Sunday, June 28, 2009
Poor spelling bothers me, especially with resources like dictionaries and spell check at our disposal.I find most people spell poorly. When we write we leave something behind, something that can be viewed again and again. If part of that is misspelled I feel like one would if they went outside without their pants on, exposed, perhaps vulnerable. Maybe it is laziness. I still manage to put my pants on.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Francesca doesn't like Tae Kwon Do. She doesn't hate it. Once she gets there she has a great time. When she asked to sign up Clint and I decided she could do it if she committed to two years. That WAS asking a lot of a four year old but we thought it would be good for her. Her two year commitment will be up in September. Today she had a belt test. She earned her brown belt.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
It gave him an opportunity to see the world beyond his own backyard, which was in itself, pretty interesting.
He used to say he left as a boy and came back a man and I believed him.
Today I remember my dad. I think I would have liked him even before he was my dad.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
The rules of the market do not allow for the selling of live animals but it is the perfect venue to introduce prospective owners to these wonderful dogs.
Suki was fortunate. He found on a home after spending the day at the market.
Friday, June 19, 2009
I have been trying to come up with ideas that will keep the kids coming back.
The Skiffle Band Workshop is next week and the Bookmobile is coming. Can't say I have ever experienced the Bookmobile. It seems odd to me there are people with no books in their homes. I suppose a mobile library is pretty good.
All kids like face painting or body painting as it were. Girls pick butterflies and kitties. Boys pick skulls and sports.
I remember getting a strawberry painted on my face when I was six at The Strawberry Festival in Bolivar. I thought the artist was the coolest person in the whole world.
They brought tomatoes, carrots, zucchini, cucumbers, squash, green beans, peas, lettuce, bread and maple syrup, all produced on their family farm.
As they don't want photographs of themselves taken , I asked if I could photograph their products. They kindly agreed and seemed delighted I was impressed with their food.
Mrs. Weaver and I discussed lettuce and its ability to bolt overnight. She was generous in sharing her knowledge of growing, harvesting and preparing meals. She explained her family ate seasonally and was just about tired of strawberry pie and strawberry jam.
Friday, June 12, 2009
As Father's Day approaches I have been thinking about my dad a lot. I have noticed I am more like him than I ever thought I could be. I use all the dumb one-liners he used. I would rather entertain then be entertained. I become obsessed with my passions. I try to be my daughter's best teacher.
The last father's day gift I bought him was a radio controlled boat so he could play with Francesca without having to physically exert himself. He died two months later and never got the chance.
I am still learning to live without him.
It wasn't always so bad, in fact, sometimes it was downright enjoyable.
I worked in nice places and hole-in-the-wall places and usually made decent money that went into my pocket and not the corrupt governments. I evaded taxes like crazy because, well, I could. I feel no shame about that either.
I was performing a customer service. I listened to peoples joys and sorrows and pretended to care. There were times when I did care. I saved marriages and ruined even more. I cleaned up vomit and feces and urine and some other substances I still have not identified. I was forced to listen to music I hated at volumes that are incomprehensible. I called cabs or dropped off drunks at three in the morning just so the customer wouldn't get their fifth DUI. I mostly listened and for most people that is all they needed beyond the drink or the beer.
I learned to cook mostly from watching my parents and grandparents but this book played a big roll in gaining my independence in the kitchen. It is a Betty Crocker cookbook for kids that my mom bought me when I was about five. I had graduated from the Easy Bake Oven and was ready to move on to the real kitchen. The recipes in this book are things I would never consider eating now but at the time it taught me about proper measuring and oven temperature even if it meant making canned pears look like mice. I was especially fond of the sugar cookie recipe and the pancakes shaped like circus animals. Today I refuse to make any recipe that calls for a can of cream of mushroom soup but back then I followed the instructions to the letter.