My freshmen are writing papers about icons and I told them that the icons have to symbolize something; they can't just be celebrities, but must have some deeper meaning that reflects the values of our society. I was expecting: My icon symbolizes the deep ironic sexual longing of the post-punk feminists. I got: Barack Obama symbolizes change. Ok, sure he does.
So, today, I symbolize hope. Here's a list, just for brevity's sake: i am becoming stronger, unafraid to set limits, unafraid of consequences of following what i know to be true, unafraid to ask for not just what i need but what i want. i have a new job for the spring. i am about to sit down and write a really cool grant letter. my son likes to play hide and seek, float in the bathtub, sing old macdonald, and covered my face with kisses this evening. I ate a lot of vegetables for dinner and loads of fiber. Now i can have ice cream. there is a good chance i won't fail my comp exam and i think my portfolio might be alright. i just submitted a story to a contest. there is some fleeting chance that my house might approach clean this weekend. my sister is coming to visit, i am hosting a party, and i am hosting thanksgiving. my research is so interesting t me.
all of this despite the fact that i've thrown my back out, i can't stop coughing, my car got broken into (and now we have to fix it even though we were about to sell it) and my cell phone was stolen. oh yeah, and, after an exhausting day, i dragged dylan down to old navy to buy a winter coat during thier half off sale (almost over) and they were closed. but hey, we got to listen to his baby music there and back -- hooray! You can never get enough Look at the Monkey.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Fall
This blog is where i get to be banal and cliche, right?
The wind blows and the leaves create ana aerial circus outside the window. Dylan and I watch from the bathroom window of my parents' house and he is more captivated by this than by Sesame Street. We go outside. "Airplane," he says, "Up dere." He points towards the bare trees. We watch a leaf helicopter down. "Fall," I tell him. "Fall," he repeats.
We sit on the carpeted landing of my parents' steps. "Uh-oh!" I tell him, sounding ominous. He squeels, starts to back away. "Uh-oh, uh-oh," I reach towards him, "I have to Squeeeze you!" We grab each other in a tight hug, giggling. He puts his head on my shoulder. We sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I leave out words. He fills them in. We rock back and forth. The leaves whisper to and fro outside, settling, settling. We watch them through the windows by the front door. We rock, we watch, we don't let go of each other. Fall.
The wind blows and the leaves create ana aerial circus outside the window. Dylan and I watch from the bathroom window of my parents' house and he is more captivated by this than by Sesame Street. We go outside. "Airplane," he says, "Up dere." He points towards the bare trees. We watch a leaf helicopter down. "Fall," I tell him. "Fall," he repeats.
We sit on the carpeted landing of my parents' steps. "Uh-oh!" I tell him, sounding ominous. He squeels, starts to back away. "Uh-oh, uh-oh," I reach towards him, "I have to Squeeeze you!" We grab each other in a tight hug, giggling. He puts his head on my shoulder. We sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I leave out words. He fills them in. We rock back and forth. The leaves whisper to and fro outside, settling, settling. We watch them through the windows by the front door. We rock, we watch, we don't let go of each other. Fall.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
My Surfboard
I must be a nester. I just got to my parents' house for the holiday and it's so great when i come here bc i don't have to worry about mopping the floors and i don't care if certain people (ahem!) forget to put their dishes in the sink and also its big and everything works and is clean and easy and, oh yeah, dinner is magically put onto the table without my having to do anything more than say, mom, do you want me to help? oh, you've already done everything. ok. and maybe set the table if I feel generous.
it IS amazing how much time food takes out of my life. The thinking preparing shopping cooking cleaning putting away getting ready for the next day packing lunches cutting snacks wondering what goes with what and picking up those last few ingredients. My mom just had her kitchen redone and so she couldn't cook for 6 weeks. They ate out almost every meal. She's like, wow, i can't believe how much free time i have. so she's been going to yoga. now she's kind of getting back into the swing of things and we'll put her kitchen to the test tomorrow when we cook the holiday chickens. it'll be nice not to have the oven break down on us for once.
still, she was deciding what to cook for dinner tonight and my dad suggested chinese food and she was like, oh, great idea! that never would have happened two months ago. never. i'm glad. i know it's hard for me to pull back and not do stuff --- and that's a lot because of her. and that's a good thing - a compliment i mean. because i think she really taught me how to get stuff done and not be lazy or disorganized. But still, it's also important to know how to relax and i'm glad she seems more able to do that.
it IS amazing how much time food takes out of my life. The thinking preparing shopping cooking cleaning putting away getting ready for the next day packing lunches cutting snacks wondering what goes with what and picking up those last few ingredients. My mom just had her kitchen redone and so she couldn't cook for 6 weeks. They ate out almost every meal. She's like, wow, i can't believe how much free time i have. so she's been going to yoga. now she's kind of getting back into the swing of things and we'll put her kitchen to the test tomorrow when we cook the holiday chickens. it'll be nice not to have the oven break down on us for once.
still, she was deciding what to cook for dinner tonight and my dad suggested chinese food and she was like, oh, great idea! that never would have happened two months ago. never. i'm glad. i know it's hard for me to pull back and not do stuff --- and that's a lot because of her. and that's a good thing - a compliment i mean. because i think she really taught me how to get stuff done and not be lazy or disorganized. But still, it's also important to know how to relax and i'm glad she seems more able to do that.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
He Said
Bikable, mooksh, li-on, hepticopter, want it, Daddy coming, Mommy here, I miss Aunt Barb, monkey, seal, BUS!!!!, baby, mac-a-RO-lee, Dylan swimming, I Dylan, goona agoona, share (and then rip a toy out of some other kids hand), garage sale, I slide down, chocolate, ice-cream, broccoli, Gampa, Atta, My P.J., A-P.J. kissing, meow, meow-meow, titty tat, boobies, my surf board, no baf, wesh, I loyoo, pease, Maryee, Maryee up dere?, Joshua, potty, I keen it, Ashley, Michael, outside!, payground, trash!, rock, button (belly), buttons (channel changer), shockadoo, bless you, sneeze!, hapchee, hush, hello (just want to say ...), nigh-nigh, moon, star, bu-fly, cricket
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Allergic
Do you ever think you are allergic to happiness? I'm riding down Walnut today and it's just gorgeous. the trees are pink and white and veined with tender green, so fragile, you want to cry and glue the petals in place just to make them last forever. And the breeze as I biked lifted up my hair and cooled my shoulders even as my back muscles grew hot and loose. I went over the Schylkill River (god, will I ever learn to spell that???) and my thighs were burning and I wanted to stop but I didn't want to stop either. I could see the joggers on the river path below, the good ones with their reddened necks and legs and their even breathing and the ones that have just crept out from winter dens, weighed down by fat and sweatsuits, gasping and waving their arms as if drowning. Just walk, I want to tell them, and the thought of yelling it makes me laugh.
I am on my way to buy tickets to a klezmer concert, except this is tough girl, all drum klezmer. I'm going with my whole family on Mother's Day and Larry's family is joining us for dinner at my house before that. Hooray, no one hates me today (I don't think...). We are going to bring the babies to the playground and the petals will fall all around us and it will be like we're in one of those snow globes, but it'll be like a flower globe.
I think about being a mother. And a wife. And a student. And a daughter. And a writer. I could not be happier. To be in my body, to feel the sun pricking red upon my nose, to taste the film of chocolate left in my mouth, to rub my chapped (always chapped) lips together and feel like a movie star because I am on my bike, wearing the sunglasses with the rhinestones (even though some have fallen out). I want to do yoga. I want to swim. I want to read a magazine in the hot hot sun and drink ice tea and wear a straw hat. i want to hike in alaska. i want to creep through the decaying streets of Fez. I want to wear a djellaba. I want a dog.
And just like the petals, I want to glue this feeling in place. I will go home, I will get a parking ticket, my cat will get fleas, my ATM fee will suck, my library books will be late, Larry will put his dishes in the sink instead of the dishwasher, I will get bleach on my Saturday night jeans. And it will all be over. But I dont want it to be. So I keep riding.
I am on my way to buy tickets to a klezmer concert, except this is tough girl, all drum klezmer. I'm going with my whole family on Mother's Day and Larry's family is joining us for dinner at my house before that. Hooray, no one hates me today (I don't think...). We are going to bring the babies to the playground and the petals will fall all around us and it will be like we're in one of those snow globes, but it'll be like a flower globe.
I think about being a mother. And a wife. And a student. And a daughter. And a writer. I could not be happier. To be in my body, to feel the sun pricking red upon my nose, to taste the film of chocolate left in my mouth, to rub my chapped (always chapped) lips together and feel like a movie star because I am on my bike, wearing the sunglasses with the rhinestones (even though some have fallen out). I want to do yoga. I want to swim. I want to read a magazine in the hot hot sun and drink ice tea and wear a straw hat. i want to hike in alaska. i want to creep through the decaying streets of Fez. I want to wear a djellaba. I want a dog.
And just like the petals, I want to glue this feeling in place. I will go home, I will get a parking ticket, my cat will get fleas, my ATM fee will suck, my library books will be late, Larry will put his dishes in the sink instead of the dishwasher, I will get bleach on my Saturday night jeans. And it will all be over. But I dont want it to be. So I keep riding.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Sign Language
A letter from Dylan, as translated by Mommy
Re: It's so hard to be a baby!
Can you imagine what it's like? All I want is to get some food in my belly, and Mom keeps putting me down for a nap. I scream and scream, but she just tells Dad that I'm fussy. Finally, she gets the picture and plucks me from jail (aka crib). I am so releived I slap her back and she thinks I'm hugging her. Aw! Give Mommy a kiss, she orderes and I bite her cheek. She screams and I laugh. Aw, she tells Dad, he's trying to kiss me, but his little teeth keep getting in the way. She sit me in my high chair and cuts up some cucumbers. I don't want that crap. I want the baby crack, street name, Yo Baby. I'm a sucker for apple. Whole milk is da bomb, yo!
Finally, my poor little tummy stops rumbling and I can concentrate on the important part of life - finding things to put in my mouth. Of course, Mom won't let me get anything good. I pull an empty milk container out of the recycling and put it to my lips - yucky! I get a hold of Marley's toy gun and have just finagled this tiny little plastic piece off, get it on my tounge and - you'll choke! Then I see the true prize of the day - a dead cockroach in the corner. The thing is dessicated. It's mummified. It's spider food. It looks delicious! But oh, no! She nearly faints. It's about as bad as the time I found some choice ice at the park. It smelled just like doggy pee pee and I have always been so curious what that would taste like. Of course, there's no way she'd let me find out. She practically made me throw up sticking her fingers in my mouth to get it all out - so I had to bite her!
Ha Ha Ha - just let her try to potty train me!!!
Re: It's so hard to be a baby!
Can you imagine what it's like? All I want is to get some food in my belly, and Mom keeps putting me down for a nap. I scream and scream, but she just tells Dad that I'm fussy. Finally, she gets the picture and plucks me from jail (aka crib). I am so releived I slap her back and she thinks I'm hugging her. Aw! Give Mommy a kiss, she orderes and I bite her cheek. She screams and I laugh. Aw, she tells Dad, he's trying to kiss me, but his little teeth keep getting in the way. She sit me in my high chair and cuts up some cucumbers. I don't want that crap. I want the baby crack, street name, Yo Baby. I'm a sucker for apple. Whole milk is da bomb, yo!
Finally, my poor little tummy stops rumbling and I can concentrate on the important part of life - finding things to put in my mouth. Of course, Mom won't let me get anything good. I pull an empty milk container out of the recycling and put it to my lips - yucky! I get a hold of Marley's toy gun and have just finagled this tiny little plastic piece off, get it on my tounge and - you'll choke! Then I see the true prize of the day - a dead cockroach in the corner. The thing is dessicated. It's mummified. It's spider food. It looks delicious! But oh, no! She nearly faints. It's about as bad as the time I found some choice ice at the park. It smelled just like doggy pee pee and I have always been so curious what that would taste like. Of course, there's no way she'd let me find out. She practically made me throw up sticking her fingers in my mouth to get it all out - so I had to bite her!
Ha Ha Ha - just let her try to potty train me!!!
Friday, January 11, 2008
Monkey Cards
My grandfather had this collection of monkey cards. You know, post cards with monkeys in suits and fat ladies in bikinis and alligators with thought bubbles. Mostly, he liked the monkeys. When I used to go over there for a cup of tea or something, he always made me look through his collection. He died a week ago today. I asked my grandmother if I could have the collection. I'm sure no one else in the family will be vying for them.
It's sometimes hard to remember who my grandfather was before dementia took him. Even before that, he was kind of a silly old man. I liked him that way, tender at times, sentimental, and sometimes angry. He used to rail against old slights for hours at top volume.
But I can remember him before that, too, if I put my mind to it. He loved opera, turtles, the fight on tv. He loved to watch the herons swoop into the manmade lake by his rented condo in Florida. He loved to drive to nowhere. He loved fruit and nuts and my grandma's chicken soup. That's my penicilin, he'd say. He taught me to stand up for myself. He slipped me twenties when my grandma wasn't looking (when he wasn't looking, she slipped me fifties). He used to carry me on his shoulders, take his teeth out and make facees, sing "Yes, we have no bananas," and riff on his New York accent. He taught me 1,2,3, cha, cha, cha. Once, my brother and I bought temporary tatoos and made him and his neighbor Ceal apply them to their biceps. Then we all posed like street toughs.
There's another monkey in this story - my monkey, my Dylan. I am so proud that my grandfather got to be at my wedding and got to play with my son. I am grateful for the last nice day we spent together. Grandma went to a luncheon with my aunt and I babysat Poppa (that's what I called him, Poppa Joey) and the baby. I fed them their oatmeal together and then took them to the park. After just a few minutes, they both got tired and we hobbled back to Poppa's apartment, where they took a nap together. Dylan will not remember that, but we have photos, and somehow, I know it will create a germ of tenderness for him.
Boy, I loved him. What more can you say?
It's sometimes hard to remember who my grandfather was before dementia took him. Even before that, he was kind of a silly old man. I liked him that way, tender at times, sentimental, and sometimes angry. He used to rail against old slights for hours at top volume.
But I can remember him before that, too, if I put my mind to it. He loved opera, turtles, the fight on tv. He loved to watch the herons swoop into the manmade lake by his rented condo in Florida. He loved to drive to nowhere. He loved fruit and nuts and my grandma's chicken soup. That's my penicilin, he'd say. He taught me to stand up for myself. He slipped me twenties when my grandma wasn't looking (when he wasn't looking, she slipped me fifties). He used to carry me on his shoulders, take his teeth out and make facees, sing "Yes, we have no bananas," and riff on his New York accent. He taught me 1,2,3, cha, cha, cha. Once, my brother and I bought temporary tatoos and made him and his neighbor Ceal apply them to their biceps. Then we all posed like street toughs.
There's another monkey in this story - my monkey, my Dylan. I am so proud that my grandfather got to be at my wedding and got to play with my son. I am grateful for the last nice day we spent together. Grandma went to a luncheon with my aunt and I babysat Poppa (that's what I called him, Poppa Joey) and the baby. I fed them their oatmeal together and then took them to the park. After just a few minutes, they both got tired and we hobbled back to Poppa's apartment, where they took a nap together. Dylan will not remember that, but we have photos, and somehow, I know it will create a germ of tenderness for him.
Boy, I loved him. What more can you say?
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