Regarding Love:”The course of true love never did run smooth.” (Shakespeare)

No kidding.

Valentine’s Day came and went, like one of Edna St. Vincent Millay’s lovers, and while I caught glimpses of romantic love here and there, none of it was ideal, not really. No Nora Jones theme music, no pretty kisses, no perfect lipstick, no red dress. [continue reading…]

It’s Valentine’s Week; I thought I’d share Love Stories as my own tribute to the general love fest. If there is anything I believe in (and there is) it is Love. Which Love (as some of us know), is A Many Splendored Thing. Manifesting itself in endlessly, beautifully different ways.

For Instance, there is a Love Story in The Life of a Chicken.

 This is a sweet and tragic tale about a chicken named Moose, and Mozzie her sister, and the family who kept them as pets. And it really is a love story.

It comes from my Aunt Cynthia and her daughter Elle (and was felt keenly by the rest of the family), who brought Moose and Mozzie home as chicks and kept them as pets. I was visiting Cynthia when she bought the little chicken coop kit as a surprise for Elle’s birthday. Elle had been hoping for a chicken, and the coop meant that yes, she would soon be the proud owner of a chicken. I will share this story mostly in Cynthia’s words, in excerpts I’ve taken from emails she sent me as the story progressed.  Cynthia is one of my dearest friends, and since I’m in Utah and she’s in Hawaii and “doing lunch” or dropping by each other’s couches isn’t practical, we email a lot.

(photos contributed by Elle and her dad, Chad)

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It is a sad day at my house. A sick day.

Rather, one more sick day of a long series.  Frank is violently ill. Nora’s cold and cough linger. My chest burned this morning when I ventured out for a walk, and chills nagged me all day. Ez and Meisha stayed home from school, begging nausea and extra-indescribable malaise (and since they didn’t venture into the kitchen til late afternoon, I had to believe them).

Michaelyn dropped by to check in; she left early and blew a kiss goodbye. Maurya, a little disgusted at everyone’s apathy, had to get out of the house, and went to work to see if they needed her. It was all a little depressing.

And I can’t think of anything even marginally interesting (especially to me) to write about. Photo shoots await my eventual robustness (I do believe in fairies, I do, I do). My chicken love story (actually my Aunt Cynthia’s chicken love story) awaits a clearer noggin. Even humor about sick days is out of reach. I think, I type…nothing. Delete, type again…nothing. Blow my nose, make some tea, check someone’s temp…nothing.

Maurya is home again now, strumming her guitar. I should tuck in, but the melody is so sweet and haunting. Probably the nicest part of the day, barring Ezra’s kiss and Nora’s arms round my neck. I think she’s waiting up to skype with her far, faraway boyfriend. On that note, since even humor has evaded me, I will just leave a few pictures I shot the other day, before my respiratory system was compromised by snot. And…I’ll be back. Maybe tomorrow. Hopefully (for me) tomorrow.

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Tabetha at “The Closet Intellectual” challenged her blogging friends to share random facts about ourselves.  She posted hers on Thursday.  I had fun reading her post, recognizing that in at least a couple random ways, Tabetha is a kindred spirit. I’m sort of wishing we were neighbors.

Here are Mine:

Five Random Facts About Me:

Random Fact#1: I Am Not As Soft As I Look, aka, I Wish My Hair Was Red

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I Have a Cookies Recipe to Share. A Delicious Oatmeal Cookies Recipe.

Notice I didn’t write “Cookie Recipe” (just a small matter of a floating “s”); I’m saving the Cookie Recipe (singular form) for A Day That Feels Epic. A Day Befitting An Extra Special Super-Sized Cookie All By Itself. Lest your knees weaken as you glance at the wordy length of this post, the recipe is easy to find at the end. But I’d read on, if I were you. [continue reading…]

Dress Up Dress? What’s the Occasion?

Not Groundhog Day; it came and went without a handshake. Thankfully, my daughter Maurya was paying attention; she tells me that Puxatawny Phil saw his shadow; spring should be here soon.

Ah, good. Because while I love aspects of winter, I don’t know if our immune systems can hold out much longer, not to mention our ebbing reserve of endorphins. Thank you, darling.
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And speaking of spring, and Maurya…I took these pictures of Maurya last spring. Doesn’t she look happy? She was happy. We were both happy, me because she liked the dress I’d made, she because she’s basically a sweet, happy person anyway, and because she liked the dress, and because she had somewhere to go in it. Senior Cotillion I think. [continue reading…]

You Know The Story of Hansel and Gretel, Yes?

It a most fascinating fairy tale.

Not my favorite, but definitely compelling in the questions it raises. Where did the story come from? What had the storytellers seen and experienced, that they concocted such disturbing details? The Grimm brothers made Hansel & Gretel famous, but there are older variations of their story all over Europe and into Russia, with chilling commonalities in both details and themes.  Mostly, I wonder about storyteller motives. Is Hansel & Gretel a cautionary tale? Or is it instructional–a precursor to our modern self-help genre: “Make a Comeback from Medievalism: Breadcrumbs to Success in a Cold, Cruel, Cannibalistic World.” [continue reading…]