Dragonflies

Going through Gordon Grice's Cabinet of Curiousities: Collecting and Understanding the Wonders of the Natural World off and on with my three year old granddaughter, who is still a bit young for it. I learn that the immature dragonfly is called a "naiad."

Dragonfly naiads have no wings. They breathe through gills in their rear ends. When they need to move very fast to get away from a predator, they push a lot of water out of their rear ends at once and go jetting away. Basically, they propel themselves with fart power. (p 96)

I needed to know this today.

Things I should never again buy for the rest of my life...

What is kicking around in your house-- your LIFE-- that you should NOT EVER buy again?

I'll go first.

Pencils.

This is an actual photo of actual pencils that are actually in my house right now. It's a lot of pencils, right? Write!

I do still use pencils, so it might seem extreme, even though those are a lot of pencils, to state I should NEVER buy more pencils.

However, you should know:

I have at least three more unopened packs of pencils.

I have at least three more cups full of (okay, a mixture of pens and) pencils.

I have pencils in my car.

I have pencils in my purse.*

I have pencils in my computer bag.

I have pencils in drawers in the kitchen, in the living room, and in the bathroom (don't ask).

I have pencils in boxes in the basement.

I have a plethora of pencils. I have plenty** of pencils.

It is difficult for me to imagine using up all the pencils that I currently I have.

So I will not buy any more pencils.

I will, however, continue to pick up the perfectly good pencils that are left on the floors of the halls of the schools where I teach.

Waste not, want not.

*I always have at least six pencils in my purse. Unless I need a pencil. Then I have zero pencils in my purse. I do not understand this. It is always the same: zero OR more than six, with the determining factor being: do I need a pencil?


**I would like to point out that this plentiful plethora of pencils is only counting the standard pencils. Color pencils are a completely different category, and the jury is still out on whether I should allow myself to purchase more.

Gratitude

It is a difficult time for me now, on many levels.

Still, there is much to be grateful for. There are two robins' nests on my house right now. One on the front porch light (which we now are careful *not* to turn on) and one on the light for the big garage door (that "motion sensor light" has stopped working for years now. Need to fix that, post-robin season).

The first hatchlings are chirping next  to my door. The parent robins are irritated (every year) at our comings and goings out the door, yet they still return (every year) to build another nest.

It was warm enough, after work, for us to have a glass of wine on the deck before the DH headed off to a board meeting, before I headed off to meet my mom. It was warm enough, yet not too warm- the wasps stayed away, though we identified their nests.

A few days ago, I had to replace all four tires on the Bubbemobile, but I saw a deer browsing in my backyard.

At my mom's house, I saw a Baltimore oriole, so brilliant.

My lawn is vibrant with violets, dazzling with dandelions.

There are clouds, yet the sun leaks through, like promises of heaven.

There are these moments of beauty. I am grateful

"You have new notifications"

My cousin died the other day. I know because it was posted on Facebook.

It used to be that you would learn of the death of a friend or a family member from another friend or family member- a phone call was most common. Sometimes you might hear the news in person, if the deceased were especially close to you, so that the one delivering the message would be there, to offer you comfort.

Now, I learned of my cousin’s death in a post that was sandwiched between a cartoon pun and a sponsored ad for online learning.

Page down for pictures of a Friend’s latest restaurant meal and some ads to subscribe to the New York Times.

Such are the Times we live in.

Clutter could be the death of me

Stop hating on Marie Kondo, y'all. Because whatever works. Kondo could save my life. Because I'm drowning over here, I can't breathe.

My closets are crowded. My garage is bad.

My basement looks like an audition for Hoarders.

Sometimes, I go for days without thinking about it. Then, I will go into the basement, and come up spiraling down into depression.

There are objective treasures and undoubted trash stacked upon one another.

A few years ago, I was directing a show. We needed a covered dish as a prop. I said, I'll look in my basement. I brought a covered dish the next day. A day or two later, we needed a rubber chicken.  I said, I'll look in my basement. The next day, I brought the rubber chicken. We needed a wooden sword. I said, I'll look in my basement...

One of the stage managers said, I think I'd like to see this basement!

I said, No. No, you wouldn't.

No one is allowed in my basement. You have to be related to me, or I will have to kill you so that you can never reveal my shame. All of my children have significant others, so you can't marry into my family, and I've no room to bury your body. So, no, you can't go there.

It's hard to get rid of the STUFF in my basement.  There is straight up trash. There are items of value. These are mixed together so thoroughly that it's hard to pull them apart.

There are books, SO MANY BOOKS (I know, this where a bunch of haters hate on Marie, and I don't hold with the number limit on books, so I almost get it in this instance), some of which are directly connected to my heart, so they have to stay. There is furniture that is either still usable or still in use, storing decades of photos, and newspaper clippings. Some of it is furniture that I should be able to SELL, right?

There are old clothes, old costumes, old play programs, cassette tapes, vinyl records, VHS tapes, ancient boots, and knick-knacks.

There are Mothering Magazines and Mother Earth Magazines. There are TIME magazines no longer timely.

I'm DROWNING. Seriously.

I do have a plan (there's always a plan).  I'm about to embark on a new attempt to clear out my basement, and thus my life.

Pray for me.

5779: On the eighth night of Chanukah, I did not buy for you...

Last night we lit all eight candles, ushering in the last of the eight days of Chanukah.

So today, here are your last gifts.

I am not-giving you socks.

It's not because of your age.  Although, according to this chart, socks may soon bring you joy:

Anyone know who created this chart? Because I'd LOVE to give them credit!

It also is not because there are no really clever socks out there- how about these:

Make sure your pants cuffs are long enough, and/or don't cross your legs at that meeting. Unless you really want to make a statement about that meeting.

These socks also seem to call your name:

So there are appropriately inappropriate socks out there for you.  However, socks are related to stockings, which really are for a holiday in another tradition, so... no.

Also not buying you hand-wearables (I would say gloves, but if you will recall the HANDERPANTS that I did not-give you already, there is some confusion these days with what is appropriate garb for hands!).

There are hands masquerading as feet:

It is noted on the site that this is sold as a Finger Foot. Not Finger Feet-- although they declare that IF you buy two, they will probably find a left and a right Finger Foot.

Or these:

I did not scrutinize the fine print to see if you have to buy two, or if they assume you are ambi-duckstrous*

Also not buying this:

Although now, I believe we have strayed from the apparel to the a- puppet realm of gift giving. Why wouldn't I give you this delightful handicorn? Who wouldn't love a unicorn at their finger tips?

Many reasons, but two come to mind:

1. Handicorn sounds too much like candy corn, thus completely confusing a sugar holiday with a fat and carb holiday. Plus, you shouldn't chew your fingers.

2. Please note which finger is lifted to salute you with the unicorn's horn. WHAT KIND OF SALUTE IS THAT?

This does not sound like a unicorn thing to do. This is much more a cat thing to do.

Farewell until next time.

Once again, I harbor hope that I will be writing more in this blog between now and next Chanukah, but in case I don't or in case you don't read it if I do, take care of yourself and please come back and read me next time!

_____________________________


* Not apologizing. Why do you expect it? HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING?

5779: On the seventh night of Chanukah, I did not buy for you...

I was SO CLOSE to actually posting each day of Chanukah on the actual DAY.

The seventh day was my downfall.

Here is what I fully intended not-giving you on day seven of Chanukah:

Snacks.

The festival of lights is the FEASTival of fried! We celebrate oil! We make lotsa-latkes! We fry up some sufganiyot (that's hot jelly donuts, my friend!). We eat chocolate gelt (gold foil wrapped around chocolate so it looks like MONEY!-- I have no idea why this is a thing, somebody help me out here, but it is definitely a thing!).

So we eat. But not these things:

I found assorted gums with clever titles: I hope eye rolling counts as cardio gum, I’m sorry I called you an asshole—I thought you knew gum, I have PMS & GPS: I’m a bitch and I WILL find you gum, I’m not sarcastic I’m just mean gum, cat butt gum—

Okay, that last one wasn’t especially clever, but you get the idea. These are just GUM with labels*.

You are a creative guy. You can label your own gum. 

Also not buying you these:

 

Or these:

Snacks, yes. But do these say Chanukah to you? Chanukah is fats (all that oil!) and carbs (all those potatoes!). Don't let the cheddar cheese or the sour cream & onion fool you-- these are protein snacks**!  

Besides, how would you know if you were crunching an ordinary cricket, or your conscience, by Jiminy?!?

Nope. 

I did consider these mints, though.

However, the timing is all wrong. You are far too young for Retiremints; and let's face it, Atonemints are more properly offered at Yom Kippur.

I hope you had a happy seventh day of Chanukah!

 ______________

*At least, I HOPE cat butt gum is just regular gum with a label saying cat butt!

**I know this because when I was substitute teaching, I taught a science class to fourth graders about eating bugs. "BUG BITES. Earth Science News for kids in Scholastic News."