I don't know why he swallowed a fly

After counting four flies in the room, I decided it was time to go on the hunt. Jar in hand, I set out to capture them to feed the frog. As I was stalking a particularly juicy looking blue bottle fly, Bear interrupted:

Mom, that part where the wing connects to the fly is pretty yucky, but the rest of it is actually pretty good.

"Uh." I started. "Hmmm," I went on. "Ahh," I finally concluded.

Because just how do you respond to a statement like that? Obviously, the boy has eaten a fly. Not only eaten a fly, but savored it bit by bit and appreciated the fine subtleties of its various parts.

But the boy won't touch mashed potatoes. Maybe I should season them with flies next time.

The music of my youth distracts from the duties of the moment

Over the weekend, I rediscovered Pandora. Thinking I'd put myself together a little station to keep me motivated through hours of housework in preparation for an open house, I signed in to my account. It started off simply enough. I sat and stared at the screen, wondering what on earth to enter in the little box.

I drew a complete blank. Until a song popped into my head: Runaway Train by Soul Asylum (graphic images). One of my favorite songs back in high school. In fact, I think Grave Dancers Union was the first CD I bought when I got back from Germany.

Well, that brought back memories. Like Little Miss Can't Be Wrong (mild profanity...or did he say witch? I'm sure he said witch...).

And next thing I knew, time had passed. A lot of it with nothing done but me entering random songs and bands I could remember from my high school and college days. So maybe I got a little behind on Mount Laundry. I found out that I can still sing along with Fast Car! I remember singing along on the bus while everyone else argued whether Tracy Chapman was a girl or a boy.

After What I Am came out, I decided I wanted to be like Edie Brickell. OK, maybe not. I wasn't much into that sort of thing, but I loved the song, her voice, everything. I don't remember any other song on the CD. I'm sure I listened to them all at some point, but mostly I remember playing that one. Over and over and over.

Almost as often as The Chain (Listen to the wind blow...) I had the album. Yes, the album! I had a turntable in my room with floorstanding speakers, one of the benefits of having a father obsessed with stereos. He even built his own amp, but that is neither here nor there. Anyway, I used to look at the Rumors album cover, wondering what the point was. I totally got the phallic imagery, but why? The main difference between Fleetwood Mac and Edie Brickell being that I listened to all of Rumors. Over and over and over.

Then there was that weird band. I was in college, working at Subway when I first heard Peaches. There was something about a band that sang about eating canned peaches. . .and cats (yowsers! What's with the language? That was not in the radio version I first heard!) They never induced me to purchase a CD, but I did enjoy them on the radio. Maybe that's why I like TISM (uh...mature theme?). So. . .existential?

Funny to rediscover that song now, shortly after Michael Jackson's death. And what's with the masks, you ask? What can you expect from a band that considers itself postmodern but has found pop to be more profitable? There are rumors out there that they are really the Wiggles, but for professional reasons don't want anyone to know.

So, uh, yeah. That's the kind of stuff I listened to. Way different from what I listen to now. My CD shelf is filled with things like Colin Buchanan. And Mr. Henry. Late at night, I play things like Vivaldi.

OK, so I probably played Beethoven's 9th more than all my other CDs combined back when I was in school, but I didn't go and stick it in my play list. Because I still listen to stuff like that. It isn't buried in the recesses of my mind to be regurgitated when I start unblocking my memories of high school.

Anyway. . .

Um. . .

Never mind.

Care to share your musical interests from former lives?

(And I did eventually make it to the top of Mount Laundry, and we had two parties come through for the open house!)

Gardening before and after

Or at least before and most-of-the-way-through.

I've been wanting to do something with this garden for some time. It used to be a wildflower garden, but that was back when I couldn't tell the difference between a seedling and a weedling. OK, so not much has changed since then in my gardening abilities. I seeded most of the neighborhood with the collection of weeds that came out of that attempt and all I got out of it was a single purple cone flower that took hold and refused to be bullied by the weeds.

I have loved purple cone flower ever since.

(Click on the picture for a better look.)

After that, it became my bird feeding station. And it was a lovely spot for it right outside the bedroom window and right outside the sunroom window. We'd watch birds for hours. Unfortunately, that got to be a bit of an expensive hobby and we gave it up. The black oil sunflower, however, did not. Hence the sunflower mess. The pen is for the chickens. I gave them a section to tear up in preparation for my plans.

Here's a better picture of them for those of you who read often enough to remember what they looked like when we brought them home:


Anyway, I've wanted to do something with this garden for a long time. Then I fell in love with the free garden plans at Better Homes & Gardens, and spent a little too much time browsing all the plans.

One hundred dollars and several hours later, I have this:

(Click on the picture for a better look.)

The trees at the front still have to be moved to their permanent homes so I can plant the ornamental grass, the salvia and whatever that stuff is called I chose because they were out of alyssum. I left a small patch of sunflower, because I really do like the sunflower. Just not quite that many in one place. I think I even found my purple cone flower in the mess. Then the kids placed stones in the bird bath bowl for the butterflies to stand on, and I thought the stand by itself made a pretty addition to the garden.

I can't wait to see what it looks like when it has had a chance to grow in a little.

I doubt it looks much like the picture, but flowers and butterflies are pretty either way.

I think I've been bitten by a tsetse fly

Or something. My days are filled with excessive sleepiness. Not exhaustion, really. Just like I really need a nap. I sit down and begin to doze. I lie down to nurse the baby and am asleep before he is. I went to bed shortly after the children two nights in a row, and it seems to be getting worse rather than better.

Maybe I need to stay up until two or three tonight just to get back on track. Maybe then I'll be able to finally wake up.

Sleeping certainly doesn't seem to be getting me anywhere at the moment.

Waging war in my garden

I used to love watching cabbage moths dance about our yard. Their playful flutter was like a ballet in the air.

Then I discovered the first holes in my cabbages and their dance looked less playful.

My brussels sprouts were devoured and their flutter began to look downright menacing.

I've gone over and over my poor, dear, helpless little plants and though the holes seem to multiply before my eyes, I'm yet to find a single caterpillar. I've taken to herding the chickens through the garden a couple times a day in the hope that they will devour what I have missed.

I've waged war on the little buggers and I'm telling you at this point I'd sooner watch my chickens tear up the cabbages in pursuit of a dust bath than watch the leaves slowly disappear to my invisible foe.

I think the next adult I see will find itself in the terrarium. With the frog.

A mouse and a book

My daughter is sitting behind me as I type reading a book. A book I recommended to her. This is huge, people. Huge enough to share with the world. Huge enough to postpone dishes . . . bedtime, even, though it is already 10:42 PM.

(Oops. Maybe I shouldn't admit that, especially since I didn't really notice until I checked just now so I could share the time.)

See, this sweet child is a little too much like her mother and that independent spirit is a bit too strong at times. Not that independence is a bad thing all on its own. It is the one reason I don't worry about her as much as I do my younger children. I know that no one will ever make her do anything she doesn't want to.

It's just that if mom recommends something, the recommendation is met with a shoulder shrug and suddenly she'd sooner read Bug's Dora the Explorer books than any book mom said she might like.

When I recommended Nancy Drew, I may as well have handed her The Federalist Papers. OK, so I like The Federalist Papers. I'm weird like that and hope she will be someday, too, but it is probably a bit much for a ten year old.

Who am I kidding? This child drags out Annals of the War and reads it when she doesn't have a good book about horses. Of course, that is because I told her last year that she wasn't old enough to understand it and she has set out to prove me wrong.

See how these recommendations work?

At any rate, a friend of hers mentioned something about Nancy Drew and suddenly we are looking at the online catalogs of the local library system to try to read every single one of them in order. Oh why did they have to come out with that silly movie? It has revitalized Lincoln's interest in the young sleuth and they are all checked out almost all the time.

It was just checked in! It was just checked in! We have to go to the library now, mom!

Now maybe she actually does remember that mom recommended Nancy Drew first and thus has let down her guard a little. Maybe it is because there is a dog on the cover and she needs some book about dogs to review for her e-zine. I don't know . . . and confess I don't really care.

She's reading Cracker! because her mom said she might like it.

Wow, does a lot change in a week

I didn't even realize it had been that long since I posted. Last week was soooo crazy trying to get ready to close on the house.

And then, just as it was coming together, everything fell through. The house was in worse condition than the bank had realized, we weren't going to be able to get the terms we needed and we had to walk away.

It was a strange sort of feeling. A sense of loss over something that was never really ours. A dream that slipped away, though hopefully only postponed a little.

So now we're just waiting and hoping and praying for our house to sell. Then, I guess, we'll just see.