The cat is sleeping on the top of the big leather sofa chair I'm sitting on. She has had a long day--Mary has left and she has followed Nathan and me around all afternoon. I tried to fill in, but after trying to snuggle with her, she kind of gave up and just went to sleep. The soft grey ripples in her fur remind me of the soft grey-purple flutter of the Ruellia tweediana blossoms that are now (three days later) silk-thin, edge-flared triangles between the pages of an old telephone book which is resting beneath three dozen of the Eyewitness volumes that I refuse to part with . . . even though they are definitely not books that I would sit down and spend the afternoon with. I have given away a few duplicates that I've somehow acquired, but {like the "Nine Bowls of Soup" ichthyosaur} I "can't break up the set." And every now and again, Nathan will pull a stack of them into his room and spend a month going slowly back through his favorites.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Down on the Flowers
The cat is sleeping on the top of the big leather sofa chair I'm sitting on. She has had a long day--Mary has left and she has followed Nathan and me around all afternoon. I tried to fill in, but after trying to snuggle with her, she kind of gave up and just went to sleep. The soft grey ripples in her fur remind me of the soft grey-purple flutter of the Ruellia tweediana blossoms that are now (three days later) silk-thin, edge-flared triangles between the pages of an old telephone book which is resting beneath three dozen of the Eyewitness volumes that I refuse to part with . . . even though they are definitely not books that I would sit down and spend the afternoon with. I have given away a few duplicates that I've somehow acquired, but {like the "Nine Bowls of Soup" ichthyosaur} I "can't break up the set." And every now and again, Nathan will pull a stack of them into his room and spend a month going slowly back through his favorites.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
I Leave for DC on Thursday
Friday, July 2, 2010
Funny, Funny Mother
The poem below is a piece that I remember my mom reading at a church Christmas party when I was still in grade school. I had tried googling/yahooing it several times--assuming that she had probably found it in a humorous collection somewhere. BUT I found her original, typed copy in among a box full of pictures. It is too good to keep to myself.
SEE MOTHER. FUNNY, FUNNY MOTHER.
See Mother. See Mother laugh. Mother is happy.
Mother is happy about Christmas.
Mother has many plans. Mother has many plans for Christmas.
Mother is organized. Mother smiles all the time.
Funny, Funny Mother.
See Mother. See Mother smile. Mother is happy.
The shopping is all done. See the children watch TV.
Watch children watch.
See the children change their minds.
See them ask Santa for different toys.
Look, Look, Mother is not smiling.
Funny, Funny Mother.
See Mother. See Mother sew.
Mother will make dresses.
Mother will make robes.
Mother will make shirts.
See Mother put the zipper in wrong.
See Mother sew the dress on the wrong side.
See Mother cut the skirt too short.
See Mother put the material away until January.
Look, Look. See Mother take a tranquilizer.
Funny, Funny Mother.
See Mother buy raisins and nuts.
See Mother buy candied pineapple and powdered sugar.
See Mother buy flour and dates and pecans and brown sugar and bananas and spices and vanilla.
Look, Look, Mother is mixing everything together.
See the children press cut cookies.
See the flour on their elbows.
See the cookies burn. See the cake fall.
See the children pull taffy. See Mother pull her hair.
See Mother clean the kitchen with the garden hose.
Funny, Funny Mother.
See Mother. See Mother wrap presents.
See Mother look for the other end of the scotch tape roll.
See Mother bite her finger mails.
See Mother go.
See Mother go to the store 12 times in one hour.
Go, Mother, go.
See the faraway look in Mother’s eyes.
Mother has become disorganized.
Mother has become disoriented.
Funny, Funny Mother.
It is finally Christmas morning. See the happy family.
See Father smile.
Father loves the fruitcake.
Father loves the Christmas pudding.
Father loves all the new neckties.
Look, Look, See the happy children.
Santa was very good to the children.
The children will remember this Christmas.
See Mother. Mother is slumped in a chair.
Mother is crying uncontrollably.
Mother does not look well.
Mother has ugly dark circles under her bloodshot eyes.
Everyone helps Mother to bed.
See Mother sleep quietly under sedation.
See Mother smile.
Funny, Funny Mother.
Written and performed by Nancy Kathleen Burton Wagstaff
Probably in the late 1960s or early 1970s while we lived in Minnesota.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Birthday Creation from my Lauren
I turned 51 this month and Lauren made this cut-work card for me. It was way too incredible to relegate to a page of my scrapbook--so I framed it. I will put it up with the other artwork that her dad, sister and brother (and she) have already fashioned. She also wove me a basket, accented in purple, and so I'll hang the two of them together.Saturday, June 12, 2010
How Important It Is to Be Ernest CEW Hendry Megan CH Rytting Re-write MD April 2010
How Important It Is to Be Ernest
CEW Hendry
Megan CH Rytting
Re-write MD April 2010
Once upon a time, there lived a very young, very handsome mouse named Ernest.
He had a mother, a father, a brother named Sam and a sister named Rachael-Lin.
Ernest was good at telling jokes. He was good at climbing trees and he had his own tree house.
No one in his family could run faster or sing louder than he could.
Everyone in his family had chores to do every day.
Ernest was in charge of watering the house plants and bringing in the mail. He was in charge of putting the plates and spoons on the table at supper time.
Ernest did a pretty good job of remembering to do his chores all by himself.
His brother and sister and mother and father also had chores that they did. Everyone helped to get the work done.
When Ernest turned 3½ years old, he decided that he didn’t like the jobs that he was supposed to do. He began to notice the things his family did. He watched his brother weed the garden and pick carrots for the family to eat. He saw how his sister patched the hole in his pants and sewed a new shirt for him to wear. He watched as his father painted a new shelf for the kitchen and washed the family car.
He saw the jobs that his family did . . . and did not do his own chores.
Ernest’s mother noticed that the plants in the kitchen began to die. She found letters from the mailbox dropped all over the hallway floor.
At dinner one night, every one sat down to eat—but there were no plates or spoons to eat with! Ernest’s mother asked him why he did not do his chores and he told her that only mouse-lings did dumb jobs like water the plants and bring in the mail. He told his family that he didn’t like doing his chores. He wanted to do big mouse jobs--jobs that were important!
They all talked about it and decided that on Monday, Ernest would trade chores with Sam; on Tuesday he would trade chores with Rachael-Lin; and on Wednesday he would trade jobs with his father.
After lunch on Monday, Ernest was in charge of weeding the garden. Sam showed him which plants were weeds and which plants were carrots. He gave Ernest a pail to put the weeds in. Then Sam went inside to water the house plants.
It was hot outside! Ernest pulled a weed. He pulled up another. He sat down on the ground and rested for a while. He reached over to pull on the next weed—but it wouldn’t budge! He reached for the next plant. It came up easily with a small “pop”! Ernest looked down at it—and then he looked at the weeds already in the pail.
It wasn’t a weed. It was a carrot!
Ernest tried to push it back down into the ground, but it wouldn’t go. He looked up all around him. It seemed like he was in a forest of weeds. He tried to pull up another weed—but it stuck fast in the ground.
Sam saw Ernest sitting in the garden and walked over to him. Ernest held up the carrot and gave it to Sam.
Then he went and climbed up into his tree house and lay on his back, watching the clouds and feeling sad.
On Tuesday, Ernest was in charge of sewing buttons on the new shirt that Rachael-Lin had just made for him to wear. She showed him how to thread a needle. She got out the buttons for the new shirt. She told him how to sew on a button: the needle went in the front and out the back. Next, the needle went in the back and came out the front. She handed Ernest the needle and thread and then she went down to put the plates and spoons on the table for supper.
Ernest got all the buttons off the table. He picked up the needle with its long trail of red thread. He put the shirt on the floor and placed a button on the front of the shirt. Then he began to sew. He pushed the needle in the front, through the button hole and down through the cloth. He turned the shirt over to find the needle so that he could pull it out the back. He could not find the needle. He looked at the front of the shirt again. He couldn’t find the needle there, either. He picked up the shirt and shook it. The needle fell out and onto the floor. Now he had the needle, but he couldn’t find the button. He pulled on the needle, but the thread was in a big knot—it would not come out. Ernest picked up the shirt and saw the button rolled away.
Ernest went to look for the button. He held on to the needle as he walked across the floor. The shirt dragged after him, pulled by the big knot of red thread. Rachael-Lin came to check on Ernest and saw him looking for the button. He looked up as she came into the room. He held up the needle, the shirt swinging from the knot of red thread. He gave it to her and he walked outside.
Then, he went and climbed up into his tree house and lay on his back, watching the leaves, and feeling sad.
The next day was Wednesday and Ernest was in charge of washing the car. His father showed him where the sponge and the soap were kept. He got out the special window cleaner for Ernest to use and gave him the bucket to hold the soapy water for washing the car. Then, his father went to get the mail.
Ernest went and got the hose and turned it. He began to put water into the bucket with the soap. The water came out so fast! Ernest ran back to turn the water off. By the time he got back, the bucket had over-flowed and there were suds everywhere!
Ernest got the sponge and got it soapy. He washed the bumpers. He washed the tires. He got a stool and climbed up on the hood of the car so that he could wash the top of the car. Ernest began to rub the sponge across the top of the front window, but he started to slip! He was falling! He grabbed for something to keep him from sliding off of the front of the car. He felt something . . . the windshield wiper came off in his paw! He rolled softly off the hood of the car and into the bucket of suds.
Ernest crawled out of the bucket. He looked at the windshield wiper he held in his paw. He looked at the ground, all covered with piles of creamy, foamy suds. Ernest looked up to see his dad standing by the car. He held up the windshield wiper and gave it to his father.
Then he went and climbed up into his tree house and lay on his back, watching the birds, and feeling sad.
Ernest spent a lot of time in his tree house that week. He watched the clouds changing shape. He saw a mother and a daddy bird bring food to the babies in their nest. He felt the wind as it blew some leaves off the branches. He noticed how, on other branches, there were new leaves starting to grow.
Ernest thought about the things that had happened that week.
It was important to keep the weeds out of the garden. But it was also important to take care of the plants inside the house.
It was important to have new clothes ready to wear. But it was also important to have the table ready when the family sat down to eat.
It was important to wash the car and take care of the things the family needed. But it was also important to make sure that the family got to read the letters that came in the mail.
His family had important jobs—but so did he.
That night, Ernest told his family that he didn’t need to do their jobs; he already had important jobs to do.
The next morning, he woke up early and watered the plants. He filled the watering can and watered the fern by the kitchen window. He looked and saw four, tiny, curled leaves just coming up out of the soil. Around each of these sprouts, Ernest dripped water slowly and watched it settle into the soil. When he was done watering the plants, he put the watering can away in the hall closet.
Ernest went into the kitchen and got down five plates. He stood on his father’s chair and put a plate on the table. Then he put a plate on the table for his mom, for Sam and for Rachael-Lin. Last of all, he put a plate on the table in the place where he sat. He went to the drawer and counted five spoons and five forks. He placed a spoon on one side of each plate. The forks went on the other side. Ernest got five cups from the shelf and put one by each plate. When he finished, he looked at the table—it looked very nice.
Skipping down the hall and outside, Ernest went out to the mailbox. There were four pieces of mail inside of it: a letter for his mother, a letter for his dad, a paper advertising a sale on strawberries at the market—and a magazine for him! It was a science magazine with pictures about fish that lived in the sea. He carried the mail into the house and placed it carefully on his mom’s desk in the family room.
Then, he went outside. He climbed up into his tree house and sat in the sun, reading about fish and about the ocean in his magazine.
Friday, May 14, 2010
THREE: Come Home to Roost
The three Wagstaff girls: Carolyn, Susan, and Martha. Dresses that Mom made. Sitting on the front steps of Grandma Burton's home in Star Valley, WY. The start of the tradition of THREE.