squirrel momma

Dream!

Our household is hurtling at the speed of light toward the end of the school year, so I had to get up extra early on a Sunday morning to catch up on my blog reading. I was happily surprised to discover that the online magazine Small has a new issue out, with lots of wonderful things to look at (even if you don't have small children):

The whole magazine is pure brain candy (and I mean that in a happy-buzzy kind of way, without the tooth rot).  I discovered Dallas Clayton's Awesome Book, which you can view in its entirety and order here.

I have seriously tried to give up my addiction to buying children's books, but I had to have this one. He totally sucked me in with the pictures of the rocket powered unicorns, and the line, "...Once you've got that dream in mind, please dream a million more.  And not a million quiet dreams, a million dreams that ROAR!"  Yes!

Moving at the Speed of Light

Because my children are 4 and a half years apart I feel like I have had a generous serving of the bittersweet knowledge of how fast time flies. It really hit me the other day when the gym where both my kids have taken gymnastic classes for years held an open house, and I tried to snap a picture of Nut Boy doing a round off from the balance beam.

As I was trying to capture a 10 year old boy in mid flight I was remembering when my daughter was just beginning gymnastics almost 12 years ago. Her little face checking for me in the waiting area, excited to be trying something new but also intimidated by the kids who already knew how to do the Holy Grail of preschool gymnastics, the cartwheel. And now my son, fearlessly flinging himself off the balance beam in that picture...I can remember the exact feel of his sweaty little hand in mine when he was not yet two and I would guide him down the length of the beam, making sure he walked in a straight line, one foot in front of the other, and didn't fall.

Next weekend I'll be watching from the sidelines at the state track finals as Squirrel Girl stands confidently at the starting line, exchanging a smile and a joke with her teammates while she arranges herself just so, waiting for the starter's gun. And Nut Boy will be donning pads and helmet and playing the last lacrosse games of the season, too busy during the game to even glance at the sidelines. Neither of them needs to hold my hand any more to succeed. But I have to tell you, it's still hard letting go.

Still Building the Flock

My husband asked me last night, "So, how's the Etsy store going?"

"Oh," I blithely replied, "I haven't added anything lately. I'm sewing birds."

"How many more do you need to sew? Are you making a whole flock?!"

Well, it sounds like a good idea to me!

This one's definitely done:

This one might need something more on top of his head--a twig, perhaps?

I'm definitely keeping this one. It's "the man with the thistledown hair" from Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrel, but in this incarnation he's friendly, perhaps even helpful.

And this last one is...a...fish?

I think I've finally found a profession that suits me: cryptozoologist. Not sure yet who's hiring or what it pays.

Road Read

I had to spend several hours in the car today, driving to hither and yon and back again, and I listened to The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society to keep my brain occupied.

I was a little skeptical about listening to a novel told through a series of letters, but the readers manage to pull it off. Now I just have to invent 8 hours of errands this weekend so that I can hear what happens when the heroine finally makes it to Guernsey!

Victory Gardening

The one thing that stops Martha Stewart and I from being identical twins is that I totally and utterly despise gardening. I'm pretty much only interested in growing things that I can eat, and as far as edible plants go I'm usually too lazy to tackle anything besides herbs.

This year, however, I broke down and bought some patio tomatoes to stick in the planters on my front steps. These planters have had a long succession of short-lived greenery in them, and that, combined with fact that the planters may have once been situated in a cemetery (don't ask) made me think I should replace the dirt in them with fresh potting soil before I used them to grow food in. So I bought a bag of this:

Luckily I was able to bribe Nut Boy into helping me empty out the old soil and dump in our new sparkling fresh organic dirt, which the bag promised would feed and nourish our plants for 2 months. But as we spread this glorious mixture out we noticed it was lumpy. And had half-composted mysterious things in it. And it smelled...well...organic.  

I had to read the fine print on the back of the bag, but I finally discovered the magic ingredient: poultry litter. Which I'm guessing is a euphemism for chicken poop. And I guess I could let the smell get to me, let it annoy me as I go to check on the progress of my little tomato plants, but I'm going to roll with the punches.  As I bend over those planters every morning I'm going to take a big whiff, smile, and say, "Ahhh. Organic!"

Then I'll gag slightly and go back inside to my odorless sewing machine.

Harry Potter for Adults

Right now I'm listening to Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke:

It's a lengthy (the audio version is 32 hours) and extremely detailed novel about magicians in England during the early 19th century--sort of like a Harry Potter for adults. But what struck me today, as I was listening and working, is how the images in the book have influenced my odd little creatures. Singing dresses, magical mirrors and an ominous Man with Thistledown Hair. No wonder I'm making birds with human faces! 

And it just occurred to me that my newest bird might possibly have thistledown hair...