Mr Music has started his packing list for church camp. He flew it past me this morning and I though I needed to share. This way, if you have ten-year-old sons headed for camp, they will not have to reinvent the wheel with any unnecessary details like clean socks, sleeping bags, or Bibles. Here ya go:
1. can opener
2. fan
3. twesers (I asked: he rolled his eyes and said, "Cuz you get a splinter. Wouldn't want to be miserable the whole week.")
4. water pistol
5. dinosor game (a mini-pinball kind of thing like you get in birthday party treat bags. I didn't ask why this is essential. I'm sure that would result in more eye-rolling.)
6. magnifying glace ("for checking on things and small print, like my assassin page.")
Kitchen windowsills are so handy. The Bananalets come through, while I am washing dishes or skinning chicken, with little odds and ends that I have no idea what to do with and they get stashed there, up and "out of the way."
Here is the current collection, and let me say, it is minimal. There usually are a few random "parts" - things like washers or screws from unknown objects. Apparently those have all been pitched in a moment of cleaning-up-ness.
The ever-present timer. This is necessary for piano practice, Calculadder pages, assigned chores, and even the occasional baking job.
The small but growing collection of bracelets removed for, but not replaced after, dishwashing. Note that I am in 4th of July prep mode. The fact that red is my favorite color may also be a factor. The one with the Swarovski crystals is such a favorite it even has a mental name (beyond the red crystal bracelet) and I call it Fire and Ice.
Coins. A 2002 Lincoln cent. A 1987 Canadian dollar, quite worn (a looney? or is it loonie?). And, from a trip of Grandma Millie's, two Icelandic coins, one says eitt hundrad kronur and the other tiu kronur. Now, I would think that the Icelandic people spell like Mr Music and that eitt hundrad means eight hundred but the digits show 100 kr. And, similarly, it appears tiu does not mean two, but 10. So much for my natural ability to translate Icelandic to English.
A random rhinestone sparkle kind of thing. I guess in case we figure out what it's gone missing from and are inclined to glue it back. Though the odds of my remembering it was on the windowsill were incalculable.
A small whale ring-holder thing given to me a couple years ago by Miss Language. It holds what it held when it was given to me, a small scrap of paper, saying, "Beware of grape with wooden mallet" Just that. Not even a period at the end.
*note* I am beginning to form a corollary to the HitchHiker's Guide thing about a towel being the most massively useful object in the universe, something like, A windowsill is the most massively random object in the universe.
And, finally, part of a tag from a shirt Miss Dog Lover has had for about a year. It has the cryptic writing BOUGAINVILLEA DITSY. I just love the way that sounds. I considered starting a new blog and calling it BOUGAINVILLEA DITSY. But when I thought about what sort of thing I'd post on a blog with a name like that, random quirkiness came to mind. Hmmm. Kinda like CarpeBanana.
My 4th of July celebration this year just is not going to satisfy me. And it's all Wal*Mart's fault for bringing out my covetous nature.
The current Wal*Mart flyer is brightly displayed on our refrigerator. Not because of their motto: Save money. Live better. which strikes me as rather ironic given the fact they are encouraging us to spend money, but because of the pictures.
The front cover shows a juicy cheeseburger complete with all the toppings (even swiss cheese and a nice slice of hopefully salmonella free tomato). But the best part? This burger itself measures seven and 5/8 inches across and is almost 2 inches thick. I could really sink my teeth into that. In fact, the whole family could eat pretty well from that.
Then inside they go on with all the perfect picnic sidedishes. Hot dogs, steak, ribs, fried chicken, potato salad, baked beans, grilled corn with those parallel grilling lines that are a mystery to me and all too much butter which amazingly just sits on top of the corn, wedges of juicy cantaloupe. The picture of grilling being done by an anonymous male, all we can see of him is his hand, just enough to know that he is young and a tidy griller, with three children joyfully playing in the sprinkler and no one pulling anyone's hair or screaming for Mo-o-o-o-o-o-o-om. The ice cubes in the drinks sparkle. The napkins do not blow away. There are no insects to be seen.
And on the back cover, a sweet little girl with no spills on herself smiling demurely while holding her ice cream cone. No "how come I only get one scoop" or "can't we have Klondikes instead?" or "why didn't you make the cake with a flag on the top made of blueberries and strawberries?" And next to her, the picture of perfectly toasted S'mores. Yes. Golden marshmallows, graham crackers that broke right on the score lines, and Hershey bar looking gooey yet not melted and dripping all over the place. Not to mention, each S'more measures four and 3/4 inches on a side and two inches thick.
Ah, yes, bring on the picnic foods. I will be closing my eyes and pretending they look just like the ones in this ad. At least I can console myself that my food will be much tastier than the newsprint flyer inspiring me.
A couple things especially stand out to me. They strike me. Good thing being hit by light doesn't hurt (unless of course you're in a situation like Saul on the road to Damascus. Then all bets are off.)
#1 The silence of light. You can flip on a light switch in another room and no one hears a thing. Dawn comes silently. And as the Christmas carol says,
How silently, how silently, the wondrous Gift is giv’n;
So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His Heav’n.
#2 The non-fillingness of light (or the lightness of light ). In the winter, I always feel I ought to leave the light on in a room when I will be gone a short while, just as the heat stays on, so that the room will be full of light when I return. I actually picture light filling the room from bottom to top, just like the room were a large aquarium and filling with luminous water and taking a little while to fill the room. I picture the light spilling a little out the windows and through doorways into other rooms, but not filling them, it just kind of glops out like a really think glaze on a cake. But light is not like that. It is just there so quickly it seems immediate to us.
I posted awhile back about my desire to invent a new color. I want to add to that idea a further embellishment. We are created in God's image, "the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change." Maybe as part of reflecting His glory, we shine in our own color. And maybe, just maybe, that is why I desire a new color ~ because there are so many and I am one.
Actually I do not want to talk about opening cans (though both Mr Music and Miss Dog Lover possess admirable can-opening skills) but about my Mr Music's ability to dress up in new and amazing ways. Everyone should have a boy like this.
If you have been following his Little League adventures, you know they came from behind Monday to win on a grand slam. There were other eye-popping plays, such as the way the 2nd baseman chased down a runner on his way back to first, caught up, and tagged him just a hair short of his being safe on first (it was just like how the cheetah outruns the wee critter just short of its den only no gore was involved). The cheetah in this case was sporting a new Mohawk and the haircut got credit for the speed, (quoth Coach Doug, "It's the 'do, Dude!").
So, natch, yesterday found Miss Language lining up a nice straight line of masking tape on Mr Music's head so he could be shaved down to team-inspired Mohawkdom.
And equally natch, I forgot what sight awaited me first thing this morning. But not only was it Mr Music gone native, but he had dressed in his kilt, T shirt, and tricorn hat. And greeted me with a bow, showing his well-formed calf in the Colonial style. And then before I had fully recovered, he located the white tissue paper from the box of his cleats (discreetly printed in grey with RbK Authentic), scrunched and rolled it into wig form, and provided himself with a wig for under the tricorn hat. His hat also sports an ostrich feather, shockingly similar to the ones in my duster. I believe he is about ready for a fitting with Miss Mary at the Peruke Maker's shop in Williamsburg. She greatly desired to shave 'is 'ed bald and fit 'im in the latest style on our last visit.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008 - The Sickness is Spreading
The most wonderful time of the year - when both Mr Mailman and Mr UPS deliver brown packages full of perfect-looking materials for the coming school year - we can revel in their perfectness and not have to do any actual work other than laying out the year's schedule.
But now today, I ask, do you think I need to be worried? I opened up the new MasterPak 2 of CalcuLadder drills and then took a look at AlphaBetter, only to hear Miss Dog Lover say, "Hey! That looks like fun!"
I am pretty sure I never considered alphabetizing words any sort of fun. Wait till I tell her it's even better than she thought -- she gets to try to beat the clock while she's at it. But I am so mean. She'll just have to wait till school starts back to give it a try.
Monday, June 23, 2008 - What the Well-Dressed Alien is Wearing
Miss Language and I had some shopping to do. We came across a purple tote bag with the motto, "Green is the new black." Something about this being printed on a purple bag appealed to me so I filed the quote away. We got home and I queried Devastatingly Handsome as to what he thought it meant ~~ his reply as not the top fashion expert in the galaxy was ~~ "I dunno, something about aliens are green and they are a minority so now African Americans are not the minority anymore."
Right-ho.
I just want to say, while on the subject, that this whole greenness thing is a bit ho-hum when you are as frugal as we Bananas. You can't get much greener than buying clothes at the Goodwill, walking to the mall, using a reel lawn mower, not using disposable products. I think this is just a clever ploy to make frugality cool.
~~~
And in unrelated news, we are still hanging in the Sudden Death position as regards Little League, after a forfeit game on Saturday and then an amazing win tonight concluding with a game winning grand slam by a team-mate of Mr Music. Pretty exciting stuff.
Mr Music and his Little League team are now into the playoffs. Today's game is Sudden Death. I must be over-sensitive, but I just don't like applying that name to something involving my baby.
This season has had some highlights. One surprising one has been my favorite ump, the Dad who is in charge of the whole operation. He does it just like a real ump, with the arm motions and even screams "STEEEEEEEE-RIIIIIKE" in such a way that I am sure the young batters are consoled that even though the struck, they are playing with professionals, not a bunch of little kids.
Mr Music's team has the world's most relaxed, positive coaches. By now I am convinced that even if I were out there, they would be able to find something good to say about every play I make, probably even more positive than, "Look at that! She swung the bat and no one got killed. Way to go!" "What a play! Look at the way she hardly ducked when the ball came to her glove!"
Thursday night some of the players were getting a bit upset as it looked as if they would lose (and they did ). Coach Doug started saying, "Win or lose it's OK. Tomorrow morning it won't matter." I wasn't too sure this would go anywhere, till he added the master stroke, "and whether we win or lose, we still get our snack after the game." The calming effect the thought of food (pizza! hot dogs! sugar!) had on these 9 to 11 year olds was amazing. Mental notes to self: remind math-test-takers that dinner is coming. Keep the good smells coming from the oven and the crock-pot on rough school days. And what would happen if I corrected tests with red ink declaring, "You did one amazing job on this test! Look at the play you made on that word problem! Saxon just pitched one division fact ahead of you is all. You went down writing and that's what we want to see," and then it seems you have to rub the top of the player's head.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008 - A Bit Too Much Like the Pirates of Penzance
Our church uses the Trinity Hymnal and the Psalter. The Bananas here love singing. But, unfortunately (I think) we also love our occasional dose of The Pirates of Penzance. The problem for me comes when the two mix. That has happened due to a hymn we learned this year.
It's Come, Ye Faithful, Raise the Strain written in the 8th century by John of Damascus. So far, so good. But then, who had to go write the tune we use for it? Sir Arthur Sullivan. Now, I just cannot hear any of his tunes without starting to picture bands of pirates and the Major General Stanley lurking about, ready to sing about how incredible classical education is, and sometimes I even branch out (my Mum taught me more Gilbert and Sullivan than I've passed on) to polishing up the handle so carefully or being called Sweet Buttercup. That is bad enough. But then to make this particular hymn even harder for me to get out of my head, the translation had to use Gilbert-like language. My favorite line (ALWAYS sung in my head by a chorus in sailor suits and dresses) is "led them with unmoistened foot through the Red Sea waters."
). In the winter, I always feel I ought to leave the light on in a room when I will be gone a short while, just as the heat stays on, so that the room will be full of light when I return. I actually picture light filling the room from bottom to top, just like the room were a large aquarium and filling with luminous water and taking a little while to fill the room. I picture the light spilling a little out the windows and through doorways into other rooms, but not filling them, it just kind of glops out like a really think glaze on a cake. But light is not like that. It is just there so quickly it seems immediate to us.
). Coach Doug started saying, "Win or lose it's OK. Tomorrow morning it won't matter." I wasn't too sure this would go anywhere, till he added the master stroke, "and whether we win or lose, we still get our snack after the game." The calming effect the thought of food (pizza! hot dogs! sugar!) had on these 9 to 11 year olds was amazing. Mental notes to self: remind math-test-takers that dinner is coming. Keep the good smells coming from the oven and the crock-pot on rough school days. And what would happen if I corrected tests with red ink declaring, "You did one amazing job on this test! Look at the play you made on that word problem! Saxon just pitched one division fact ahead of you is all. You went down writing and that's what we want to see," and then it seems you have to rub the top of the player's head.
