Hello Hello

Saturday, February 28, 2015

Laundry list

Harris Teeter, Whitaker Square

stuffs to look at this weekend...

My medium? Butter, bacon, cheese, and other tasty foodstuffs

¡Cholitas!

Step One: borrow someone else's husband

The first slavery museum in America
The memorial had lately become a source of controversy among locals, who were concerned that it would be too disturbing. “It is disturbing,” Cummings said as he pulled out past Whitney’s gate. “But you know what else? It happened. It happened right here on this road.”
Marital advice from Ogden Nash

How a book club is keeping ex-offenders out of jail

Phoebe, the Flat-Coat (Forsyth County Animal Control) update: Adopted!
Character is a primary and outstanding asset of the Flat-Coat. He is a responsive, loving member of the family, a versatile working dog, multi-talented, sensible, bright and tractable. In competition the Flat-Coat demonstrates stability- and a desire to please with a confident, happy and outgoing attitude characterized by a wagging tail. 
 source: Flat-Coated Retriever Society of America

THE chicken schnitzel recipe

Why I will never move to Florida

Monday, February 23, 2015

Faster, slower

Leaving a funeral at Mt. Tabor yesterday, I reminded the oldest that we still had to do the grocery shopping. He immediately asked if we could go to Harris Teeter rather than Food Lion.

It will be faster, Mom.

No, no it won't.

Of course it will. It's right here. Please, Mom.

I sighed, then acquiesced.

Fine.

An hour later, he realized that it was not faster, that it was in fact markedly slower, that Sunday afternoon shopping at Harris Teeter is a social experience loosely framed around an activity, much like attendance at the Kiwanis Pancake Jamboree.

And he considered grousing but then decided to make the most of the fact that friends and strangers alike were tickled by his somber attire. When an acquaintance told him he looked like he stepped out of a magazine, he immediately began searching out empty aisles, then striking poses while holding terrible products. An older gentleman's request that my too-tall-too-soon son reach a package of crackers on the top shelf became the opening for the Cracker Butler, a new persona, and the oldest bowed his head ever so slightly as he passed the crackers.

Ninety minutes in found me chit-chatting away with my dearest neighbor, and the oldest began amusing himself by sneaking insane items into the cart which went undiscovered until the checkout, where he laughingly pointed out the carted oddities.

And then, finally, we were done.

Put back the cart, please.

Two hours, Mom. Two hours.

I know. I'm sorry.

It's OK. I had fun.

And in one last burst of childhood, he pushed off and rode the cart to the outside corral, where he joyfully crashed it into place.





Saturday, February 21, 2015

Laundry list



stuffs to look at this weekend...

School lunches from around the world

Happy birthday, but you have completely screwed us up

On saving a child:
“Ms. Fatu. I will never forget you. You were the first person besides my mom who looked at me and saw something good,” Trotter told her.
The Atlas of Beauty 

Sheep! Ram! GOAT.

The Better Life Index

Add a little Zig to your life (Rockingham County Shelter) update: adopted!

"Confederate registration is closed."


Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Not so much a fan


Salsa is trying to remember why she ever liked snow. She did once. She just doesn't anymore.

(It's OK, Salsa. Come inside where it is warm.)

I am hopeful the schools will open tomorrow.

update: denied.

Monday, February 16, 2015

On being out-of-doors in the snow on a Monday

Dust of Snow

BY ROBERT FROST
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree


Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

(Pip)squeak


George has taken up the violin. Only he would prefer it to be referred to as the fiddle, and he wishes the charming young lady who leads the weekly small group lesson at his school would hurry along and get to "The Devil Went Down to Georgia". Instead he is suffering through "Twinkle Twinkle", and frankly so are we.

Here is two years younger, small boy voice George* getting his uke devil on:



*Gah, I miss my baby. I turned around, and he grew up. Horrible.

Sunday, February 08, 2015

Laundry List


stuffs to look at this fine afternoon...

You ate the pancakes, but where does the money go?

Holy parental overreaction, Batman

Can this school ever be made safe?

Cat that looks like a member of the band KISS (Forsyth County Animal Shelter) - adopted!

Fast but not fast food: the menu at PDQ, which just opened its first Winston location on Stratford

These young people are ruining the English language

Powerlessness:
"But mostly I think of the birth mother who doesn’t want to meet me. How scared she must be. How alone she must feel. What a leap of faith she is taking. She is preparing to send her tiny daughter out into the world with the hope that all will be well. I filled out papers and wrote letters and got a home study and I hoped and I dreamed, but she is doing all the work. She is surrendering a piece of her soul to the universe and hoping for the best."
I hated everything about America until I moved here

Wednesday, February 04, 2015

Love

My goodness but Deweys at Thruway has upped the cake artistry recently. Not shown: the stained glass looking stunners.

Tuesday, February 03, 2015

Ladybug, ladybug


I almost didn't go teach art after work today. I have been feeling... not OK the last few days, and so when another parent texted me this morning with a kind offer to lead art today, I readily agreed. Then I immediately backed down, saying if that parent could just come assist, I would be there. Then I promptly kicked myself for not letting go, not letting someone else do instead of me.

But if I had not taught art today, I wouldn't have been able to watch one of George's classmates make the above, seen him concentrate and still his body, repeatedly look to the example laybug, ink his finger and slowly press it down, heard him count one-two-three-four-five-six as he added dots. He wouldn't have brought me his card at the end to show me, and I wouldn't have seen that swarm of happy, yellow ladies all heading east.

And that would have been a shame, because those bugs bring me indescribable joy. So too those sweet kids.