues that give kids a chance to express and experience music of all types. I don't know, maybe there are lots of places like this in other cities, but I have to say that in the Washington area, access to that kind of stuff is one of my very favorite things.

This is all leading up to... wait for it... my very first giveaway on this blog! *blog... og... og...*

The nice people at MusiKids contacted me and asked if I'd like to promote their Moms' Night Out event on May 6th in exchange for two free passes to the event. While I love the idea of using this webspace for personal gain, sadly, I have a rehearsal that evening. Which makes it your lucky day.

Yeah, yeah, I know Official Delurker Day was way back in January, but... you know... I forgot... and stuff. Also: this is Underland, where things don't work exactly as they are supposed to.

So this makes it also: my very first shameless bid for comments! *omments... omments... omments...*

Comment on this post and tell me your favorite kind of music to play for your kids. Or comment and tell me your favorite music to play for other peoples' kids that drives those other people crazy. Or just comment and tell me U2 sucks. It's your opinion; I don't care. Comment as many times as you want. Just do it before Tuesday, May 4th at 12:00 pm (that's high noon). I'll randomly select one commenter by asking my cat to think of a number between one and one-hundred (I hope there isn't a flaw in that logic) and the winner will receive two free passes to the May 6th MusicKids event. Oh, and you need to provide me with an email address so I can contact you. But as long as you have profile with a email address linked to it, you don't have to include that email address in your comment.

Here's all the relevant information, in case you're a planner, unlike me. Or in case you aren't a winner, but still want to attend. You can do that, I'm pretty sure.

Don’t Miss Moms Night Out at MusiKids

MusiKids, the DC area's preeminent music & movement program, will host its first ever Moms Night Out at its Bethesda studio on Thursday, May 6 from 7:30-9:30 p.m. Come sing, socialize and celebrate motherhood with MusiKids staff and other DC-area mothers.

In addition to tasty nibbles and refreshments from Thyme Out, the evening will feature:
mini massages from Be You Bi You Spa
mothering tips from the Center for Growing Families
beginner kitting lessons from Knit Out of the Box
andkaraoke to release one’s inner songstress.
Tickets to Moms Night Out are available for $12 by calling 301-215-7946 or e-mailing info@musiKids.com. They can also be purchased for $15 at the door.

MusiKids is located at 4900 Auburn Ave. in Bethesda. For more information, visit www.musikids.com.

It sounds like a blast. Maybe I'll change my schedule and rig the event to win myself. That's not wrong, is it?

Sorry for all you who read this and don't live in the local area. You're gonna have to get to Bethesda on your own power and/or dollar. I'll see if I can scare up some kind of giveaway that applies to out of state folks some other time. Maybe I'll give away my cat.

9 cents added |

Streaky

Posted on 5/01/2010 05:12:00 AM - by NG

The tulips are gone now and all that is left in their stead is an army of green, headless stems. Now we have to sit and wait for the next thing to bloom. But in honor of May Day, here's the last of the tulip photos.

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Feral House

Posted on 4/29/2010 05:56:00 AM - by NG

There's a house a few blocks over that's been vacant for... pretty much forever... long before the market took a nose dive into the hot, molten pool of metal that is the current economy, at least. It reminds me from that scene in Prince Caspian when they go back to Narnia and everything's overgrown and nature has taken back all the buildings. It makes me wonder if this is where C. S. Lewis got the idea.

See? There really is a house back there.

3 cents added |

Watery

Posted on 4/28/2010 05:47:00 AM - by NG In: DC

Water fountains are big in D.C. and I love all the attention that's paid around the monuments to them, from the Roosevelt to the WWII. I love the peace and solitude you get from sitting next to them - even when there are a hundred other people around. I'm constantly trying to capture the play of light and speed that comes off the water and mostly I fail. But these two, at the Museum of the American Indian and the Botanical Gardens respectively, are my best attempts.

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Mirror Image

Posted on 4/27/2010 07:30:00 AM - by NG In: pets

Remember these guys? Though we do not know their exact birth date, by our calculations, they turned a year old this month. They look like grown up cats now.

Long, rubbery, stretched out, grown up cats.

It's nice to have a couple of pure breeds around to class up the joint.

The KingofHearts went to an allergist this week and found, to his surprise, that he's allergic to cats. (Which is odd because even before he met me and my Lizzy, he pretty much always lived with cats.) He's also allergic to dogs, horses, cows, ferrets, rabbits and dust mites, so please don't suggest any of those as an alternative pet - we've already looked into it.

Dormouse: "Daddy is allergic to cats."

Me: "I heard that. Guess it means we have to get rid of the cats."

Dormouse: "No!"

Me: "Well, we either have to get rid of the cats or we have to get rid of Daddy. Which do you think?"

Dormouse: "... ..."

Me: "Wow, you're really thinking about this, aren't you?"

Dormouse: "... ..."

KoH: "Which do you think does more for us around the house?"

Dormouse: "The cats. Definitely."

KoH: "Yeah, you're probably right."

In his defense, the cats are not converting the half bath in the basement to a full bath, so I tend not to agree with her. They do, however, sleep on my feet at night and keep my toes warm. It's a tough call.

Don't worry, we aren't getting rid of the cats. As it turns out, he only has a mild reaction to cat dander. So we'll be keeping Maggie and Barker, but picking them up and rubbing his face in their bellies, is no longer an approved way to pass the time. He does, however, have a strong, almost violent, reaction to dust mites. So unfortunately, John, Paul, George and Ringo have to go... along with my dreams of the fame and fortune that accompany running the most popular flea circus in the Western world.

*sigh*

In other pet news, our prodigal possum has returned.

Though I tried very hard last year to take care of kitty and make him feel at home, he finally left and hadn't been back until yesterday, when I heard a kerfuffle outside my window as I was getting ready to leave in the morning. It stopped, so I didn't think much else about it until I went out to get in the car and spied this:

I love how the closer

and closer I get

the more still he becomes.

Seriously, I was walking around right under him for a good three or four minutes and he didn't move a single muscle, nor did he even turn an eye to watch me. Not even when I put on the flash and took a picture,

did he flinch or try to run away. I guess that's why they call it playing possum.

He clearly loves us and wants to come back home.

I like to think of it as my own version little Incredible Journey story, witnessed here by my humble household, and I wonder where he's been and what he's seen. The Obama inauguration? The passage of Health Care Reform? Stayed in the Watergate hotel and reported a break-in? He could be the Forest Gump of the opossum world.

And I know what you're thinking, "How do you know this is the same opossum?" I don't. But shhhh, The Dormouse might hear you.

I wonder if they tested for opossum dander on the scratch test?

3 cents added |

Tribal

Posted on 4/26/2010 05:16:00 AM - by NG In: DC

This statue of a Kachina stands outside the Museum of the American Indian. The first time The Caterpillar saw it, she looked up at it and said, "It's a monster!"

1 cents added |

Grand Ole Flags

Posted on 4/25/2010 05:02:00 AM - by NG

There's a guy with a business in the neighborhood who basically erected the mast from a tall ship to display his flag collection. This is just the top of the piece. I'm thinking he might have a slight affinity toward the U.S. Navy and may or may not have been a Marine, but it's just a guess.

In my last neighborhood, the people who lived in the other side of the duplex we shared erected a twelve-foot wooden cross with a giant spotlight on it at Easter time. So I'm kinda thinking this is better.

2 cents added |

Making the Car Ride More Interesting

Posted on 4/24/2010 08:17:00 PM - by NG

Caterpillar: "DAD! I see a tree!"

Dormouse: "DAD! I see a sign!"

Caterpillar: "DAD! I see some grass!"

Dormouse: "DAD! I see a bird!"

Caterpillar: "DAD! I see a building!"

Me *unable to resist*: "DAD! I see some asphalt! I see a car! I see the sky!"

Daddy: "Hey all my girls, I'm looking for some peace, does anyone see that?"

Dormouse *pointing*: "Yes. I think I see it riiiiiiight up there."

Me: "Aaaaaaaaaand, there it went."

0 cents added |

I ♥ Nuts

Posted on 4/24/2010 04:57:00 AM - by NG

Ants seem to too.

2 cents added |

Finishing Touch for a Lady Gaga Costume

Posted on 4/23/2010 10:54:00 AM - by NG

I'm SO not going to a two year old pedicurist again.

The need to paint Momma's toes must be a developmental stage. At least this color doesn't make me look like I've been dangled off a the back of a crane moving at thirty miles per hour with my toes just grazing the ground. So there's that.

1 cents added |

A Bug's Eye View

Posted on 4/23/2010 04:55:00 AM - by NG

Just setting the camera down on the grass and randomly clicking the shutter can sometimes have interesting results.

2 cents added |

Sleepy Sisters

Posted on 4/22/2010 04:36:00 AM - by NG

On the last day of The Dormouse's Spring break, I took the day off work, ~~blew off~~ made other arrangements for all my responsibilities and told the girls they'd get one day all to themselves. So I called up another mom I'm ~~trying to make be my friend~~ friendly with and she brought her two boys and met us at an indoor playground.

This place is crazy big and divided into about two dozen different "rooms," each with a different theme. The walls, however, only stand about three feet tall, so parents can see their kids from different rooms. It's like a giant cubicle farm for children. There's a bug room, a space room, a beach room, a school house room, a music room, a weather station room, etc. The fireman room has an actual fire truck in it - that's how extensive this place is. We spent about two hours there, had lunch at the cafe, and then they played for another two and a half hours before they even started to look like they might be wearing out. Once we got in the car, however, it was crash city and at a stop light, I turned my camera backwards to take this picture:

I love that these girls mostly get along. That they play together. Have meaningful conversations. There is always going to be bickering and that, I expected, but my first thought when we found out that The Caterpillar was going to be a girl was that I hoped they'd grow up to have a close relationship with one another. I don't know how much a parent can really do to influence that one way or another, but every once in awhile you get a glimpse of what might be and this picture gives me hope.

4 cents added |

Lineman of the Neighborhood

Posted on 4/21/2010 07:34:00 AM - by NG

Is anyone reading this old enough to remember that old Glen Campbell song, Witchita Lineman? Whenever I look at this telephone pole, that oddball song starts going through my head. I think I've posted photos of this telephone pole on my street here before, but the angles and shapes fascinate me so I keep taking pictures of it. I sometimes stand there looking up and trying to figure out just how many distinct wires are up there and what they are for. And then when my neighbors call the cops about the crazy woman who's standing on their lawn and staring into the sun, I run.

2 cents added |

Unnatural in So Many Ways

Posted on 4/20/2010 10:27:00 AM - by NG

I bought these daisies a couple of weeks ago in the grocery store because I was in a particularly sour mood and I needed a lift. The colors were created by putting the cut flowers in dye and letting them soak it up until it showed through the petals. I can tell because the leaves of each flower is similarly colored to the petals.

Also: because when you put one in clear water it does this:

Then they lasted almost three weeks before I had to throw them out. Whoever said, Red dye#40 wasn't good for you?

1 cents added |

Making the Brothers Grimm

Posted on 4/19/2010 08:58:00 PM - by NG

A collection of fairy tales, as told by The Caterpillar. As you can see, she's incredibly imaginative and each story comes alive with unique nuances in her deft story-telling hands.

The Tale of Sleeping Beauty:

The Tale of Cinderella:

The Tale of Snow White:

The Tale of... What's Her Name Again?... Oh Yeah, Rapunzel:

Who needs new plot complications when the one you've got works so well?

But if you insist on something completely different...

The Tale of Benjamin Barker:

4 cents added |

Touched with Yellow Gold

Posted on 4/19/2010 09:23:00 AM - by NG

Johnny Jump-Ups are maybe one my favorite flowers ever. They're basically tiny pansies. Tiny, angry looking pansies.

5 cents added |

Southwestern Style Landscape

Posted on 4/18/2010 09:16:00 AM - by NG In: DC

I've been to the National Museum of the American Indian several times and I'm completely in love with the building. I never looked at it from this view across the street though. It's almost like you're in the Southwest - without all the scorpions and rattlesnakes.