Saying yes...

Behold! The Snagradish!!!

Today my youngest lamblet was pulling out the last of the radishes. The radish seeds went into the ground pretty late and we were lax when it came to plucking them so I know these babies are going to be HOT! They're not horseradishes, but still... I think they're a radish even James Wolcott would be proud of.

Today, my youngest lamblet pulled out a number of root vegetables that looked like radishes... and then she pulled out this! This was no mere radish... Grizzled said it was most likely a radish that had not be properly hybridized. He then launched off on the history of hybridization and its roots. Well, apparently one of its roots looks like THAT!

I had a feeling what it was. A turnip you ask? No... Not even a beet. It could only be one thing... A Snagradish!!! A radish for the man who can eat anything AND DOES!

I've often wondered about the legitimacy of the Snagradish, tempted to lump it in with unicorns and ogres, but now I've seen it. My eyes have beheld the Snagradish and there's no going back.

Now... now, I just have one more question... will it be delicious or disgusting???

Meme from Mannion (not to be confused with The Girl From Ipanema)

I am one of Lance Mannion's latest victims. I am suppose to divulge 8 interesting or random facts about myself. I am then suppose to pass this puppy on to 8 more unsuspecting people. I was going to give myself time to think about 8 interesting facts, but then realized I had better just put anything up before all people of the blogosphere have been tagged and there are none left!! I suppose this feeling, the need to follow the rules EXACTLY, is one of my random facts.

1) I have some inner-voice, possibly the voice of any of my parochial school teachers, that tells me if I don't follow the rules exactly, some cosmic ax will fall down upon me and say, "Gotcha!!!" This will be followed by a scary, "Mooowaahahhahhaaa!!!" emanating from the clouds.

2) I had a twin (fraternal). My twin ceased to develop and died in utero. My mother and her doctors were not aware there was a twin in the picture until I was born and so was my semi-developed twin. I attribute my feelings of needing to do things alone to the fact that my twin didn't go along for the ride.

3) I hate afternoons. I have never liked them. They are usually filled with tension. The freshness of the morning is gone and the relief and fun of the evening is not yet upon me. I was born at 5:55pm and often wonder if ones least favorite time of day corresponds with the time preceding their birth. There's a lot of tension preceding birth...

4) I hate having my thumbs held. Don't know why... just don't do it.

5) While we're on the topic of digits, I have very dexterous toes. I suppose some of this comes from being asked in high school to spend a week drawing with my feet. I can isolate all toes, can wave with my pinkie toe and can also do the Vulcan greeting with both feet! Woo-hoo! I have not included that on my resume.

6) I flunked out of college on purpose. Looking back, I see how I could have approached things differently, but I don't regret it. I probably learned more from taking the year off and then having to talk my way back in. I lived alone for the first time, met my favorite professor, and did indeed finish.

7) I went through the Second CIty Conservatory Program... pregnant. The conservatory program is a 2 year program of improv. Somewhere during that time, I improvised a pregnancy. I chose to stay in and finish. I did my level 5 shows in my 9th month and only missed my last show due to the fact that I was giving birth to my oldest lamblet.

Apparently no other pregnant women has stayed in the program. They made me sign a waiver saying I would not hold Second City responsible if anything happened to me or my babe. I signed and added that they could not take credit if I gave birth to a comedic genius.

8) I anthropomorphize (can I use that as a verb or is the Cosmic Axe about to fall??) almost everything. If you look at my doodles, there are faces on everything along with names and back stories.

Okay, wasn't that fun! Now it's time to share!!! I tag the following:

Mr. Uncanny Canadian of Three Bulls!
Mr. Snagtacular over at Befouled
Mr. Brando, creator of the Clan Brando Ham, sure to be a Christmas tradition!
Ms. Idyllopus over at "meanwhile back at the ranch".
Ms. Kathleen over at dilettante.
Mr. Chuckles over at Freelance Genius.
He/She/It/Bird... aka plover, also from Three Bulls! One can dream can't one??? Hmmmm?
And last, but certainly not least... I'm just not sure if she'll want to, but I hope she does... Ms. Mary Jane over at Touching the River.

Okay, here are the rules:  Eight random or interesting facts about yourself.  Send me the link to your post when you're done.  Tag 8 more people.  Drop a comment on their blog to let them know they've been tagged. 

I hope I followed all of the rules!

Correction: I hope *DR* UC will accept my humble apologies for referring to him as a mere Mr. I know he's no mere Mr... just forgot he was also a Dr.

As for AG, alpha llama of RoD- I would have gladly asked AG a million questions, she's always kind enough to answer, but knew she had just answered the questions I had up the other day. I also assumed Snag would tag her since she's such a loyal visitor.

 

Shhhhhh!! The troops might hear you!!!

Sen. Richard Lugar spoke out yesterday saying he felt *The Surge* was not working. Today, Sen. Lindsey Graham said that although he respects Sen. Lugar, he felt it was unwise to say that, it could undermine the morale of the troops.

This tippy toeing around when it comes to supporting the troops reminds me of how so many people deal with children these days. Never, ever point out that they might be following a bad decision. No, just keep on saying good job! It doesn’t matter if your child can’t swim and is in the middle of the pool flailing madly. Don’t throw in a flotation device and save them! That might hurt their feelings and damage their self-esteem!  No, instead, just shout, “GOOD JOB!” and support that child!

You know what? I hope if I’m ever up to my ass in a quagmire of unending chaos that someone has the decency to look at me and say, “This is not working, you need a new direction. Let me lend you some help.” My morale will not be undermined. I’ll probably be too busy saying thank you.

lots of thoughts not coming out in words

Oops- number 2 was supposed to be a tradition you would keep while number 3 was one you would not. Or at least I think that was what I meant. I need to remember not to post before coffee has been had.

There's a lot going on right now. I've started about 5 posts, but they don't seem to be holding my interest or aren't coming to any conclusion that makes sense so a blogging friend suggested I ask some more questions. I had sent him my latest batch when he said those would be good to put up on the site. As I've said before, I love asking questions, but not as much as I love hearing the answers.

Answer some, answer none, answer all. This post is now in your hands.

1) What is a favorite childhood memory?
2) What is a favorite childhood tradition that you did not pass on to your children if you have them or did not keep for yourself.
3) What is a childhood tradition that you would in no way keep or pass on?
4) Do you prefer the company of people or the company of yourself?
5) I absolutely hate all of the thistles popping up in our yard, but I love the 8 million goldfinches they bring. What presence do you curse yet forgive because of its end results?
6) What thing  do you most want to do this summer that you most likely won't do?
7) If your home had a name, or does have a name, what would it be or what is it? It's getting very summery here... Grizzled and I tend to refer to our home as "Steeping Pooch".
8) Which do you feel more like doing on any given day? Screaming or laughing?
9) What scares you?
10)  How many vehicles generally respond to an average "there's a dead body in my house" 911 call? I used to think it was 3... the  police car, the fire truck, the ambulance. Last Thursday night, those showed up at our neighbors, followed by one more fire truck and 4 more police cars... body was removed... it was the grandma. Photos were taken, bags were removed. The neighbors, whom we refer to as The Scurriers, aren't saying much other than, "Grandma died". I can't shake the feeling that it wasn't so simple.

My work is done... answer away!

Google WABAC

Idyllopus has a post up today that includes a link to an image from the Google Maps Street View. It shows a man crossing a Las Vegas street, case under his arm. She's wondering what his story might be.

Although I hate the thought of being spied on, I have to say the street view option is intriguing for me. What an interesting way to see what's going on in the rest of the world.

I wish there was a Google Maps Street View with a WABAC option. By that, I don't mean actually traveling back, but that the Street View could offer the locale of your choice during any period of time. You could enter your grandparents' address, enter the year you chose and poof, there are pictures of the front of their house and whoever might happen to be in front of it. I'd never leave the computer.

There are many times when I wish trees were recording devices. I wish there were some way to *play* a tree, someway to have an audio/video connection that you could insert into your TV. Trees are long-lived. It would be interesting to play back what they've seen over their lifespan.

Corn on the brain

I was telling someone yesterday that I felt like I should put up a post, but I had no idea what to write about. Nothing was holding my attention... except the thought of painting a cornfield. That has been stuck in my head for about 5 days now. I then launched off onto why I wanted to paint this cornfield. The person I was explaining this to suggested I write about that.

Yes, that is the main thing that's been in my head. I want to paint a close-up of a cornfield… that green up against the blue/white sky. Sounds “corny”, but I can see it in my head. I can feel it. It’s not so much the cornfield per se, not the folk art cornfield, but all that’s going on with the leaves and the colors. I’ve had that stuck in my head along with a voice saying, “If you paint it, they will come.” Okay, okay, there's been no voice...

I wish, wish, wish, I could accurately paint the space between the plants. There are indeed worlds in those spaces. The colors are so different, the atmosphere is different. It’s like a tiny little environment in between the plants, the leaves. I wish I could paint that feeling and what my eyes see or what they see and make my brain feel. I don’t know if Winsor & Newton makes that color. “I’d like a tube of Titanium White and a tube of Between the Plants”.

Most everyone assumes the positive space is the exciting stuff, but really, a lot of the action is in the negative. It’s in the spaces. There are worlds in the spaces. I wish I could paint those worlds.

Compassion

If you look up compassion in the dictionary, you will see the following definition: Deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with the wish to relieve it.

I have felt compassion for as long as I can remember (I assume this is a normal state). I can think of numerous ways I felt it as a young child. I am one who is blessed or cursed, depending on your point of view, with compassion. I don’t care to see pain, see unease, or see inequity. The first really stellar moment I can remember (not counting birds, or rabbits, or dogs) was when my family moved into our new house. My parents were able to build the house of their choosing on a lot of their choosing back when I was 3. We went over there numerous times while the project was going on and moved in before it was over. The finish carpenter came for quite awhile after we were there or so I remember. One memory that will always stick in my mind and in the mind of my parents was me being so upset that Red, our finish carpenter, was eating his lunch in the garage, a mere 7 feet away, while we were eating our lunch at the kitchen table. I didn’t understand and could not bear the thought of this man eating alone while all 7 of us were eating together. My mother was kind enough to pack me a lunch and Red was kind enough to have me as a lunch partner. We ate lunch in the garage, sitting on 2x4’s for as long as it took him to finish his job.

It was pointed out to me years later that Red probably preferred this time alone and didn’t necessarily need a talkative almost 4-yr old sitting with him. I also know my parents, and my parents were never known to exclude anyone, even to a fault, so I can't imagine that they were purposefully alienating Red. Anyhow, I only hope that Red knew my purpose whether needed or not. He was in my compassionate scopes and I needed to act.

Compassion has never left me and I am lucky in that I married a compassionate man and seem to have had compassionate children. Compassion tends to be my default. I can have a nasty ego, I can have a needy ego, but if I see someone in pain or someone struggling, my first instinct is to help, to listen, to be there.

I have also learned over time that this can bite you in the ass. Still… I don’t want to give up my ways. I prefer to know that I will be there if someone needs help, if someone needs an ear, if someone just needs someone to acknowledge that they’re here and that their gripe is valid. I would rather live like that. It doesn’t always make life easier though…

I’m taking a break. It may only be for a day… it may be for a week. Who knows.

My yard

Grizzled left early, the lamblets are still asleep. I grabbed my cup of coffee and turned on the news. It's a bad routine I've once again fallen into, feeling that I need to know what's happening the second it happens. There was no new news, or no news I needed to hear. I took my coffee out into the yard. With the exception of the birds, it's was relatively quiet. I sat and took it all in. It made me think of a Thoreau quote:

"We could not help contrasting the equanimity of Nature with the bustle and impatience of man. His words and actions presume always a crisis near at hand, but she is forever silent and unpretending."

Thar be birds!

Our yard gets quite a lot of bird action. I don't know if that's because we don't use many chemicals or if it's because we plant a lot of bird-friendly plants along with putting out bird food, or if it just because they feel my animule luv. They know our yard is a relatively safe haven for critters... EVEN the onslaught of rabbits, eating their way through our garden.

A few weeks ago, while Grizzled was trimming some hedges, I noticed a nesting cardinal. The cardinal was lucky in that Grizzled stopped short of hacking right through the nest. I was curious if the bird would stay, now being more or less exposed, but she stayed. Maybe it was too late to move, maybe she was used to us, the nest is mere feet from our patio table, maybe she felt she was still camouflaged. Who knows. Whatever the case, she stayed. Most of the time the only obvious sign was her bright orange beak.

I watched, I read, I asked around, brushing up on my cardinal knowledge. Apparently in the beginning stages of her nesting, the male will bring her breakfast, lunch and dinner in bed. At some point after the new babes have hatched, he then feeds her and the babes. I caught this in action, one time being so close I could watch her as she was calling and could see him at the other end of the yard, hunting for a bite to eat. As he moved closer, her calls changed. They went from being what sounds like a normal cardinal call to more of a whimper followed by a soft gargling noise. I don't know if she was telling him to hurry up or was soothing her hungry babes.

Yesterday, she left her nest. She returned, but her leaving the nest meant that the babes were getting bigger and now both she and her mate would be feeding them. The nest is about 8-10 inches above my head and still has some branches blocking it's view. Even though I can see the female when she is on the nest, I can't see down into the nest. I have resisted standing on something next to it to look down to see. I have resisted sticking in my large, obsolete digital camera that would no doubt scare whatever was in its path. It's too large anyhow. I couldn't get it in between the cluster of branches. 

It dawned on me yesterday that I have a camera in my cell phone. I rarely use my cell phone (I have it for emergencies) so I rarely use the camera, but yesterday I realized a little cell phone could be held up above the nest and could document the interior of the nest. I could appease my curiosity. I could see what was in there. I had no way of lining up a shot. I had no way to judge focal length, etc. I had to put the phone in where I thought I might get a shot, where I wouldn't move any of the branches, click and then leave.

This is what I got!!! Two baby cardinals waiting for something to eat. It's blurry, but there's no mistaking those gaping maws. Those babes are hungry!

The mother later returned and got back into the nest. I was relieved. I was hoping my curiosity had not taken me too close.

Happy Birthday, Youngest Lamblet!

At 3:13am (neither of my lamblets arrived during humane hours) my youngest lamblet turned 7! 7, as I recall, is an excellent year! There are days when I still feel 7. It's hard to imagine that my youngest is 7.

This photo was actually taken a few years ago, but that's still my lamblet... full of excitement, ready for action. She's my wild child. She's the lamblet who when asked by a preschool teacher what she wanted to be when she grew up, responded, "A pirate! Arg!"

Happy Birthday, Miss Monkey!