Hey Thundra... I haven't been fast enough to get any butterfly money shots this week, but I did manage to score a bird... a <i>gold</i>finch to be exact! It might even be a Goldline Finch! The photo's not the best... but I was trying to work fast before the birdie flew away. Tripping on the patio chair didn't help.
A brief, breaking news update... there are two little skipper moths doing the dance o' love right outside my window. Unfortunately, I'm looking through a screen and know trying to photograph it would be pointless. Besides, they respect my privacy, so I'll respect theirs.
Update on the update... the moths have moved on, but the butterflies have moved back in. You know, I have plenty of Lantana in my yard, but do they go for that? Nooooo. The go for the zinnias. Always the zinnias.
I ordered the EL a pair of shoes yesterday. One of her pairs of dance shoes was kaput and Zappos happened to carry the ones she needed. I ordered late in the day, but still got notice that they'd be here today. In less than 24 hrs. the shoes would be in our house. Instant shopping gratification without having to leave your home comes ever closer to being a reality...
The lamblets always squeak with glee when a package comes to the door. There's always a chance it's for them. I'm still undecided whether a shorter waiting time makes delivery any less exciting. The thought of waiting for a package had me thinking back to the days of "will arrive in 6-8 weeks". I remember ordering things from the back of cereal boxes when I was a kid. They always took 6-8 weeks. My Banana Splits Fan Club membership took 6-8 weeks. The sea horses I ordered in the 5th grade took 6-8 weeks. Instead of writing 6-8 weeks, they should have just said, "May take what feels like an eternity and will not arrive until you've forgotten you ordered... and you usually won't forget until week 5! If you have not forgotten by week 5, count on waiting the full 8 weeks!"
I swear though, I always remembered on the day those items came. There was something different. At some point during the day, your memory clicked in and you knew it was coming. You knew that opening the mailbox that day would not be frustrating, it would be there.
Yeah, sometimes the waiting is nice... but there's also something to be said for almost instant gratification. She typed as the sound of the UPS truck echoed up the street.
The school buses are running their practice routes today. Upon hearing a bus approach, BOTH dogs run to the window, see the bus, run past the lamblets sitting on the couch, over to the front door, where they both now sit in whiny anticipation for the lamblets to come home...
The Youngest Lamblet (yes... youngest of two... :-P) asked us sometime in spring if we would plant cauliflower for her. Grizzled said sure, he'd give it a go... even though he wasn't sure if we'd have success since cauliflower is kind of finicky as vegetable plants go.
I can't say that I'd ever seen a cauliflower plant before and I expected it to be somewhat like cabbage... a low, squat nest of leaves holding the beloved veggie. It's anything but low... and it's got the most awesome color. While the rest of the veggie plants are more or less a bright yellow-green, the cauliflower is a smokey blue-green-gray... and better yet, it's got this awesome texture that reminds me of a silk. I can't decide if it's peau de soie, or dupioni, or maybe even a shantung, but it's definitely silk. It's got this iridescence and "pearlescence" going for it that is gorgeous... and it's kind of puckered. It looks like a piece of silk that has gotten wet in places and is poofing and puckering just a tad. This photo doesn't do it justice. While you can see the color and the puckering, it almost looks more like latex in this image and not like silk. In person, it looks very much like you should be able to touch it and have it feel like fabric.
I can't stop looking at it... many times a day... in varying lights. In fact, I think I heard one of the lamblets the other day telling their father when he asked where I was, "I think she's out looking at the cauliflower again, Dad."
I love looking at all of it... even though we came back to a gardens taken over by weeds, it's all so wonderful at this time of year... the colors, the contrast, the textures. It's crack for visual circuits. And as if that's not enough... it draws wonderful butterflies, birds and other flying things. I have a patch of zinnias that is a magnet for butterflies, bees, moths and goldfinches. The goldfinches love to beat the crap out of them... plucking petals willy-nilly, but I don't care... seeing half a dozen goldfinches frolicking on the fleurs is more than enough payback for them ripping them up.
I tried to get a shot of them for thundra, but was not fast enough. I did get a lovely bumblebee and a moth. Woo-hoo! Even a moth seems over the top at this time of year.
"She's out looking at moths, but she looks happy, so don't harsh her mellow."
I’m going through relationship issues right
now. A very good and solid friend is changing and I feel betrayed. The support
I have always counted on isn’t there as much. I try to put on a good face and
act as though things are the same, but deep down, I know they’re not. This
relationship has been one of the longest and best relationships in my life.
Yes, it has caused me grief, but those times were usually caused by my own stupid
actions or the crazy actions of someone else… until now… now it’s the other
that is changing and I’m having a hard time going along with it. It was
something I never thought would be asked of me. It was one of those areas where
I confidently checked off “insecurity in this area does not pertain to you”.
I’m talking about my hair. The one body “part”
I’ve never questioned or needed to make peace with… unlike say my nose or my butt
or my thighs. My thighs and I came to some mutual understanding long ago… live
and let live. We’ll never be best friends, but we can be neighbors. We’re there
for each other more or less, just don’t expect the world. I missed their calling to be a speed skater and they missed my need for them to be the
thighs of someone who wanted to wear Audrey Hepburn pants.
My hair did not miss my needs. Instead it was
as if it understood that we all need one random thing that we take pride in and don’t
question. I was one of the follicley-blessed, coming from a family of the same.
Bad hair would never be my cross to bear. I had hair that was bountiful and
noticed. I didn’t have to do much too it, it was just there… working its magic.
I could retire if I had gotten a nickel for every time I got a hair comment. At
times the attention did cause me trouble in that stylists loved to cut it (this is a fate not reserved for females alone). I
cringed when I’d hear the oft mentioned words, “Your hair is so fun to cut!!!’
Those words meant I’d be leaving with a style that was way too short, way too
layered, way too ugly… The fear of hearing those words just one more time
caused me to cut my own hair for over 10 years… I’d rather be angry at myself with
money in my pocket instead of having paid an “expert” to butcher me or give me “face
ends” (think hair bookends on your face) one more time…
I cried for a month in the mid 90's when a new stylist thought I'd look good as Jon Bon Jovi circa '84. Even Grizzled couldn't lie to me after that one. I came home to hear him say, "What in the hell happened??!"
My hair and I did have occasional issues… at
some point in my mid-20’s, it decided it preferred to be brown. I’ll never
forget going to the DMV and having the lady inform me I was not a blonde.
What?? But I’d been one all my life?? What do you mean I’m not a blonde?? Well,
that was easy enough to resolve… enter the phase of changing colors… Highlights
were my gateway drug into full blown color changes. I abused my hair, but it
still stood by me… letting me get away with things it shouldn’t have. It should
have broken off and run, but it didn’t. It was there for me. Yes, it’s gone
through its changes and I’ve put it through its changes. It’s changed its color
and I’ve changed its color. It’s changed its texture and I’ve changed its
texture. Having children left it even darker and somewhat wavy. It was ok. It
And then a few years ago it started to change
in ways I didn’t even really realize. Gray, while once only a rare and amusing
strand, was becoming more plentiful. This irked me as I was often told I had my
mother’s hair and my mother didn’t start graying until her late 50’s! It also
started taking on some mutant texture thing that felt more like a bad roll of monofilament
line. What was this?? What were these freakish wavy, not wavy, course hairs with little shine??
The worst though has been its thinning… something everyone else swears they can’t
tell, but I can. I know it’s happening. Grizzled informs me that I still have 80%
more hair than the rest of the population, but still... it’s not the same. I’ve
checked into why it’s thinning.. is it a thyroid thing, is it some other physical
issue?? No… apparently not. Other than a low levelof vitamin D, there is no reason my hair
should be thinning… other than I’m getting older. I seem to recall reading somewhere that a woman's hair should not promise a fecundity that her ovaries cannot support. While my ovaries have not retired... I have to be honest that the other end of the journey is more in my sites. Of course my mother is 81 and still has a butt load of hair, her fecundity
long gone… and I’m supposed to have gotten her hair… apparently she’s not done
with hers yet. Hmmf!
These days I find myself obsessed with hair…
looking at everyone’s hair, trying to guess their ages, their hair truths and
lies. One thing I’ve realized is that women past a certain age do not have that
hair of their youth… even if I thought they did. Upon closer inspection, it’s
true… even of those I’ve been looking at everyday, those people who I would have
sworn that their hair had not changed… it has. It’s not as naturally thick, shiny,
bouncy, whatever… Hair ages… just like the rest of us. I guess I just didn’t
expect it so soon (or ever). I guess I thought it would be my security blanket
for a decade, or two, or three longer. I didn’t think it would change as
drastically as I feel it has. It does. It only takes one look at my lamblets' hair to know that. It’s just not discussed, but probably
should be, along with the fact that childbirth, no matter how natural… can
cause a bit of what some might call… TRAUMA! It’s one of those things that is
not really talked about, but instead is assumed everyone will figure out when they cross that road for themselves.
Yes, one day, the woman that you always knew with the
thick, luxurious, bulletproof hair, will suddenly show up with a thin, blue-tinted
poodle do... let's just hope you're not looking in the mirror when she does.
One of my nieces is guest-blogging for Fred Flare. Take a look here. Her challenge? To assemble outfits based on cartoon characters... she must also include a piece of Fred Flare finery. Any suggestions? Who would you dress like if you could? I was awfully fond of Penelope Pitstop when I was a kid...