#whimsh 4.Write an ESSAY or a STORY based on the following picture by @seedsower

What children need: light, rain, trees and someone to hold hands with.

Light: Sunlight, of course, to be outside and feel the sun on their skin. That good Vitamin D stuff.  Just to be.  But more than sunlight.  They need to have light- to know that someone cares about them more than anything.  They need to see light.  It needs to be there at the turn of a switch or the strike of a match.  Or a smile on someone’s face. I’m thinking of that special light that Frodo carried for those darkest places.  We all need that kind of light. 

Rain: Puddles are fun to play in.  Raindrops are soft on the skin.  Mudpies and splashing and sliding down slippery hills. Singing in the rain with Fred Astaire. But beyond that, life can’t be too easy.  The idea that you can have anything you want whenever you want it can be as damaging to a kid as having nothing.  Sometimes a little reminder that one is not the center of the universe, is all that is needed.  Sticking your tongue out in the rain singing the only Barney song worth singing.  If all the raindrops were lemon drops and gum drops, oh what a rain that would be. Rainy days and Mondays make weekends worth waiting for.

Trees: Something to look up to in wonder.  Climbing far above the ground.  Something steady but not quite perfectly safe.  Oxygen.  Beauty. Firewood.  Bark to skin knees on the way down. A limb to go out on.  A faraway tippytop to aspire to.  To marvel at an acorn or one of those maple helicopters and believe that somehow that little marvel becomes a tree.  To see the slow progress as a sapling reaches for the sky.  To see the passage of time in the rings.  To know that left to its own devices, a tree stands through wind and rain.  It stands true. 

Holding hands:  There is so much more to life when holding someone’s hand.  Crossing a street for safety.  Red rover, red rover.  Holding someone in. Keeping someone out.  Contact.  Running headlong into trouble with a best friend.  Holding hands with your partner.  I think we’re meant to be close to others. 

We’re all children. And I’m not entirely sure that the items in question must be physically present.  I can remember the feeling of light and the scent of rain and the awesomeness of trees and sometimes I feel like I’m holding hands with people I’ve never met.

Note to self: don’t work on something for days, you don’t have that kind of staying power. 

Glazed my goodies earlier this week.  Since @songoftheheart wanted to know.  I’m trying not to be disappointed.  My leaves are blue.  You can’t tell.  Spouseman said “what are you going to do with that?”  I have no idea. 

I’m bummed I made the green so dark and that you just can’t tell what I was going for.  Sigh.  On the other hand, it was fun and it’s cool enough. 

Happy Friday.

#whimsh 52. Write a PROSE POEM incorporating lice, ice, mice, dice, and Christ.

Ice ice baby remembered from a song of youth. Do you remember when Ice T was on law and order? You’re as cold as ice. Don’t break the ice. That stupid red hammer clanging against plastic. Tink tink tink.

When all the through the house, not a creature was stirring not even a mouse.  And the mice were all snuggled in their beds while visions of a baby Christ danced through their heads. And she wonders when Christmas got so commercialized.  Was it so when she was a child?  She didn’t care then, she rolled the dice and moved her mice.  And wondered why the Christmas stash never seemed to stack up to her friends’ stashes.  She hated the first days after Christmas when all the talk was of what did you get for Christmas.  Greedy girl she was upon reflection but still.  Are they greedy?  Not so much thank goodness.  Is that because they are loving angels.  Or because they are pretty well spoiled.  Probably the first.  Love will conquer all. Even lice. 

Now her head itches.

Random: spouseman called that a whole heap of crazy. my children are listening to something that sounds like a mourning dove and a rice shaker. your mileage may vary.

The other day I was at work studying the little terrariums we made for our monarch caterpillars.  Cleaning up caterpillar poop has been one of my current joys.  Actually it doesn’t bother me anymore.  In any case, this whole thing is fascinating stuff. 

Retrospective section:  Spawn’s first grade teacher was huge into the butterfly movement.  Like an expert somehow.  Anyhow the first day of first grade, I walked into the room with her and her teacher was completely going gaga over a caterpillar making the “j” which she said she had never seen happen before.  Pretty impressive first experience in first grade.  My LLO is majorly into bugs and we’ve had caterpillars several times at home.  At home, I can ignore the whole scene.  Or perhaps I was ignoring everything at that time.  Who knows.  Every other year the primary division at school gets caterpillar eggs, takes care of the caterpillars, watches the whole metamorphosis, identifies the monarchs (ladies and gents), tags and lets them go.  Gotta go gotta go gotta go to Mexico.  This is my second time with that.

Anyhow, the fat juicy caterpillars seem to like to do their trick on the netting at the top of the terrarium.  So the other day I was trying to decide whether the caterpillar crawling on the netting was thinking about doing the “j” thing just for me or just taking a stroll.  So I watched.  What I noticed (which makes perfect sense now that I think about it) was that the movement action starts from the end.  The back legs scootch up first.  Then the next back and so on until the head gets moving where it wants to go.  The ripple action completes before the next step is taken.  The caterpillar gets where he’s going when he gets there.  I didn’t get to see any of them do the “j” thing, but here’s one who is just hanging around.

Here’re the two I was watching walk around the day before.

Of course in nature, they aren’t going to do their trick on some netting.  This guy probably is more like what happens.

I didn’t see him at first and almost rocked his little world.  Check out that little black mess at the top.  It’s the caterpillar legs!  LLO told me that of course they do that.  But I’d never seen it. Never even wondered where the legs went.  Butterflies are a magical mystery to me and disappearing legs seemed the least of it.  But there they are. And something else I never thought about.  The cocoon is green for a reason.  The green seemed as strange to me as the gold rim.  It’s clear that the green color makes perfect sense. (That leaf being milkweed, just in case you were wondering.)  Monarch caterpillars eat a lot of it.

So here I am. Newly aware of the world around me.  And I have reflections and connections to make from the awareness.  First of all, a change in direction starts from the small end.  It really takes small steps and the parts working together to get something moving in the direction you want.  Leadership in the world of caterpillars has nothing to do with the head dragging everyone else along.  Secondly, you are your environment.  Monarch caterpillars have an excellent reason to eat milkweed.  It makes them bitter and keeps them safe.  And really they have no choice, they were designed that way.  And I will just leave it at that. 

“The human mind is embedded in the cosmic field, the energy flowing in that field is flowing in the human mind, in the human brain, in the history of the culture and of the language.  That culture, that language, that mind, that brain, these minds and these brains are all connected in space and time with everything that ever was, that is now, and that will be.” (Supervision: A Redefinition Sergiovanni, Starratt p. 73)

I was surprised to read this. I am surprised most that a textbook writer would put this philosophy in ink on a page.  The second surprise is more personal:   I have been exploring the concept of individual’s connections with other individuals more deeply than I have in the past and have been discovering the individual’s connection to the universe, but hadn’t connected the two concepts as Sergiovanni has.  This connection changes everything.  Sergiovanni’s hypothetical teacher really makes the two necessary points: knowledge must be used to improve people’s lives and we do not have the moral option to choose not to learn.

I have issues with the government regulations on teachers (what teacher doesn’t?) mostly because the government has that bureaucratic supervisor viewpoint that teachers will only teach as effectively as they are forced to.  I disagree with this attitude.  Many of the teachers I know are teachers because they want to improve people’s lives.  I’m sure of this, even though it’s never been stated.  I can observe how they interact with students to identify their motivation.  What would happen if the government accepted this philosophy? Got its grubby mitts out of education all together.  Let education professionals do what they do best and know best. 

Furthermore, what would happen if the government stopped mandated standardized testing?  This is a huge question to me.  Standardized testing improves the lives of very few people.  Certainly not students and teachers and parents.   What if the time wasted on test preparation and test taking was spent learning about the universe?  Standardized testing has the similar assumption that students won’t learn unless they are forced to.  Anyone who has worked with 1^st graders (as I do) can assure the government that you cannot force a 6 year old to learn anything they aren’t motivated to learn and you cannot stop a 6 year old from exploring something they want to learn about.  Who can say that a 10 year might not be exactly the same way?  Or a 16 year old?  Or a college student?

And really, I could easily walk this little piece about knowledge and moral options over the political arena.  Because don’t professional politicians have a moral obligation to do what’s right?  To improve people’s lives?  I just don’t see how their agenda is for the betterment of anyone beyond themselves.  I could be wrong about that.  I have not fulfilled my moral option to learn about economics and government and so on.  I don’t trust our government and I used to.  I think my little rose-colored glasses used to include presidents and governors and judges.  Not anymore.  And that’s a sad situation to me.

I know I probably sound like an idealistic 12 year old.  I’m all grown up.  I’d just rather believe the best of people than the worst.  And that’s that.

Here’s my booty drawer from the High School Homecoming Parade.  My LLO is the best.

It’s almost amusing how complicated I’m making things right now.

I just spent a good 20 minutes trying to find THIS SONG because… it’s raining.  I actually was looking for something that says something about a Tuesday as well, because it’s that also.  In case you and your calendar are not communicating.  I’d like to skip Tuesday.  Isn’t that awful?  There’s a churchy gig I’ve been involved with for 9 years.  Goodness.  That must be right.  Spawn started when she was in 1st grade and now she’s in 10th.  My brain isn’t working so great today.  In case I make less sense than usual. Maybe I’m tired of it.  Because I don’t drop ‘em off.  I may dump people at assorted places now.  But not at this one.  Anyhow.  I don’t have class tonight, I should be happy. I get to sing with kids.  I think we’re playing in dirt or something.  Haven’t figured out yet.  I don’t have to cook dinner. And then I get to play bells (which I didn’t get to do last year because of class.)  So I shouldn’t be whining.

And it doesn’t matter that it’s raining either.

And it doesn’t matter that LLO is back to surly to bed, surly to rise.  It appears that she didn’t miss the bus this morning.  Shocking.  I think that she is caught up on homework.  I know that her attitude about doing it is better.  I think it’s amusing that she asks me where she left her hairbrush, but she’s brushing her hair at all which is a very nice change.  So maybe we’ve conquered the beginning of middle school.  And I’m not sitting here waiting for the next thing on that. I think I’ve finally chased away that negativity that was hanging over my head.  (Thank goodness.  Don’t like that girl.)

On the other hand, Spawn is probably revving up for drama.  She’s home sick.  Again.  4th week of school.  Yikes.  This was a habit last year.  She’d have something to do (a paper of some sort was what she mentioned on Sunday) and then she’s suddenly sick.  Not denying that she’s sick.  Just wondering how much she’s milking that.  She was home all day yesterday.  Finally came downstairs gasping for breath about two hours after I got home.  The girl has asthma.  But seriously.  This isn’t new.  And I have to wonder.  Because I threw her inhaler at her.  It was sitting at my desk.  Why is it sitting at my desk?  I don’t know.  Why didn’t she think to look for her inhaler at any time yesterday?  If she doesn’t know where it is, why didn’t she call me to get her a new one?  Why is she suffering  and waiting for a delivery of salvation?  This I don’t get.  This is where that ADD crap seems to get her.  It’s not a new situation because it’s a new day.  Simple logic, child.  So clearly she’s not going to understand that missing two days of school puts her in that place where she’s panicking and playing catch up.  Even though this scene has been played a million times.  It’s a new day. 

Mama’s tired of the game.  Is there some point where this isn’t my problem? I’m feeling like it’s not my problem today.

Went to chick game night last night.  That was entertaining.  I won the first game, so I could say “down girl” to myself.    Now I forget what I wanted to say.  Darn it.  There was a reason I brought that up.  We played Bananagrams- fun game for a scrabble game.  I found something vaguely interesting.  The idea is to use all your tiles to make words and when you do then everyone takes another tile.  This continues until all the tiles in the middle are gone.  The winner is the first person to use all the tiles on verifiable words.  Well, I used a made-up word at the beginning.  My friend was actually mildly upset about this.  And I’m wondering what is the matter with my character that I think it’s perfectly acceptable to use a made-up word when it will be gone by the end of the game.  Now I’m going to look up this word and see if it’s actually a real word.  Ha.  It has something to do with Microsoft.  Surely I knew that.  So I didn’t make it up.  (ha ha)  Also a pizza shop in Seattle, but that doesn’t count.  I also used the word “wank” which nobody else admitted to knowing.

Aw geez.  I shouldn’t share this.  Because I’m just so rude.  There’s this crazy woman at the elem school.  She has a daughter Willow and another daughter Winter.  When she was preg with #3, my PTO friends and I made suggestions (privately) for the 3rd kid name.  I hoped she’d have a boy.  Do I need to admit my name suggestion?  I know you’re desperate to know:  girl- Whisper.  Who the heck would name a kid Whisper?  Shoulda been a boy.

Anyhow.  I’m going to try really hard to be on time for work today.  I only have 45 minutes to get there, I’d better get moving.

OH!!!  I just remembered why I mentioned games night.  I got the best advice.  Somehow we were talking about writing.  The suggestion was passed along: Write drunk, edit sober.  Or something like that.  I thought that was great.  I do have something rather freaking enormous I need to write.  I’m a little afraid of it.  I just had the most delightful idea.  I wonder if I’ll do it.

Happy Tuesday.  Hope to see you on the flip side.

#whimsh 10. Create a PHOTOGRAPH in a surrealist tradition

#whim 31. Write a STORY based on this photograph by John Glaze

On a very fine September Tuesday, the sun shining through the window, Dot brushed her graying hair.  She stood at the mirror seeing the youth long faded, feeling the promise of another fine September day.  She smiled at the rosy cheeked, shiny haired girl that she’d been. 

At precisely 5:10, her loving husband of many years opened the front door.  He looked for her first in the kitchen.  Then walked slowly down the hallway in the self-satisfied way a man can employ when life goes his way.  And he opened the door to their bedroom, more to discard his day’s burdens than to find his wife.  A question in his face, he stood behind her and stared into the mirror.

She felt the words churning inside, burning a venomous path from her heart to her throat.  She pulled the pistol out of her pocket and shot that foul mouth.  Then put a bullet between his eyes.

In a voice more demon than woman, she said. 

Nothing.

#whimsy 12. Write a FLASH FICTION set at a funeral using the following words: balloon, politics, pesticide, erection, octopus.

The preacher was practicing politics.  No, that’s not right.  Not what Billy Joel sang at all.  And he (the preacher) isn’t practicing- he has full bodied erection for the topic.  The presidential election seems to be airlifted by hot air balloon into every situation.  Am I even here? 

There’s the casket (why was the word casket in a book to read to 6 year olds?) up front and center.  Closed.  Cannot see what used to be my favorite uncle.  Does it matter to say goodbye to him?  No, probably not.  Both in that he was very ill and I haven’t seen him since my cousin’s wedding when my baby was just a baby.  That teenager sits next to me, somewhat prim as she processes what this situation calls for.  Is the preacher even talking about the election?

Pesticides.  What happens when we spray dangerous chemicals on food crops?  What was I reading that was so outdated anyhow.  We stopped spraying DDT long ago.  Everything has an unintended consequence.  How do you see every possibility?   

Eggshells.  Life is so fragile and it goes quickly.  If you don’t keep your eyes open and your mind engaged, everything slips out of control.  You’re allowing someone to choose how you live.  Who you see.  The ink from the octopus blocks the reality of the situation.  The situation being that you didn’t see an uncle you loved once upon a time for the last 11 years of his life.  Because you were “busy”.

~~~~~~
My mother’s brother died the other day.  I know he was very sick, but I can’t remember what he was sick with- probably cancer.  Seems to run kicking and screaming through my mother’s family.  I don’t think it was lung cancer, which would make sense as he was a coal miner.  I don’t remember if his wife is still alive- I think so.  I don’t remember where his 6 kids live- my cousins (my favorite cousins as I was growing up).  I loved going to their house.  With 6 kids who loved each other it was a far cry from my house where my brother was the center of the universe.  I loved sleeping on the floor of the room my 3 girl cousins shared.  I loved that my cousin Carol and I looked alike even though I’m adopted, so I can’t possibly have any shared familial genes.  I loved their home where the yard was for fun rather than for Home and Garden magazine. It’s a damn shame that I never told him this.  It’s also a damn shame that today I feel like getting their addresses and Saturday we’ll be hugging and crying but by Sunday I’ll probably have forgotten why it was important.

Pretty sure this is going to be a random report of randomness full of random.

Rose of Sharon from my front yard.  Yay.

I took a walk during the daylight hours.  This is unusual.  My saunterings are usually late at night or purposeful.  Wow.  Lady Gaga on my Depeche Mode station.  Cool. My escort cat came with me, but not as far as she does in the nighttime.  Must be too much action. Speaking of action, she was clearly moving (or I was) when I snapped these two.  Happy kitty.  This is Princess Buttercup. She is no longer quite as shy as she used to be.  Probably because Psychoninjakitty bugs the everloving crap out of her all the time.

Completely unrelated.  Yesterday my girls were fighting.  I know.. a shocker.  Spawn kicked LLO and was encouraged not to kick her sister.  Duh.  She said, “I didn’t kick her, I pushed her with my foot.”  Hard to argue with that kind of logic.

Today at work, I got to play with caterpillar poop.  I have no recollection of what else I did today at work.  I know I was busy.  I always am. 

The oak trees have grown lots of acorns and they are big honking things.  (Aren’t my plaid sneakers awesome?)  Doesn’t that mean this winter is going to be more like winter than last winter?  I’m already getting happy thoughts for a snow day (of which there were none last year.)

Spawn and I went to the fabric store yesterday.  Because she has designed a homecoming dress and she thinks I’m going to make it right for her.  She’s delusional.  But I will pretend.  Anyhow the woman who waited on us apparently works there just to spew her personal business.  She yakked to the lady before us, us and the lady after us.  And all of it was new information.  I could give a report.  I don’t want to.  Seriously.  She needs to get a xanga account to spew personal business. (like me)

And flowers that random people in my neighborhood have planted.  Spewing to you, that is.

This year’s kids aren’t hugging me yet.  Last years still are though.  I did see one of the boys this evening.  He asked me how my evening was going and said it was nice to see me.  He’s 6.  I wish my kids had his manners.  He’s a sweetie.  And his little brother told me the baby bird couldn’t fly without the feather.  Made me smile.

Tomorrow LLO and I are going to a picnic. 

I just got another email from school.  I’m wondering if we’re going to make it to the end of September.  I was thinking that things were getting better in 6th grade.  Silly me.

Is anyone else having a really strange evening?

#whim sh 60. Write a POEM using a quote from another work.  I’m feeling very biblical, don’t you know.  But it’s NOT something you’ll be wanting to read at your prayer meeting.  It’s a happy birthday poem for dear adamswomanfell.  (Are these enough clues for you all?)

He laid her down upon the altar
slowly removing each article
which covered her delicious body,
piece by piece,
inhaling the fragrance of her skin
enraptured by the visage before him.
And when she was bare before him,
blushing and shy, yet brazen-
knowing the look in his eyes-
he took her in.
First his eyes capturing every detail,
then his tongue tracing a path
from her soft lips to sweet neck
nuzzling that spot behind her ear
that he knew would make her his.
Then his tongue slowly sliding down
to the roundness of her breasts,
circular motion ever inward
until he discovered tight peaks-
delicious peaks that tasted of heaven.
Gentle nibbles led the knowledge
which he required
and he followed the scent
towards further heaven, hers and his,
intertwined like the branches of a tree-
the tree of the knowledge of good
and evil became a distant memory
as his tongue worshiped her.