bits of me

Surrounded by ten little girls in the 3rd-5th grade church club, I tore photos from magazines, chose words and images that appealed to me for any reason at all, glued them to construction paper while they did the same.  A "getting-to-know-you" activity when we began meeting in the fall, it worked well to give us a bit of a glimpse into each other's personalities and preferences.

I had so much fun, I made another one at home.  It's surprising how a collage can capture someone's essence.

It's not terribly grown-up of me, probably, but I wish I had a collage from each of my friends, to help me see life through their eyes, just a bit.

un-movie night

It's happening again, right now.

A week ago I found an old VHS of Chitty-Chitty Bang Bang in a thrift store, remembered enjoying it as a child, and brought it home to show to my children.

They still haven't seen it.  Each afternoon or evening that would have been just right for a movie night - it was cold and grey, or we'd been home for "x" days in a row - I've thought of hauling out the TV (which we keep on a high shelf) and VCR (which we keep in a closet) and lining up the children on the sofa to watch a slice of my childhood ... but I don't do it.

I hate to disturb them.

It's dark outside; we've eaten our supper and are planted in the living room where the fire burns hottest.  Spice is curled up on the sofa reading a Dr. Seuss biography from the library.  Sugar plays Colorku, a beautiful wooden version of Sudoku using colored balls.  Lil' Snip is building Lego tractors under the direction of Nice (who is living up to her name instead of plaguing her brother for the pleasure of hearing him squeal).

And I just can't make myself break up all the coziness, an almost palpable sense of "we are us; we are family; we belong here together."

So the videos I bring home gather dust on the shelf, and the children ask from time to time when we're going to watch them, but they never seem to remember to ask when we could watch them .... so we don't.

And no one seems to mind.

And Sugar learns new songs on the piano,
and Lil' Snip builds a million Lego towers,
and Spice makes music on her recorder,
and Nice sings songs she made up in her head,
and Sugar teaches herself new crochet stitches from a library book,
and Nice reads the Little House series,
and Spice teaches "school" to her siblings,
and Lil' Snip drives his trucks
and the girls dress up in ballet leotards and dance "The Waking of the Spring Flowers"
and it's all too lovely to interrupt for a mere movie ...


[for more thoughts on the TV-less life, check out this blog]

well below freezing

Lately no one says "global warming."  Those who used to be enthusiasts of this theory have decided, completely at random, to call it "climate change" instead.  Weather forecasters, vying for their dramatic position among the soap operas perhaps, coin terms like "polar vortex" to make low temperatures sound like the ultimate adventure.

Basically, though, it's just cold.

So when the thermometer outside read 0 degrees this morning, naturally I mixed up some bubbles and went outside to blow.  I had seen some amazing photography of frozen bubbles, and wanted to see if I could do it, too.  {It was too windy; my bubbles floated across the road into the neighboring field.}  I had fun trying until my fingers got numb, then I took my bubble mix inside to where the children were watching me from the window, and we blew bubbles in the living room.

Spice dashed out a few times to bang the ice from the cats' water dish and re-fill it [note:  frozen plastic breaks when brought into strong contact with frozen concrete] and Sugar replaced the trash can after the garbage truck emptied it.  I took away our homemade "suet" and gave the birds the real store-bought deal, which they found within the hour.  [and friends - I'm seeing the "real" birds this winter:  titmice, juncos, red-bellied woodpeckers and downies, chickadees, even bluebirds!]

But mostly we enjoyed the sunshine from inside these old, old walls, home to crumbling insulation, mice, and ancient nutshells.  They keep out the wind, mostly, and we are grateful.

The pellet stove roars, and the younger two build complicated dwelling-places out of stools and pillows, and sisters use walkie-talkies from a room away.

And we're cozy, here, despite the drafts, extreme weather and all.