Updates and Follow Ups

So, I'm following up on some recent blog entries. Here you go, and happy, happy Friday!

When I'm not home, Cookie is on bluebird duty of the mornings. The bluebird was just as irritable during today's go 'round at the kitchen window as it was in the former entry. This time he was not baring his bird teeth, but I'm told he WAS sporting KISS makeup. I know you can't tell that by the picture. I'm sorry. You also can't tell that he is wearing a dickey with a picture of a bluejay on it. Bluebirds are really obnoxious little things, aren't they? Flagrant attitude. Hopefully, Cookie really let him have it.

Also, here is the opening of "Tijuana Christmas" and "Jingle Cats" at the recent work White Elephant Gift Exchange. I apologize for the shrieking. Danavee and I were pretty excited, and the cell phone's recording ability is just sub par. Laughing.

White Elephant Fun!

My favorite time of year (within the worst time of year... I hate the month of February. February has never done a thing to me, so I hate it unjustly. But nonetheless, I HATE February.) is coming up! White Elephant Gift Exchange Day! Are you familiar with the rules of a White Elephant Gift Exchange? Participants begin by bringing the most horrid, pathetic gifts to school on exchange day. All items are hidden inside of attractively wrapped packages so as to disguise the lame factor of the actual gifts within. Only the owners rub their hands together, sneakily, in anticipation of unloading the terrible item onto someone else. It's big fun at the place where I work. It's fun to think up the gift, wrap the gift, exchange the gift, watch the expression on the recipient's face as they unwrap the gift, and it's just plain fun to know that you won't have to be going home with that crappy, crappy gift. Of course, you do get something terrible, yourself. But that part is totally beside the point, for me.

White Elephant fun is tripled if the exchange is organized in such a way that the beautiful packages are left outside one's classroom door for the taking. It then becomes an all day affair, stealing and switching packages from their places throughout the day. One has a little more freedom to orchestrate the outcome of the event... WHO is the perfect recipient for my gift? Who would get as big of a laugh OPENING this gift as I've had while PREPARING it? Ohh... I salivate just thinking about White Elephant day.

Anyway, the big day is this week. I don't think that any more than three people from my work read this blog, and so I can't bear to keep my purchases from this website any longer. I must show off this year's Salvation Army treasures, so that you, too, can join me in the terrible gift giving hype. And the salivating.

Take a look. I have a "Christmas in February" theme this year...

My first find was an old record album that smells strongly of some person's musty attic. I don't think I need to say much about it really. Just look at the cover.

Oh, but that's not all... Tijuana Christmas comes along with the bonus holiday gift below! This year's White Elephant exchange is going to be such fun.

What's Wrong, Chair?

I have been noticing that my chair is a little down lately. It's feeling blue. I asked it why this morning. We are not on speaking terms today, apparently.

Let's think of reasons that Whitney's chair could be resentful:

*We've been together for ten years, and I've never even given it a greeting card.
*It has supported the carriage of two babies without even a "thank you."
*It is offended when Whitney doesn't actively protect it from children who abuse its fun roll-y or spinny action.
*It's heard the same chapter books year after year. Whitney's favorites always end the same way.
*It's jealous of its neighbor, the computer chair.


For the record, I'm trying to make amends with my chair. I've apologized. I've paid it special, tinkering attention - tightening knobs and yanking levers. No effect. It's still being hateful and slouchy. I don't think it's aware that hateful and slouchy chairs get replaced. Ahem...REPLACED! Did you hear me, chair?


Sigh. The silent treatment continues.

What If We Were Wrong?

Let's consider the "bluebird of happiness". A symbol of cheerfulness, uplifted thought, renewal, etc. What if we were wrong about the bluebird?

A bluebird perched himself on my windowsill this morning. Jim says it's not the first time, although today was the first time I've seen him. He sat outside my kitchen window, and at first I thought he was just a robin. I looked a little closer and suddenly noticed just how BLUE he was. He turned slightly and I saw his rusty red chest. I smiled! "This is rare!" I thought.

He sat there for a little while and it suddenly struck me, "Get your camera, girl!" So I did.

I snuck up and shoved my phone closer and closer to the windowsill, trying to be quiet and slow. I clicked off two pretty quick shots right in a row.

In the birdwatching process, I noticed a few different things:

He looked round and puffed up. He looked cold, and furthermore, kind of hacked off about it. I felt sorry for him, considering how confusing the weather had been lately. 60 degrees one day, snow dusted sidewalks the next. I wondered if he was sitting there on the windowsill, thinking to himself how crappy it was that nature would be jerking him around like this.

Anyway, I got two shots and he turned around suddenly and saw me. Bam! He was gone.

Ten minutes later, he was back. Same perch. I reached for my camera again in an effort to get more pictures of this "happy" little bird.

This time I noticed that he was looking down constantly, half flapping his wings every now and then as if to suggest... impatience. I tried to look down to where he was looking. Down below, on the ground, I saw his partner. A faded girl bluebird who was very busy with her chores - straw in the mouth, flying here, flying over there. All the while, he sat haughtily up on the sill. I began to get a little miffed at him. He didn't seem to like the way she was doing what she was doing. I caught myself thinking, "Just go down there and do it yourself then, man!" At the same time, I stuck my camera up to snatch another picture of him. He turned around and glared at me before he flew off. I know he did.

I think it should be the girl bluebirds that are bright and pretty, by the way.

Fifteen minutes later, I found him in a different place. Still a kitchen window perch, new window. He'd gotten wise to my ways. I grabbed my camera again.. just to irk him. This time even as my phone got within five inches of him, he was gone. I was toying with him now. I was not about to let this go.

An HOUR later, he returned to windowsill A. I again took a picture of him. He turned to look at me in disgust, his mouth partly open as if to mouth me. I smiled in triumph. He flew away.

I'm just suggesting that perhaps the symbolism of the bluebird could be way off the mark. What if we were wrong? Really, really wrong...

No Appropriate Title Possible

There's nothing like discovering an unexpected, pre-Valentine's Day gesture of romance. Cackling.

Today! Today! Today!

I've never cared much for the music of Neil Diamond. He looks greasy, and when I'm listening, I can't seem to shake the image of him singing the words. My skin crawls a little. I will switch the radio station if I hear his voice. Ironically enough, Neil's greasiness doesn't just irritate me in my car... now he's invading my workplace!

The latest craze is for the administration to blare "America" during our Monday morning assemblies. If we really examine the lyrics, this is a song about the immigrant's experience in coming to our country. So, yeah, there's an educational value in there that I'll reluctantly concede. I begin to listen with my arms folded.

At first, Neil's low, croaky voice discusses the difficult journey by land, sea, or air and motives for leaving a homeland behind. So far, I'm thinking that this song is impossible to sing to, but.... it has some kind of magic in it. I feel something. It's a phenomenon that I'll try my very best to describe here. It penetrates your skin without any real regard for whether, or not, your skin wants to be penetrated. It's a creeping infection.

The kids feel it too. They've come into the gym either groggy or wild. The energy is either completely lacking or scattered in a million and one directions. But as Neil's voice continues to belt out over the speaker, you can almost see the energy being harnessed... and even almost... focused.

The driving beat of "America" continues. The first verse gets the kids' (and adults') attention. Everyone awkwardly looks around at each other to see if what's happening to them is happening to anyone else in the room. And believe me, it is. Toes begin to tap uncontrollably. It's like watching a pebble gather speed as it falls down a mountainside.

Kids begin clapping to the beat. Adults cannot stop themselves from joining in. You may even feel your own rear end as it begins to move to and fro. It is unstoppable, joyful, musical craziness moving over the crowd.

BUT THEN.... THEN.... THE CHORUS COMES! The figurative rock is at its peak in tumbling speed. A mass of 400 people can't stop themselves from singing loudly in unison, "They're coming to America! They're coming to America! They're coming to America...... TODAY!"

I guarantee the person sitting to your left in the crowd is smiling. People are shouting at the tops of their lungs! "TODAY! TODAY! TODAY!"

For 4 minutes and 25 seconds, Monday is the best thing that ever happened to you. "America" is your favorite song, and Neil is definitely not so greasy.

He Called For His "MMM-MMM"

It's been awhile since I brushed up on my Mother Goose rhymes. Jack is elbow deep in them during his kindergarten year, and he occasionally helps me to uncover those memories that haven't quite been purged from memory. We chatted in the car today, and Jack instructed me about Ol' King Cole. A sing songy Jack says...

Ol' King Cole was a merry ol' soul

A merry ol' soul was he!

He called for his pipe

and he called for his bowl

and he called for his...

There was a pause.
A sing songy Jack tries again.

Ol' King Cole was a merry ol' soul

A merry ol' soul was he!

He called for his pipe

and he called for his bowl

and he called for his... ummm..... Mom?

Don't look at me, Jack. I'm not going to be any help here. You've gotten way further than me as it is. After the first two lines, I'm out of answers.

So he experiments. Trial and error works sometimes.

Ol' King Cole was a merry ol' soul

A merry ol' soul was he!

He called for his pipe

and he called for his bowl

and he called for his.... peglers?... three

Peglers, Jack? Do you think that's it? He apparently decides to try again.

Ol' King Cole was a merry ol' soul
A merry ol' soul was he!
He called for his pipe
and he called for his bowl
and he called for his brothers three

Ah, Jack! That makes more sense. Do you think it's brothers? He doesn't think so. He goes back to peglers. Jack, I don't think it's peglers. That's not a word. Could it be "peddlers?" That sounds a little like peglers.

Yes! Peddlers! That's it. That sounds more familiar, mom.

I am now proud of myself.
A sing songy Jack reviews the new ending.

and he calls for his "mmm-mmm" three!

Wait a minute, Jack. I thought you decided it was peddlers.

No, that's not it, mom. I'm saying mmm-mmm for the "mystery word" that I DON'T know. (There was some attitude there. You're not imagining it.)

Mother Goose gets dropped from the conversation for awhile. But because Jack is his mother's child, he is struck hard by a sudden and very unexpected brainstorm in the tub - three hours later.

Mom! I know it! He called for his pipe and he called for bowl, and he called for his BEGLERS three.

Jack, I just don't think that's it. I'm sorry, baby. Beglers isn't a word either.

Obviously bummed now, Ughh. Well, when I'm watching it in my mind there's these three pigs and they're playing violins. I just don't know the word. Shoulder slump.

Oh? They were playing violins? I bet the word is fiddlers. Jack! Fiddlers!

FIDDLERS! YES! IT'S FIDDLERS, MOM! (huge eyes, breathing hard, grinning ear to ear) I LOVE you, Mom.