slurp this
May 31, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
the heat has made a headache of me. without coffee i want to cry, curl up and sleep for hours and hours and hours and hours. i am not myself, though the recent discovery of claritin has (along with the itching and sneezing and watering) removed the need for the heat of a coffee to clear my sinuses in the early morning haze.
it’s humid, it’s close to terrible. today there’s a “cool front” that is not really cold, but is not sticky as it has been.
the woolen rug is horrible underfoot. the couch is now draped in something cold for summer. the fans run and everything is heard through a whirr.
starbucks is a forty-five minute drive away, sadly, horribly, ridiculously. so i sought for a solution to my coffee addiction problem: a frozen and cold caramel frappuccino concoction to save the days from the monster inside this head.
though i found a few recipes on this googled page, here’s my own version.
caramel frappuccino for much less than $5:
1/3 c. really strong espresso, chilled
2 c. cubed ice; then crush, slush
3/4 c. lowfat milk
1/4 c. half & half
2.5 T. sugar, white, granulated
1/4 c. caramel syrup
crush ice in blender. add espresso, milk, half & half, sugar, and caramel. whirl. drool. pour into glasses (2). top with whipped cream. slurp through straw. repeat.
belfry
May 31, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
to the animal-death sensitive reader: you may want to skip a reading of this one; the following contains graphic photos and words.
“did you just throw something over here?” i say, squinting sleepily in the light of the tv.
“what?” says ernie, waking up, concerned.
“oh, great!” i say as i make a leap for the lamp.
the bat is swooping around the living room. i’m close to the door so i run for the basement as ernie is yelling, “get the racket!”
on my way back up the stairs the thing dives down and over my hair. i screech. ernie says, “i think there may be more than one!” upstairs i hide under a blanket. “are you kidding me?! you don’t want to be under there,” ernie says. i peek out in time to see him jump into the air and swing around with the racket. he is quite accomplished with jedi worthy reflexes and heightened bat radar senses.
for tonight, there are no more bats upstairs, there is only one, swirling its way around the ceilings of the dark basement. we don’t know this, though, and every summer sound seems bat related. perhaps there are some that flutter in and out of secret holes in the walls of the attic, the bushes that line the side of the drive. at dusk we stand on the steps and see them circling over us, winging from tree to tree. what we know to be true is magnified tonight and we fancy ourselves surrounded by the flapping things that hang magically from the moulding round the tops of the walls, the edge of the mantle, the iron of the railings.
“i can’t relax until we get rid of it,” i say. “we need to go down there and hunt it. it’s probably in the boiler room where the light bulb has burned out.”
“you’re probably right,” ernie says. i shudder and twitch. “STOP DOING THAT!” ernie insists.
“I CAN’T, it’s involuntary,” i say, doing it again. “it flew through my hair, good grief!”
we close off the doors to the kitchen and head for the basement door. ernie flings it open and jumps back, racket raised. we freeze, we wait. he fumbles for the lightswitch with the racket. “use your hand — you’re making too much noise!” i hiss from the safety of the kitchen. “are you kidding me?” he asks for the fifth, sixth time.
we wait. ernie peers around the corner. “THERE IT IS!” he says and steps back. we collect ourselves. it’s hanging from a paper bag that is slightly wider than its shelf.
at this point we are savage and can only think to kill it. the opening of doors and madcap chase of the thing into the darkness and mosquito and tree of the yard is no longer an option. ernie slaps it down with the racket and it thunks onto the top step, before the landing.
we look at it. i wish we had ernie’s camera, but getting his involves stepping over the thing. we use mine. i get a plastic bag. ernie tries to shovel the thing into the bag when it twitches. and then he chokes it with the edge of the racket. it doesn’t make any noises. its teeth are bared and we are foolish and giddy and depraved as we watch it die. i twitch again. ernie bags it and throws the bag into the garage.
later i realize that ernie’s irrational fear of bats has propelled him to bring the racket to bed. in the morning, henry and jude are told the story. they reenact using a green sock as a bat.
we go to the zoo on monday. i forget to take off my sunglasses and wonder why it’s so dark in the bat-cave. the flying fox is terrifying. we imagine that his brother was swooping through our house, hanging on our paper bag, bagged and unbreathing in the trash can in our garage.
four
May 31, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
“but each day when she walks to the sea . . . “
May 25, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | 2 Comments
i could feel my coolness levels going upward as i watched this. a much needed boost. dreamy.
on a side note, are there chairs more terrific?
also worthy of comment, i think that frank’s absentminded rolling and subsequent light up (though mostly off camera) are so cool. if smoking were healthful i’d take it up. i think it’s so katharine.
henry smokes a blue bubble pipe. “only bad buys and popeye smoke, mom,” he informs me. i tell him that healthy boys don’t smoke, that smoking will turn him black inside. he is intrigued by the idea of female smokers as i remind him of a decent person we know who can barely breathe oxygen itself these days.
“the instrument? guitar. the beat? bosso nova. the artist, one of the inventors of this exciting, all new, sound: antonio carlos jobim.” (if you don’t travel the above link, sit back and sip, you’re really missing out . . . )
“but each day when she walks to the sea . . . “
May 25, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
i could feel my coolness levels going upward as i watched this. a much needed boost. dreamy.
on a side note, are there chairs more terrific?
also worthy of comment, i think that frank’s absentminded rolling and subsequent light up (though mostly off camera) are so cool. if smoking were healthful i’d take it up. i think it’s so katharine.
henry smokes a blue bubble pipe. “only bad buys and popeye smoke, mom,” he informs me. i tell him that healthy boys don’t smoke, that smoking will turn him black inside. he is intrigued by the idea of female smokers as i remind him of a decent person we know who can barely breathe oxygen itself these days.
“the instrument? guitar. the beat? bosso nova. the artist, one of the inventors of this exciting, all new, sound: antonio carlos jobim.” (if you don’t travel the above link, sit back and sip, you’re really missing out . . . )
kiddley!
May 21, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | 2 Comments
i recently came across this terrific website: kiddley, a blog whose aim is to have “every day ideas for you and your kids.” it’s full of good ideas, fun projects and activities for children of all ages, indoor and outdoor fun, books, music and gear; and is put together by folks who truly enjoy children and seem to live, as children do, on the magical side of it all.
not only are the ideas fun and inspired, the page is terrific to look at and the links given are obscure enough that you’re not saying, “yeah, i knew about that already.”
my personal favorite ideas are the five minute potato people, the storybook wall art, and the five minute do it yourself juggling balls.
check it out and enjoy!
kissing stones
May 20, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
weeks of gray and soggy rain and we’ve sun and blue again!
on a windy day we went to lakeland park and were nearly blown away. the sand and sun were making us squint and i, for one, had running eyes.
we ran to the cars and drove away to another park, the tulips park, where there was a giant sandpile of new sand waiting to be raked across the old sand, under the slides, swings, mysteriously tall monkey bars. we stayed for a long time, ernie chasing the boys up and over, jude climbing up the slippery slide by himself. it was breezy and sunny and i wanted to nap in the grass under the trees, inside the tunnel slide, along the skinny of a park bench.
as we drove away from the windyness of lakeland we came across a full family of geese. father goose watched the cars and stood near to the road while mother goose herded her wandering fluffiness into the tall breezing grass.
later we slurped popsicles on the stoop of the patio with the old refrigerator behind us. the grass was tall and henry found something dead and creepy rotting away in it. ernie took a stick and flung it into the bushes. henry was impressed.
it is common knowledge that ernie can find a four leafed clover in a clover grass if ever he chooses to look. i was looking at the clover thinking, “ernie should look for one,” and not a minute later, as though he read my mind, he looked into the green and plucked one for me within seconds. what a lucky girl am i.
birthday eggs
May 20, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
henry turns 4 (!) may 29th and jude turns 2 (!) june 6th. we’re having a pirate celebration on grandmama’s deck, which is about the size of a pirate ship itself.
the menu has yet to be planned, but we do intend to refuse silverware and insist on finger licking. hopefully there will be fruit slushage. ::hint:: i’m also trying to come up with an appropriate pinata — henry is intrigued with the idea.
does anyone know where i can find a pirate flag made of a natural (vs. synthetic) cloth and that is not overly creepy?
i’ve listed some birthday wishes on the linkage page, but thought i’d do so more officially here. it’s nice to have a variety list, rather than a specifics only list, no?
you may also notice that many of the following come from fat brain toys. although their site is crazy to look at (busy, frenetic) and their discounts are often silly (“retail: $29.00; our price: $28.95!”) i’ve only ever had terrific service from this site. i like the idea of a fat brain, too.
henry
pirate figures: which include a shark, captain hook, a cool looking mustachio with bandana; an extra captain pegleg; i’m also going to list the green dragon that is not really piratey at all but will enjoy eating the pirates all the same.
jude
variety trucks: wooden dump truck, excavator
jumbo cardboard building blocks
hours that we keep
May 15, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
incredibly, less than a week after writing about the sad demise of my original french press, kelly haynes’ dad (u.p.s. guy) skipped up my rainy day sidewalk and left the fantastic stainless steel french press for which i wished so few days ago! the student on the bench was oddly interested in the secret package. i was puzzled (”what is this? did i order something . . . ?”) in an effort to do anything but play at his lesson, the student insisted that i open the package.
and of course i did!
thank you, lydia! coffee tastes like it never has before in this thing. and it stays warm for so long that i can drink lots and lots and lots of it at my leisure. hooray!
amazing, delicious. only one greene egg, and it’s already ours!
“yonder and far over yet”
May 14, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | 5 Comments
the sky is promising rain, the day spent going from blue to white to gray, the leaves whispering, clapping to one another from the tops of the trees. i am crowded in the bed, a boy on each side. a curl of henry’s hair drifts off to sleep at the last blink of his eyes. his head rests on my arm and i imagine the count of his eyelashes, the secrets of his dreams, the stretching and lengthening of his arms and legs. on the other side, jude is still nursing, his hands doing a restless twist on my belly. his knees are pulled up close to me and i can hear the deep breathing of sleep as he winks, blinks, nods.
these boys, these flashes of eternity that sleep beside me, they smell of the bath, of mother milk, of transluscent baby skin and silken, shining hair. the trees on the other side of the glass are tapping at us, the wind pulling them up and over in large swallows. i feel my entire person swell with the squall outside. i’m afraid and overjoyed all at once. who am i to be their mother? to be the caretaker of their bodies, their spirits, their lives as they learn to live and fulfil the chief end of man? i linger in the bed, praying over them, praying for mercy on their souls, for the love of Jesus to overwhelm them. i repent of my own failings this day, for not listening, for letting my tongue spew out unkindness, for not teaching them with gentle hands, for requiring these boys to keep the Law as i myself drown in the Grace.
i am the mother given to them, it was destined to be this way, no matter the inability i feel. from the first mysterious twinklings felt in the beginning, when my clothes weren’t fitting anymore, when they were tight in places i didn’t expect, i knew myself to be inadequate. worried, i would lie in the bed feeling the sickness, the churning in my stomach flinging waves upward. this baby was somewhere below all of that motion, an ocean of acidic swirlings over his head. the baby was tiny, near microscopic. i was glad, satisfied, as i imagined him in shades of pink and red, his eyes beginning to take shape, his fingerprints cobwebbing his own identity, his legs exchanging their kicking for floating as he listened for the first time to the beating of my heart.
henry was born and before he did much else, he stared at this mama, boring holes into the bluest streaking of my eyes with his own black pools. he was a big baby, even people who love me hurt me with their endless words about the largeness of henry. regardless, he was a tiny bundle to me, and the summer after his birth was spent sniffing his head, whispering wishes into his ears, crying over the terrifying peaks of responsibility that were housed in the little person sleeping, nursing, crying, staring upward at me; laughing in spite of myself at the herioc felicity motherhood had brought to me.
jude came later, a brother for henry. it was hot that night, the humidity lapping at us with a long sticky tongue. the rain spat out a warning. i rode in the car and i knew that something was wrong. jude came too early. there was blood and emergency. the indian doctor who was there as a precaution came near to my face, near enough to kiss, with his brown wrinkled forehead, his large glasses, his waving black hair. he reassured me that all was well and i could only cry. my tears, tornadic, hesitant, relieved, were confused, cognisant of the frailty of human life, that life itself is a true gift that cannot be purchased, can only be given. again i felt overwhelmed, unable, strangely joyous. how will i pass this on to these children? how will i ever communicate to them that the human life is a gift, and that, beyond the gift of humanity, is the eternal gift of life through Grace?
i know myself to be inadequate, fearful; i know myself to be strong and invincible. perhaps it’s a part of the Mercy, to feel weak and strong all at once in order that we persevere. is this a manifestation of power being made perfect in weakness? is this the increase of strength given to those who are faint and weary? is this why i can love being a mother? is this why i can wake up in the morning with more love for the thick and thin of it than i had yesterday?
the boys lie still in the bed, dreams have overtaken them for now. soon they’ll be awake again and move with electric carbonation. abnormally beautiful indeed.