Brrr!

I'm not one of those gloating-about-the-weather Californians.  I know you're cold out there!  I've spent many a bundled winter hiking over icy plow mounds and stepping into slush-covered puddles, and I still don't think you should move here just for the weather.  Snowy winters can be so beautiful, and sometimes (but not always) I miss them.

I was thinking about you out there in the blizzards when I noticed this tangerine peel on my breakfast table, the perfect symbol for the Californian daydreaming about winter:

Kissing Thaumatrope

A few years ago, I thought that it would be so fun to make Joe a kissing thaumatrope for Valentine's Day.  Like so many of my BRILLIANT ideas, I promptly forgot all about it.

Until recently, when I saw this thaumatrope-on-a-stick on Made by Joel, and it reminded me that I had to try it.  Even though they're not done, I'm showing you my work in progress now, just in case you want to use this idea to make your very own thaumatrope valentines.

Are you wondering what I am talking about?

On one side it looks like this:

On the other side it looks like this:

When you spin the stick, it looks like this:

Movie magic!  Persistence of vision!!!  Kissing!!!!!  Does it get any better than this?

I'm making some for my three little Valentinos, too.  Isn't it funny that no one in my family even asked what I was doing when I said, "Here, stand against the wall and let me take a picture of you kissing something."  They all just did it.

If you do make your own, please send me a picture!  Wouldn't they make sweet wedding invitations or favors?

Materials:  Paper, cardboard, double-stick tape or glue, round chopstick or kebab stick, photo prints or drawings of kissers in profile.  Line them up carefully so that they work together when you spin the stick, and test it out before you glue!

Uncle Corey

Although he was here for less than a day, and I was laid up with a bad back the whole time, it was pure fun to see him, as it always is.

Casanova and Me

In the spring of 2001, a dear friend of mine died unexpectedly.  While clearing out his apartment with a few close friends, I noticed that he had one shelf of special books on the wall of his bedroom.  I knew they must have been his favorites because even though the rest of his apartment was crammed with books, on this one small shelf I recognized several titles that he had recommended to me over the years.  From this eclectic mix of fiction, philosophy, education, and autobiography, each of the books that he had loaned me had been extraordinary, and had introduced me to some of my most favorite authors and ideas.

 

Somewhere in an old box of 35mm slides, I have a picture that I took of his shelf before we boxed up the books.  I picked out a few to keep, and then we donated the rest to charity.

 

One of these books that has languished on my shelf until now is The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova.  Have you read it?  Much more than just the exaggerations of a wealthy womanizer, it is a lavish 1700's autobiography, part travelogue and part trickster-tales, overflowing with impossible romance and adventure.  Could the life of Jacques Casanova possibly be any more different from that of a 21st Century frugal, faithful, forty-something L.A. mom with a minivan?!  Although I am not escaping from the Inquisition, seducing my way across Europe, gambling, masquerading, dropping diamonds, dueling and duping princes and popes, I sure am having fun reading about it.

Here are a couple of my favorite quotes so far:

(As Casanova is arrested in Venice by the Inquisition) 

There were about forty archers outside the door, which showed they expected some difficulty in arresting me!  Two would have been enough.  It is odd that in London, where every one is brave, one can arrest another single-handed.  Among cowards thirty are not considered too many: it is, perhaps, because the coward turned assailant is more frightened than the coward whom he assails!

                                                  This archer is neither Venetian nor 18th C.

(After meeting a beautiful French woman) 

A letter of recommendation written by the Graces on the forehead of Beauty is never dishonoured, for every one who has his eyes and a heart pays on sight.

                         My favorite 18th C. French beauty, Quentin de la Tour

So, tell me please, what books are on your special shelf?

Cowboy Parenting

For the past couple of years, I've been inching my way through the long and consistently wonderful list of Newbery medal winners.  I'm midway through Will James' Smoky, the Cowhorse, winner of the 1927 medal, and I just came across this gem that brought to my mind some of the concepts behind compassionate parenting:

Will James was a French Canadian turned Wild West cattle rustler, who wrote and illustrated many books on horses and cowboys.  His characters of both Smoky and Clint, the cowboy who becomes Smoky's "pardner" are beautifully described.  James' deep compassion for horses and his entertaining use of cowboy dialect are making this book a real pleasure to read.

And, since I just can't bring myself to write a post without a picture, here's an old one of Ruben waiting for his grub from the chuckwagon:

Firefighter Birthday Party

Ever since Ruben's preschool took a field trip to the fire station, he has been very interested in acting out fire scenarios at home.  Although it isn't at all difficult to find a good preschool-sized firefighter costume, we didn't have one, so over the past several weeks I have sorted out a firefighter costume for him with things from around the house.  He wears jeans and a matching jean jacket with yellow electrical tape stripes on it, black boots, and a hat made from: newspaper, packing tape, a piece of red origami paper and the sticker that they handed out at the fire station.  His tools include an axe (spatula), hose (piece of rope wound on an old 16mm film reel), and phone for dialing 911 (stickers on the wall with numbers written on them).  We wave red bandannas to pretend there's a fire and he comes right to the rescue.  When the whole family gets in on it, he LOVES it.

For his birthday, we took it all to the park, and invited two of his friends and their parents to get in on the action.  We acted out the fire rescue scenario over and over, including trips to the hospital (picnic table) where we were treated for broken limbs and smoke inhalation.  He had requested a cake "shaped like a house on fire with snow on the roof," so I made a banana cake with cream cheese frosting and topped it with little people for him to rescue.

Just before serving, I poured some heated rum around the base of the cake and lit it on fire for a little flambé excitement.  (It sort of worked, but would probably have been more dramatic in a dark room.)  It did soak the bottom of the cake with rum, so that part was for the parents, and the kids got the top layer.  I'm pretty sure that Ruben loved everything about his little party.

Four

 

I can't believe he's already four any more than I can believe that I've only known him for four years.  How does that work?  He is our treasure, and life in this house is so full of fun because of this loving, sensitive, loud and hilariously funny little fellow.  Happy fourth birthday, Ruben!