Saturday, May 30, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
I saw the film version of Kate DiCamillo’s, The Tale of Despereaux last night.
Quite frankly, it stinks.
Parents, please, please, please READ this wonderful tale to your children before they watch the movie. The book is soooo much richer. The stories of the three wayward heroes entwine in such an intriguing way, it leaves the reader breathless and wanting more.
I read Despereaux in 2003, when it was first published. I absolutely loved it! I was not surprised when it won the Newberry Medal later that same year. It is extremely clever and cute. A good read-aloud for all ages. A good read-alone too (for us loners).
So, I reiterate, never judge a book by its movie.
I urge you all to let your mind’s eye splurge in the fantasy and enjoy what the author truly wanted to offer.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
I’ve often wondered, considered, and observed myself with my animals (and most animals). I am always happy to see them (unless of course, they did something naughty), and greet them with joy and enthusiasm. “Molly! How’s my pretty Molly today?” “Pearl! Hi Pearl! Where’ve you been? I’ve missed you.” And always give them a pat, a smile and a loving hug.
I am genuinely happy to see them.
On the other hand, with my people, it’s not the same. I’m quiet and reserved. They are lucky if they get a hello and a smile, especially my own family. What's with that? Gotta try to work on that.
Just think, to be that enthusiastic with all people. My mom was somewhat like that—and everybody loved her! Gee, would you think? Mr. Man’s somewhat like that too. I like that.
So this morning, I open a forwarded email with the following message… I had seen this before, and found it poignantly true, but wasn’t considering it when I was writing yesterday.
So to reinforce the message…
Then the email went on with these wonderful words of dog wisdom…
Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish
Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.
I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.
As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.
The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker 's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if
he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.
The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, “I know why."
Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation.
He said, “People are born so that they can learn how to live a good Life -- like loving
everybody all the time and being nice, right?” The Six-year-old continued, “Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long.”
- So live like a dog:
- Live simply.
- Love generously.
- Care deeply.
- Speak kindly.
Remember, if a dog were the teacher you would learn things like:
- When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.
- Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.
- Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.
- Take naps.
- Stretch before rising.
- Run, romp, and play daily.
- Thrive on attention and let people touch you.
- Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.
- On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.
- On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.
- When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.
- Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.
- Be loyal.
- Never pretend to be something/one you're not.
- If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it. (Not sure about this one?
- When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by, and nuzzle them gently.
- ENJOY EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY…
I challenge us all to START NOW!
Hooray for today!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
How do they find me? It’s like I have a neon sign flashing overhead…
Not that weirdoes aren’t wonderful. For the most part – they are the best! I guess we just attract like-kinds.
Without a different sort of mindset one cannot be weird… what the heck is normal, anyway? Normal sees as normal does. What is weird?
The wonderful thing about weirdoes
is weirdoes are wonderful things.
They talk in circles and riddles, about living and loving they sing.
The wonder, wander,
fooling in the their fun.
But the most
wonderful thing about weirdoes
Is I’m the weirdest one!
* * *
I'm not sure to whom I am referring, but I have a pretty good idea. :-/
I think the best part about finding old journals is seeing all the cool drawings and doodles that I did.
Friday, May 1, 2009
I can write about Max’s new tattoo! Yeah, I guess, the world needs to see my son, Max’s new tattoo, and read all my wonderful words of wisdom that go with it. Oh, and maybe, just maybe I can take a picture of the drawing I did several years ago of the very same tattoo subject and show it too!
Okay, World, "Can you tattoo?"
I think tattoos are only good for identifying your pet. I’m not in the school of thought that we should use our bodies… our skins, as canvases (unless of course you can wash it off). My parents or grandparents didn’t have tattoos. My children’s parents are tattoo-free. Why oh why, do my kids insist on graffiting themselves? They’ve asked since their tweens if they could get one. My stock answer was, “NO!”
Then I always followed with, “When you are old enough to move out, you do anything you like, but not while you’re living with me.”
Like my kids listen. Uh-huh. Sigh.
I tried to find photos of what happens to tattoos as you get older. How they get distorted, and how skin stretches, sags, and thins in the later years, but alas, nothing good enough in tired tattoo department. But I found some pretty ugly pictures that I’m choosing NOT to post here. I’ll let you Google them for yourselves.
Those of us who are a bit older, know what happens to aging bodies. "Come on," I try to tell the kids, "imagine grandma (whose at one time svelte, beautifully tattooed body glistened with artistic sexuality) on a hot day (did she really need that tattoo?). So now she’s 80-something in her sleeveless tent, house dress. Her great sagging underarms wobbling in the afternoon sun, The etched words, “Blonde Bombshell” seemingly melt down to her elbow while she serves you up another helping of the most fattening food ever. 'Eat!,' she demands, 'You’re too thin! Your tattoo needs to plump up! See what happens when you let yourself go?' and she holds up her arm Popeye style, except the flesh is hanging down to here!” I say pointing at my knee.
No… please, don’t imagine it. Forget I even mentioned it. Sorry.
But my kids didn't get the vision and did it anyway behind my back. (Yeah, like I wouldn’t notice.)
First Max got a tattoo on his forearm, a simple but noticeable black star with a red border about the size of a 50-cent piece. Pretty ugly. Then, God only knows what he was thinking, he had the number 13 penned on his elbow. Okay.
Then about six months ago, Roxzi got a fancy one across the bottom of her back that says, “Let the Good Times Roll” in large, swirly script lettering. I kept asking her about it, and she’d tell me, “It’s just temporary, Mom. Don’t worry about it.” But after a while, and I know the kid bathes regularly, I figured it out. (I’m smart like that.) [choke]
He decided to have the star covered up and this is what he got…
Actually, as a work of art, it’s pretty dang good. Max said the guy did it freehand while looking at a photo. And you can’t even see the star in there that’s hidden in the base and the rocks.
I do give Max credit for picking the subject matter too… it could have been a lot worse.
So… upon seeing that, I was motivated to dig out a pen and ink sketch I did from a photo I took (while on a whale watching field trip with one of the kids) of that very same lighthouse. (Can you tell?)
So, I’m looking at his tattoo, I’m looking at my drawing… and I’m wondering if maybe… maybe… maaaybeee… I should broaden my horizons and add tattoo artist to my resume? They make pretty good money. I could display my artistic talents on walking billboards. And, just think of all the colorful characters I’d meet! Um..
I’ll stick to keeping my ink on paper, thank you very much, and hang my art on the wall, not on someone’s epidermis.