Saying yes...

Not Skirting the Issue...

YL and I were off on errands yesterday after dropping off EL. She had completed her dance photo shoot for the upcoming recital, and EL is old enough to leave alone for hers, so YL and I were off like a prom dress. While leaving, a fellow chorus mate of YL's spied her in all of her recital finery... YL told me to make haste!!! MOVE!!! I asked her why? She explained in the car, although the chorus pal somehow signaled that she would keep this aspect of YL on the down low, YL said she did not want the dance recital fact that she occasionally wore flamboyant clothes with a hint of make-up to harsh her tomboy cred. I said people are complex... never, ever assume that what you see is all that you get... and heaven forbid it is, because it would be boring.

One of the things we were out to do while running errands was to buy YL "boy shorts". Apparently I had failed in trying to fulfill her request. I know she does not like uber-frilly stuff. Oh heck, she rarely likes frilly stuff (except for the one year when the recital called for sparkly, stretchy zebra pants... she was all over that. I told her there was a very, very small window when anyone could rock the stretchy zebra pants so now would be the time) and even though I had purchased what I viewed as tame, even gender-neutral shorts, they were not what she was expecting. What she should have said was that she wanted sports shorts. Anyhow, off we went.

On the ride home, I told her we'd have to buy her a new dress soon as she had a Daddy/Daughter function coming up and I knew she had grown enough that nothing she had would fit since she wears dresses and skirts so rarely. I then said maybe we should get a few more skirts so she could wear them if the urge hit... this was said more so to elicit a reaction than to actually suggest she needed to wear more skirts.

It did get a reaction, to which I asked if she'd wear more skirts if she found out boys liked her in them. Her response???

"Mom, if a boy doesn't like me for who I am, he's not the right boy and he can just keep on walking. Any boy who likes me will know I prefer shorts over skirts."

I sat there and soaked it in and then said, "Never forget that, OK?? And not only for boys, but for anyone... anyone who expects you to change from what you are in order for them to feel OK about who they are."

She replied, "Why would anyone do that?? Change who they really are just so someone else will be happy?? Wouldn't it just be easier to find someone who liked you for you?"

Oh yes, out of the mouths of babes...

And as I had told her earlier in the day... "People are complex... and some people will expect you to act as they wish, even if it's not who you are, and they probably won't even realize why and that it has nothing to do with you. If and when that comes up, you think of this shorts conversation, and you know it's still OK to wear the shorts, OK??"

I don't think I'll have to worry about her.

Friday the 13th Comes Early for Blogger

Bummer...

Now it seems that not only can't you comment, but posts posted in the last day or two are missing.  I never realized how many Blogger blogs I visited. I guess I'll be getting more work done today. Thanks Blogger!

These songs all fill the same spot in my head...

And I think it's the similar "chingaring" portion that happens in all of them at some point, and maybe their rhythm, and the fact that they remind me of a theme song from a show long ago (posted last).

 

Happy

These things made me happy today... and probably will for a while:

A photo discoverd from the end of last summer...

Another year of Mr. Turtle fullfilling his potential...

These will always make me happy...

This stuff, because it's just too good in a pie, plus the plant is awesome....

I found this the other morning... someone had apparently left the tape out and then made a sandwich... Pinko???

These things... that fill up all of the shady patches and give the lamblets and friends a soft place to land when going down the slide...

Even these things...

And last but not least... ending a lovely day outside with one of these...

Potting has commenced...

Sun and warmth finally found its way to us so potting has commenced. While Grizzled usually grows most bedding plants from seeds, I buy most of what of what will go into pots from the nursery. I keep thinking I wish there were a way for me to take all pots along with me so I could follow my whims without buying first. I keep thinking I should keep better track of what's been done in the past that I really liked, but then, even the leftovers that have been thrown together still look pretty when they're in fullbloom and scattered throughout the yard.

Grizzled is pretty patient as I'm loading up the cart, only on occasion asking why I've got 3 yellows... when he should know that I've got 3 yellows because they're different yellows, and three different types of plants... one that will trail, on that will spread, and one that will add height. Pfffft! He should know better as I usually find him adding things for the very same reason... or for the other reason... it's pretty or cute or fun.

I found a new combo for this year's "creepy pot"!! Last year had a combo of caladium and spooky coleus... and some white flower (I can't remember its name) that gives the illusion of insects hovering in and about the foliage. This year's pot will the same white flower, but will have an newer coleus that has what appears to be black in it, as well as some funky black petunias (deep, deep purple in bright, bright light). They're ominous, but fun. And on top of it, they have a scent! It's not reallly a good scent, but it's kind of an intriguing scent since you don't expect to smell asiago cheese by a petunia... it's like a child's unwashed blanket. You know the ones... the ones that no one else wants to smell, but them. The pot will be far enough away that no one has to smell it unless they really want to. Knowing a petunia dares to smell like cheese is enough for me.

 

You ask, I answer... kind of...

In my previous post, B^4 commented:

I'm more interested in flowers you hate.

Fess up!

I had to think about it. It would certainly be a shorter list than those I love... and I know there are certain flowers that are not my faves, but hate... hate's a strong word. I tried to think of flowers that caused a bad visceral reaction... while I'm impatient with impatiens, I don't hate them, I just wish they weren't so overused.

I then thought of hollyhocks, but I actually like them, it's their scent I hate. It smells like sickly sweet urine at times... I had often heard that they were used around outhouses. I thought perhaps this was so you could blame the stank on the fleurs, but why not go with something that might actually be pleasant to smell?? I then found out it had nothing to do with the sensory aspect of the outhouse, but was rather so delicate women would not have to ask something as shocking as "Where's the outhouse, I have to pee!?!?" Instead they could ask where the hollyhocks were. Mmm-hmmm...

Then I thought, there are some flowers I'd love, but the colors turn me off. While they can be pretty, I often think an old English garden needs a big blast of some color other than pastel pink, purple and blue... but big, bold colors need enough sun, which the English seem to be lacking, so I'll cut them some slack. I love pastel pink, purple and blue, but not if that's all there is. Give me a little contrasting yellow in there! Give me some complimentary colors! I love to plant pots with complimentary colors. I love, love, love yellowy greens with garnet reds. I love yellows with purple. If only there were a true blue color to go with some of the fabulous oranges. I also have one crazy bright blue pot that I fill with what I call Smartie colors... 

I also confess to sometimes planting scary pots... I went through a big caladium, scary vine stage the past couple of years. Add some equally spooky coleus and I'm there. All I needed was some ancient horned toad poking out of them!!!

But back to flowers I might hate... I also prefer single to doubles... plain to fancy. Don't trick out the flower to the point that it looks like a pom pom! Give me that subtle and beautiful row of gentle petals... Don't fringe the end of the tulip! Don't make my zinnia look like a dahlia! If I want a dahlia, I'll plant one! A dahlia is great as a dahlia, but not if it's really a zinnia. It's ok to make the zinnia look like a Brach's peppermint disc though... that's kind of fun. :) Tricking out with colors is ok.

So there's your answer... kind of... I'm sure I'll be watching this summer though, watching for the flower that makes me growl and hiss... that makes me wonder why on earth anyone would choose it!! But most of all, I'll be looking at the fleurs with nothing but luv...

Any other questions?

Have at it...

This morning I started to write a post about pussy willows... I loved them as a kid. I still like them. It's pussy willow season. I can't look at them and not think of the millions of them that I wished would come to life. I was certain they were really animals. I'd break off one or two of the catkins and would tuck them in my jewelry box, on a little piece of cotton, sure they'd move at some point, or would make a sound, or something. Sometimes I left water or some grass...

Anyhow, I started to write a post about them... I Googled to find their scientific name, but Google was not giving me the goods. Every entry said "Willow". I didn't want willow... I wanted pussy willow! I knew this was a common name, not some local term that only a handful of people knew! Where in the heck were all of the entries for pussy willows?? (insert your rude joke here)

And then I saw the little notice:

The word "pussy" has been filtered from the search because Google SafeSearch is active

And then it dawned on me that I'd be making a huge mistake if I wrote about pussy willows given the general crowd that tends to hang out around here... and I'd have to listen to a million p-word jokes... and be reminded of the one night at Brando's when I dropped the p-bomb and people realized I was not just some nice mother who liked to paint, but rather a filthbot in disguise...

I still don't like the p-word, but I can ignore it if it's attached to willow... and thank gawd it's not the other p-word. Had they been panty willows, I would have hated them from the get-go!

I also just realized I wrote "low brow" in my categories instead of "lowbrow". This is my latest deal... I want to make evey thing into a compound word, except for actual compound words... those, I separate.

Until you show your birth certificate proving that you're God, you don't get to decide... OK???

EL recieves a monthly newsletter from a program she's in at school... a program for kids who scored on the upper edges of testing and who might benefit from extra activities and connections... so far the newsletters and the program has been hit or miss, but it's early. If anything, she'll be able to say she was in the program which will benefit her when trying to get into colleges.

Today's newsletter had an interview with an admissions professional at a noted university. I won't name it, but I believe Mr. Thundra went there... (Mr. Thundra will be thankful he went there then... and not now...)

In said article, the admissions person said something to the effect that she looked at all social networking when deciding if and when a person would be accepted. I'm not worried about EL. As I've often said, she was 50 when she was born and probably has more sense than most. What EL did say though was, "That's not really fair. I'm guessing that the admissions person did even more than most people do now (EL has heard rumor about freer days), but had the benefit of it not being documented!"

She had a point...

She went on to say how in this day and age, you're expected to share everything... which made me realize my generation had something over the teenagers of today. We had the safety of discretion by default. We also have failing memories on our side. I know I was more poorly behaved than EL when in high school (while still receiving stellar grades!!)... Grizzled was FAR WORSE! We just have no public record... only hazy memories which can be denied when the need arises. "Mom! So and so was an asshole!! I never did that! I mean, really! Come ON!!!"

It also had me thinking though... if Ms. Admissions did have a sketchier past, why not be more forgiving of those coming in who are too open and honest about their activities?? There's got to be a tipping point when we accept that almost anyone had a sketchier past and we get past it...  Of course, there's always one person who was more lily white, and this person is most likely your admissions officer...

So... if she did not have a sketchier past and was truly one of those few who walked the straight and narrow every time, don't you think she's probably in the minority?? And when will the minority stop getting to decide what's right for the majority?? Frankly, I'm kind of tired of it. I'm kind of tired of having what are really normal experiences and then being told I am denied access to the real world due to those experiences. Frankly, I think I live in the real world... everyone else? I'm not so sure. I think they might be living in a fairytale and they're the ogre.

Rerun from approx. two years ago...

Nature Speaks

We were up in Wisconsin last night and early today. Being lakeside would not appear to have much to offer in March. The snow is gone, the ice is not safe, other water activities still seem to be in the distant future, but one thing that makes it worthwhile is the sound the lake makes as the ice breaks apart and the water moves about below. It's almost primeval.

With few competing sounds, there is nothing to hear but the moaning, bellowing, and thundering of water struggling between two of its states. At times it almost sounded like distant traffic. At other times, like the gunshot of distant rifles. Sometimes it sounded like a soul trapped in purgatory. I think my favorite though would have to be the echoing boings of a million basketballs held captive under water and trying to break free against the icy ceiling. Those made me laugh, made me smile.... Every. Time.

The lake is busy right now, trying to bust out of its winter wardrobe and into something more springlike. Its transition is noisy and demands attention. In stark contrast to the lake were the trees... so still, so quiet, only showing the slightest bit of color change on their newest growth. Willows look a little more golden. A variety of other limbs were looking a little more red. That was it. That was the only difference you could notice. Pretty soon there will be the appearance of buds... which slowly turn into leaves, and still, all done so quietly.This has got to be the time of the year when a tree does its hardest work and it does it in absolute silence.

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Back to the present... I hate March... but remembered, when seeing the blurring tree outside... the one that is no longer stark pen and ink lines against the sky, but rather, looks like wet-on-wet watercolor, that things are happening. We're moving through... and the end is almost always worth the beginning... almost...

blah, blah, blah...

Current cogitation... paraphrased from something I read last week... may I contribute more than I critique...

Which also makes me think of the infamous line, "Opinions are like assholes. Everyone's got one and everyone thinks everyone else's stinks."

Back to work...