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November 29, 2005

A crisp blue day and all spent outdoors, without camera. Tomorrow I hope to remember.

There is a pair of great horned owls outside: one near the bedroom window in the juniper, the other down the road, and they are volleying a throaty sonnet. The windows are closed for the frost tonight.

The Mexican Freetail bats are still here. On a walk beneath Congress Ave. bridge, the colony distracted me from the sunset with their electric chirping. On my way home, a lacy parade of bats veiled the blue twilight, hungry.

Chas and I are snuggled in bed and I just finished his blue soaker shorts. They are precious but it will be too cold tomorrow to model them outdoors. Perhaps he can model them indoors.....

Posted by Steph at 01:35 PM | Comments (2)

November 21, 2005

Tick, tock

I can tell that life has gotten hectic because I haven't spent much time the past week in reflection. Normally, there are about five minutes of peace in the middle of a day where I can stare into the forest and listen, or watch a spider spin a web, or feel the sun warming my back. But the holidays are upon me and I feel the pressure rising. I have a gift list that keeps detailing and evolving. Chas has developed the speed with which to help Ford whirl the house into havoc, and I simply can't keep up during the day. The evenings are either spent tidying or knitting, since Chas needs new wool pants. But there isn't much time left for gift-making. And the elves begin visiting the house, what, next week? Ford is expecting a fabric Whomping Willow and a set of handmade Harry Potter dolls from the elves. Me, being the elves, of course.

Posted by Steph at 02:59 AM | Comments (6)

November 18, 2005

Week-long Hiatus

Sorry, mom :)
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Posted by Steph at 06:30 AM | Comments (0)

November 14, 2005

Sunday Sound Quilt

Chas has been playing with words. He watches my mouth pronounce his favorite words, and he is eager to repeat adn repeat:Ball, mamamamamama, dee dee (which means "baby doll" to him), dog, hieeeee (hi), bye-eeeee (bye), bah-bah (basketball), and various barn animal sounds. His favorite monologue is the repetition of the word "hot." He repeats, "Haaaa-Tuh, haaa-tuh, haa-tuh" for himself to hear. He enjoys the way it feels. It's sweet to watch him circle about the house, signing and saying the same word in a happy, meandering trance. It's a layer of music.

The other layers include the IndiePopRocks simulcast, set on low. I think Damon enjoys the living soundtrack. It's mellowing.

And then there is Ford on electric guitar and Damon on Ford's classical guitar. They sit beside one another, playing guitar-babble of their own. Of course, it sounds nothing like babble, but it's the same little dance. They are feeling out for sounds they like. Ford has the advantage of not having to develop and fortify his ego right now; he is at a wonderful stage in his life where these things are already robust. So he sits there, exploring the sounds that he makes without the want to play like another, or sound like another. At this point, it is only sound. It's like learning how to talk; he and Chas are very much on the same page, in that respect.

Posted by Steph at 06:24 AM | Comments (0)

Sunday Tapestry

Santa's elf has set up her workshop upstairs:
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...and is ready to open the gimongous $3 bag of vintage fabric:
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While Santa snoozes outside:
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Posted by Steph at 01:57 AM | Comments (0)

November 12, 2005

In Case I Forget to Mention It

With the return of daylight savings, preparing dinner is a delicate but manic dance around a demanding and danger-prone toddler and the fact that Ford leaves school at dusk, right about the time Chas turns into a werewolf. It's a crazy juggling act trying to get dinner, or something that resembles dinner, on the table for everyone. It's even harder trying to get the boys to eat it. But that's another story. Tonight there's one thing I want to remark on, because I know Ford is getting older. This cute little thing he's done all year that has been so fun to watch will, most likely, eventually phase out:

I love the moment when the plates are all on the table, and everyone has a glass and a fork and a knife and a spoon and a napkin, and the burners are turned off and we finally begin to eat. It is at that moment, when we take our first bite or have our first sip of wine (after an obligatory "Cheers!"), that Ford always begins, in upright posture and a tilt to his head,

"So, how was your day, Mommy?"

See? Small talk never sounded so good.

Posted by Steph at 04:04 AM | Comments (0)

November 10, 2005

Speed of Sound

Click on the photograph below and wait eternity for the movie to download, but it was my moment of zen today and I thought it was fun enough to share. Mvi 8744

Posted by Steph at 03:33 PM | Comments (1)

November 09, 2005

SPT: Self-Documentary Series #6

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I am his teacher.
From birth, I have helped translate the world to him.
And now, the world is not enough;
he wants me to explain the universe, and death, and subatomic particle behavior,
and my mind is getting tired and feeling ignorant.
I need someone to translate these things for me.

Posted by Steph at 08:44 AM | Comments (0)

The Garden: November Specimens

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Posted by Steph at 03:15 AM | Comments (2)

November 07, 2005

Fall comes, Fall goes

It is Fall in the Northern Hemisphere. I had to explain this to Ford tonight, as I hunched over the bathtub bathing Chas. Not just the fact that it really is Fall, but the part about our hemisphere facing away from the sun. He had originally asked why today was so short, and I had to explain to him that the days were actually getting shorter. He stood there, watching his reflected expressions in the mirror:

"So, Mommy, is it Fall?"

Of course, he would have to wonder, what with the confusion we're experiencing in our Spring-inspired weather. The boys spent the evening playing in the sprinkler while I tended the plants. As the sun began to set, I put them into the jogger wearing only their underwear, and we walked along yellow Chinaberry groves and scattered Black walnut, red flags bouncing in the breeze. And then, hark! we heard the unearthed drone of a cicada. Ford sat upright in the stroller and, I kid you not, said "What the hell? A cicada!"

Posted by Steph at 10:51 AM | Comments (0)

Wild Child


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Posted by Steph at 05:16 AM | Comments (0)

November 06, 2005

An Interview with the Emergent Illustrator Ford M. Sicore

Ford wants to be an illustrator. I interviewed him this morning after he created this elaborate scene:

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Stephanie: (holding my invisible microphone) So Ford, the world wants to know more about this young illustrator named Ford. Can we begin our interview with the question, "When did you decide to become an illustrator?"
Ford: (With a mouthful of sandwich) I decided to become an illustrator when I was playing the guitar upstairs with Daddy.
S: I see. Did something or somebody inspire you? What I mean to say is, did you read a book, or watch a television program or watch somebody else illustrating when you decided to become an illustrator, yourself?
F: Yes. I was watching television on the channel they call (pause to chew sandwich) K..L...R....
S: Oh, our local PBS station called "KLRU?"
F: Yes.
S: And what show were you watching?
F: The show with the books, you know...
S: Oh, Reading Rainbow?
F: yes!
S: Well, that's all the time we have for today, Ford. Thank you for the interview. Now let's hear the story behind this piece you just finished. Would you do the honors?
F: Sure!

"Next to these mountains right here are some caves, do you see them? People lived in these caves and slept there. And next to the caves, next to the mountains was a huge, huge pool of water. Actually, a huge pool of atoms. And the atoms are so small, they are this small (demonstrates with his fingers, the space between his pointer finger and thumb, pressed together). The atoms bounced together so furiously that they made noise that actually woke up the people sleeping in the caves. So the people went outside the cave, and they found a portal. The went up to the portal, but the portal sucked them inside. Suddenly, suddenly, they found themselves taken by the portal to that place called...New York City. And they looked around and saw what was there. Then they went back into the portal, and the portal took them back home to their caves."

Posted by Steph at 04:00 AM | Comments (0)

November 05, 2005

Chas found a portal, too:

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Posted by Steph at 04:09 PM | Comments (1)

November 04, 2005

Wild Basin Wilderness

I took the boys out for loop around Wild Basin wilderness preserve after lunch. As we unloaded for our walk, we were met by a investigative swarm of yellowjackets. Ford began to freak out as I watched him eyeball three drones on his shirtless body. Not sure what to do, since my hands were tied, I urged him to just be still and watch them explore. I told him to use the opportunity to see them up close, so long as he remained perfectly, perfectly still. Which he did. And the whimpers ceased as he began to comment on their similarity to bees. I have no idea why they were attracted to us. All I can figure is that we smelled too lavendar-y with our herbal sunscreen, and that Ford might have left a little strawberry jam on his face after lunch.
At any rate, once we started on the trail, they lost interest.

The trail crests a ridge that overlooks, um, Wild Basin wilderness. It's Westlake's backyard, full of, um, wildlife. Besides the wasps, however, there wasn't much wildlife awake to greet us on the trail except one lone mockingbird. We did see something new, though. Atop a limestone outcropping laid a half dollar-diameter star-shaped fungus that could have easily been mistaken for a spider: a small sphere, on inspection, had burst to reveal a tiny hole on top; the "legs" were eight radiating, pointy black extensions. I think it was an Earth Star, a type of exploding shroom, and this lesson captivated Ford. Like, the rest of the afternoon. These days, it's all about explosives and things with bioluminescence.

I brought a heavy and clunky 35mm camera without batteries. The strap irritated my neck, but Chas, in the backpack, seemingly felt sorry enough to pat the back of my head and play with my hair. He occasionally pointed to things and shouted exclamations that we couldn't understand but agreed with. We felt so jaded on the trail, Ford and I, because it was a very large version of our yard. I guess we were hoping for a water feature or a cave or, um, more wildlife.

Posted by Steph at 05:24 AM | Comments (0)

November 03, 2005

Making Wreaths with Chas

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Posted by Steph at 10:38 PM | Comments (0)

November 01, 2005

SPT self-documentary series #5

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Everyday me. The silly cornerstone of the meal.
It's all good. Sometimes, on the job, I dream.
Mostly about other things I could be doing,
not that I'd rather. Even when I really do feel like a pig on a spit.



Posted by Steph at 11:33 PM | Comments (2)

Fall, finally

The morning was crisp and the breeze tickled the Juniper Cedar boughs, and berries littered the patio before we swept and painted:
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Later, while Chas napped, Ford and I sat down at the foot of the flower bed and tended the plants. I drilled him on the names of each plant and he was, not surprisingly, correct most of the time. He showed me where the Christmas cactus is growing new leaves, I told him that people used to make paper with the papyrus plant.
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Damon buzzed and whirred in the garage, building his amp as fast as possible before the rain came. And soon, it came. Gusts of cold air lifted the new Fall foliage and tiny drops ushered a long rainfall. Ford and I watched as Damon scrambled his welder back into the garage, shouting expletives into the bustling front.
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Posted by Steph at 11:42 AM | Comments (0)