comments, complaints, quandries, curses
Does Sister Sue get her stockings free via shoplifting or sleeping with shopkeepers?
Does the sheriff really not know to look behind a hill when searching for illegal stills?
Why does anyone EVER invest in show business? Seems awful risky.
Where did Frank learn to crack safes so well? And knit a sweater?
Last night as part of my mission to Start Getting Out More and its sister effort to Do Stuff Other Than Work And Parent, I went to the Ledding Cultural Forum at the Ledding Library of Milwaukie to see Carson Ellis speak about her life as an illustrator and especially her most recently published book, Home. The reading/talk was at 7pm in the Ledding Library Pond House, a lovely little building across the duck pond from the modernist library building itself. I should mention that I have a particular affinity for the Ledding Library, as it was my childhood library. I read my way through the entire folklore shelf in their excellent children’s library before we moved away from Milwaukie when I was 9. I have what are for me unusually vivid, visceral, happy childhood memories of visiting this library, and my passionate love for libraries took root at the Ledding. So I love this library really a lot. Really.
Carson Ellis has a charming presence, seems quite comfortable speaking in public, and kept reminding me of Joni Mitchell in her striking and unconventional loveliness. She spoke about her childhood, her education as an artist, and how becoming the illustrator for The Decemberists (she’s married to Colin Meloy) helped her develop her technique. She’s a noted illustrator for children’s books, like The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart, The Composer Is Dead by Lemony Snicket, and Dillweed’s Revenge by Florence Parry Heide. She and Colin are renowned for their Wildwood series, for which she produced over 250 illustrations. I enjoyed her talk, and I was too shy to snap any photos until she was surrounded by people getting their books signed. I was also too shy to get my book signed. But I had a lovely time at the reading and then also picking up some books for the kids at the library, and walking in downtown Milwaukie through the warm spring evening. The Ledding Cultural Forum is very cool — you should check it out if Milwaukie, OR is convenient to you.
My little girl is spending her second of three days (and two nights!) at Outdoor Science School today, learning about ecology and geography with her elementary class and the elementary class from another local Montessori school. She’s been super-excited for months about this, and in true Montessori style has had an active role planning the school fundraiser and in preparing herself for camp. I’ve seen a huge leap ahead in her independence and sense of responsibility. Also, she loves geography (well ok, pretty rocks), ecology (cats, slugs, worms, and flowers), and the outdoors. So I’m sure she’s having a fantastic time right now, and I’m so excited that her school offers such rich opportunities for learning.
That said, the child is SIX. And she’s my baby. And she’s the youngest kid of all the kids who are on this trip together. And the morning we dropped her off for camp, she woke up scared, and curled in my lap and cried. I’ve never been much of a “these are the wonder years” parent — I don’t prioritize my own needs well, so I’ve been enjoying the process of the kids getting older and thus needing less All-Mommy-All-The-Time — but right now, I get it.
She’s just going to get bigger and bigger, and she’s going to do amazing things in this world… farther and farther away from me. And I’m going to miss her. I miss her now (so does her little brother; ZOMG that’s a whole different blog post, let me tell you), and I can’t wait until she gets home and can tell me all her stories.
In a way, it’s kind of cool that she’s had this opportunity to range so far away from us this young, while she’s still small enough that I can mush her into a tiny little ball of love when she comes back. And so I can follow through on some of the promises I’ve made to myself in the last 24 hours to enjoy every moment I get to spend with my fantastic kids. Every moment they’re not whining, begging, complaining, or otherwise annoying me, that is. 😉
I got a new bike for Mother’s Day! 
Watch out Springwater Corridor. Watch out all the hills, everywhere. Watch out Cycle Oregon! I’ve got a new red bike, and I’m not afraid to ride it.
Baxter’s home sick, so we’re snuggling on the couch watching classic Superman cartoons and Bob the Builder. Oh, and I dyed my hair again.
Happy May Day! Last Sunday morning, we got a delivery of what was supposed to be 2 yards of dirt for the planter boxes. I now think it was more like 3 yards. On Sunday afternoon (before flying to Texas for my brother-in-law’s funeral), I filled all our planter boxes and planted our new starts! It was a lot of work, but I’m really happy to have edible plants in our garden now.
Before:
Midway point:
The kids helped:
Finally, they were full of dirt:
So then we planted:
And here’s a close-up of each box:
I can’t wait to harvest some salad! 🙂 We’ll plant one or two bush bean plants when the weather warms up a bit, sunlight permitting. I’ve never really been able to grow lettuce before, so if that fails I’ll definitely put the beans in that box. If the shady spot I put the arugula in is too sunny after all, or if we discover we don’t need that much arugula after all (they sold the starts in sets of 6 — the tyranny of plenty!), I might pull out half that box and use that for carrots instead of the lettuce box.
This is all an experiment anyway. If you are great at gardening and wish to advise me, please feel free. 😉
Just finished the first book in Rachel Aaron’s series, The Legend of Eli Monpress. I love reading good books, which so often have been published by good publishing houses and edited by good editors. My wallet is not as fond of me binge-reading novels that run $6-10 each and last me about 2 days, also each. Next series will have to be a cheap one, I guess.
Here’s evidence that Tom has taught Barney some elementary lessons in how to use his new email account on his new tablet. Barney lives too far out in the country to be able to get internet access, but with a tablet with cellular data we might get him to join us in the Internet age after all.
He now has about 10 pictures of my kids in his inbox, so that’s progress at least. 😉
I used to own a lot more black clothes.
Today’s project! 
Background: my husband’s brother, Otis Whitehead, was found dead in his apartment yesterday morning from what we assume was a heart attack. He was 42.
It’s not like we were that close, really. We saw each other at holidays, less frequently when my family moved to Oregon. He visited us a few times. Otis and I had very divergent views of the world. We didn’t much like the same music, movies, or books. We avoided topics that we knew we disagreed about, and there were lots of them. (Well, I avoided them. He’d occasionally start on something, and I’d usually change the subject to something we could speak peacefully about.)
But we were united in love for many of the same people, and people I love are now utterly devastated by his loss. My father-in-law has to bury his son. My husband has to bury his brother. My 11yo niece’s father is gone forever. My kids have lost their beloved uncle. Everyone is bereaved and sad, and I am sad for them.
And death is TERRIFYING. Walking around with the awareness that the people we love are only with us via these tender, delicate bodies that sometimes stop working…. it’s painful and frightening. I’m afraid of losing my husband. I’m afraid of losing my sisters and father and stepmom and friends. I’m stark-raving terrified of losing my kids. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Everyone dies. How do we do all the things we do — pay the bills, go to work, pull weeds, feed cats, sweep floors, fold laundry, read books, watch tv, STRIVE AT ANYTHING — while we hold the knowledge that our time on this earth is finite, and can end at any time? This same flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying.
My understanding is that we should deal with all that by cherishing every moment we can and embracing joy and peace. (Mr. Herrick certainly had his own set of coping mechanisms.) I wish I were zen enough to scrub pots and visit the DMV awash with joy at the miracle of the world. Maybe it just takes more practice?
Mostly I just want to cry, in fear and sadness at the fleeting nature of existence. And then do something more interesting because ZOMG what a downer, right? I guess if I were zen enough I’d embrace the suffering and cherish that as well. That might be more restful than all this running from it, then succumbing to it in despair. I guess wishing I were more zen isn’t very zen either, alas.
The Thing With The Stuff 