Hand, Berkeley, CA.
Archive | March, 2008
Peanut’s eye view
Sister looms large. Pace setter, lead dog. “This way!” “Like this!”
Not for ever, but surely for now.
Not such a bad gig, so long as it lasts. For either of them.
Or so it seems.
Hair today, gone tomorrow
The girlie must have been watching Britney Spears on YouTube behind my back. I give you Exhibit A, below, right: what the lil’ monkey hath wrought, aided and abetted by her artsy crafty scissors. Yes, that’s her hair. Correction, was her hair.
I didn’t freak out after her first bout with the shears. That is, after I knew what had happened. I’d been distracted by feeding her brother, and went to check in on her at her “art table,” where a suspicious quiet had fallen. I asked her how she was doing, and lovingly began to pet her head, when her hair began to come out in clumps in my hands.
Quite naturally I was spooked. “Yegods! Cancer?!! Chemical attack?!! Homespun curse from a grudge-bearing preschool enemy?!! Dammit, girl, would it kill you to share the Polly Pocket Dolls?!! Look what happens!!” Then I saw her scissors on her art table, and some tell-tale evidence in the way of yet more hair.
A lesson from my nephew
E.U.P. • February 27, 1995 — March 24, 2005.
Muted backstory here (towards the end). Care for musical accompaniment? Reader Chumpy posted this link to Joby Talbot’s “Cumulonimbus” the other day, which conveys, at least to me, a sense of grateful wonder, of “a bride married to amazement.”
“When Death Comes”
by Mary Oliver
from New and Selected Poems
Fortune Friday
“You are a bundle of energy, always on the go.”
This fortune should have gone to the lil’ peanut, rather than the Baba, who is an Object At Rest Trying Valiantly, Against All Odds, To Stay At Rest. If I had a personalized license plate, it would read: I [heart] NRTIA. (Which inspires a digression: in California, for some time now, licence plates have included cutsie symbols like hearts and hands. And of course upon first seeing one, my immediate thought was, How does a serious California Highway Patrol officer phone in one of these? When they get to the “heart” part? And still sound butch enough?)
The lil’ peanut was a bundle of energy last night, always on the go, all the way up until around about 3:30am, when we finally left Children’s Hospital. Kindly medical professionals there tanked him up on oxygen, albuterol, and steroids yet again (we’ve been there once before; if you don’t have the time or inclination to peruse that short post, the key take-home image is this one, depicting what I fear to be the inevitable result of his youthful intake of steroids).
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Forgot the “G”
Wish the omission in the packing/to do list title was a joke. Like I wish the level at which my brain functions these days was a joke. Alas, it is not.
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