Tuesday, September 8, 2009
In other news, here are my lovely new dishes. I spent forever in Target debating whether they would really work, but they do, oh, how they do.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Day two, he said, "well, socially I think this will be fine, but I'm not so sure about academically." He was anxious about already being behind because of computer issues. (No wireless access in the temporary building makes it tough to do online school.) That evening we talked to his US History teacher, who suggested that he start history and math after Labor Day, and the academic pressure relaxed.
Day three, yesterday, massive confusion about pick-up location amidst a torrential downpour, but when he finally made it home, he said, "I had a really fun day today." YAY!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
I guess it's still a good home, though. When I looked through the viewfinder, I realized that the plant had an inhabitant that seemed quite happy to be there, although less happy to have a giant looming human peering at it.
Even more than the dead rosemary, though, I can't believe that the flowers are thriving. Plants are weird.
I had another picture of the plants, a close-up. But I couldn't resist this one with Zelda smiling at me from the door. Happy flowers, a happy dog, a happy lizard--three out of four isn't so bad.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Tenterhooks were used as far back as the fourteenth century in the process of making woollen cloth. After the cloth was woven it still contained oil from the fleece and some dirt. A fuller (also called a tucker or walker) cleaned the woolen cloth in a fulling mill, and then had to dry it carefully or the wool would shrink. To prevent this shrinkage, the fuller would place the wet cloth on a large wooden frame, a "tenter", and leave it to dry outside. The lengths of wet cloth were stretched on the tenter (from the Latin "tendere", to stretch) using hooks (nails driven through the wood) all around the perimeter of the frame to which the cloth's edges (selvages) were fixed so that as it dried the cloth would retain its shape and size. At one time it would have been common in manufacturing areas to see tenter-fields full of these frames.
By the mid-eighteenth century the phrase "on tenterhooks" came into use to mean being in a state of uneasiness, anxiety, or suspense, stretched like the cloth on the tenter.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
In other news, the bird is chewing up my credit card bill, making little pieces with which she will pretend to build a nest. I like this use for a credit card bill better than any other I could have imagined.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
The new water game uses the basketball. People get points every time we successfully throw the ball out of the pool and manage to get it to roll under the patio table. The dog tries to block it, of course. We lose points every time Zelda jumps into the water to retrieve the ball because we haven't passed it back out to her quickly enough.
Friday, June 12, 2009
A quick backtrack, we have a huge tree in our backyard and a happy squirrel population. Also cows across the road, chickens nearby enough to hear, lizards continually, and occasionally some other oddity, like once a gopher tortoise got trapped in the backyard while on its commute to the mating grounds (no idea where those were, it's just what the books say gopher tortoises do) and once, extremely oddly, some guinea fowl had to be lifted over the fence. It had been a windy night so apparently they got blown in? The question mark is because honestly, it made no sense to me, but my point is that strange wildlife in the backyard is not an anomaly. A tree mouse sounded plausible.
So the boy sees the tree mouse a few times and reports it to me every time but somehow I always miss it. Then yesterday, he calls me, and I come running. Tree mouse? It's a rat! A RAT! In my backyard!! Climbing the tree!!!
He still thinks its a tree mouse however, so we go online and look at pictures, and confirm that no, it's a rat. A real rat. Apparently Florida has rats called roof rats. And they can climb. And there's at least one, probably many more, living in my tree--or possibly my roof. Ack. I am completely creeped out.
But then, I go off with my boyo to visit my sister and her kids. And as we drive, the boy says, Look, look, mom, there's a feathered tree mouse!
It's a bird.
And then five minutes later, it's look, look, Mom, there's a predatory feathered tree mouse.
It's a hawk.
And ten minutes later, it's look, look, Mom, there are some GIGANTIC tree mice.
Deer, three of them.
And the tree mouse being a rat, okay, that was funny. But my boy being able to laugh at himself like that, that was priceless. It turns out that 13 actually does have a good side.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
As it is, it's been a busy few months, what with illness, injuries, emergency room visits and trips to Texas, California, and next week Seattle. And, of course, the interminable teeth appointments. (Implants finally done, braces close to over. Six months from now, I might have working front teeth again.)
So it's probably just as well that we haven't had to move yet. But the closer we get to true Florida summer, the more afraid I get. I don't like it here when it's too hot to move. I'm dismayed that I have no escapes planned, and yet, it's hard to plan for an escape when I don't know when or if we'll be moving. And the longer nothing is final, the more I agonize over the decisions. To buy or not to buy. To have a pool or not. To send R. to Walden or back to Center. I hate it when my brain starts to travel in circles around questions that I can't answer.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
There are three moments that I love in the video, that I've gone back to again and again. The first is when she smiles her cheeky grin. There's a moment, right before the music starts, when she almost smirks at the audience. It's as if she's saying, "I know something you don't." Her confidence radiates. And it's confidence despite the forgotten word, the awkward stripper's hip roll, the skepticism she must have already seen the judges show--it's confidence in the face of adversity and it's thrilling.
And then there's the moment in the song when she so gracefully hits and holds the high notes on the word "shame," the five steps that reach the ceiling. The audience is on its feet, screaming, Amanda is on her feet, the judge to the right is laughing, and even the cynic is leaning back, smiling. It's almost possible to feel, just from the video, the joy and the energy that is filling that room. That's a goose-bump moment. It has nothing to do with Susan Boyle's eyebrows: it's about the feeling of being part of a crowd that is witnessing something miraculous. Oh, maybe part of the miracle is that a frumpy woman with funny eyebrows is creating the joy, but it's the joy that's amazing, not the woman singing.
Finally, I love when she finishes her song and starts walking off stage. The judges are calling her back, Simon beckoning with the patronizing single finger of a man who knows his power, and she's just walking. She did what she came there for; she sang in front of a large audience and she made that audience rock. And now she's done.
Now that I've picked three moments, I have to admit there are others. There's how she seems so surprised, almost babbling when Amanda says yes; and there's the almost shy kiss she blows the audience as she's walking off stage after having pumped the air like a footballer; and there's the lovely woman in the audience bouncing in her seat with happiness; (and I do have to wonder what it feels like for those audience members who have now been seen by something like 50 million people; it must be horrible to be one of those in the beginning whose most famous moment in life might be as an example of what not to do as an audience member.) All of which brings me to my final thought, which is that the film editor is brilliant. Yes, maybe he or she had good material to work with, but it was still an incredible job. A real person picked each of those seconds of reaction shots, each angle onstage, and he or she created a seven-minute masterpiece. Compare it to the Paul Potts video and you'll see what I mean.
And now, having posted for the first time on months on something that is completely unrelated to saving my own memories (which is what I think this blog is for, really), I'm going to go watch it again. If I'd known that I'd watch it this many times, I would have counted because I expect someday to hit 100!
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The scrapes and scratches on the walls are invisible in this picture, which shows the front door from the perspective of the room in which one would formally eat on major holidays and which would otherwise be unused.
It is truly pathetic that I don't understand how to use flickr. Really, pathetic. And yet--I have to wonder--if it's hard for me, can they really be perfect for the audience they intend to reach? (And yes, my keyboard is still short a critical letter. It interferes with all work to try to think around it.)