I was stumped. I had no idea, not even a glimmer of a clue.
This boy, along with his other 4 cousins/siblings, have been my captive (literally) audience over the years as they ride in the Nana Bus (my white 4-door Mazda 3) They all know the song about riding in the Nana Bus. And they have all been victim to my silly songs and antics during forced participation car trips around the city.
But the sitting song? When had I ever sang a song about sitting? We tried several, but no, not it.
“Sitting on my lap, sitting on me,” he finally said in frustration.
OHHH. “Willaby Wallaby Woo?”
“YES!”
So we sang:
Willaby wallaby woo, an elephant sat on you!
Willaby wallaby wee, an elephant sat on me!
Willaby wallaby wAGE, an elephant sat on GAGE,
Willaby wallaby wANA, an elephant sat on NANA.
Continually, we added cousins, siblings, parents. This song can go on forever. Like the song that never ends.
When I was finally able to quit singing the sitting song, he continued to talk. Nonstop. This chatter about a wide variety of topics, including many repeats, went on for at least an hour. I am not kidding. It started at home during play, kept going during our drive, and did not stop even when we finally met mommy for the hand-off.
I was dying and mommy was laughing because he does this up to bedtime and she has a hard time getting him to STOP talking. Just like his mommy. Wait. Just like his Papa, over filled with words and must get them out. ALL of them.
Here’s wishing you many good times singing sitting songs and chatting with the littles in your life.
Fingerhut, the mail order catalog, lured us into purchasing the complete set. Travel was at the top of my list, and we needed luggage. My family enjoyed many happy vacations and travel adventures using these beauties.
But this set was not my first foray into luggage acquisition. Years earlier, for graduation, I had requested luggage. You can tell something about a person by the choices she makes. Travel and adventure is high on my list, as evidenced by repeated attempts to procure baggage (of the traveling sort). Though I’ve got suitcases full of the other baggage, for free.
The original set of luggage, oh my. Ugly as dog poo. Make that baby poo, because it was the same awful orange-yellow-mustardy color. Naugahyde and built to last. Only it didn’t last as long as our many years of trips and is now lost in dump land. Or perhaps it is making the rounds through different thrift stores, living in the garages of other bright-eyed wanderlust humans.
What gifts or purchases have you made in the past that reflect who you are?
A dear friend (college buddy and fellow Jello Molder) recently shared her lovely home and serene garden with several of our solidly middle-aged Jigglers. I could sit for hours beside this potted fountain, just resting. Listening. Dreaming.
Or wondering. Who lives beneath the leaves? Besides the dog drinking with noisy laps, who else visits for refreshment? Birds, squirrels, cats, frogs? Do bees bumble along the edges and butterflies dance above the leaves? Do raccoons dare to stop for a wash of dinner? Maybe spiders consider nearby locations to capture insects who venture in for damp moisture. I could imagine larger wildlife guests if the high fence disappeared. Do children press against the fence, hoping to spy the source of splashing? Are passing adults desperately wishing to sit and ease their minds beside the talking water?
A drink of serenity goes far to refresh a heart heavy with life.
This post is NOT about wrapping preschoolers in bubble wrap. But it is about how much fun tots have popping bubbles.
Today during a sorting marathon, I discovered two small boxes filled with hand-sized rectangles of bubble wrap. Bubble wrap became the seed of creativity for my two young charges.
First, the fine motor skills used in attempting to pop the plastic bubbles brought intense concentration. Next came sound effects-boisterous shouts for each successful popping noise. And after introducing the ‘stomp-til-you-pop’ game while standing on the kitchen floor, squeals of joy and excitement filled the house.
30 minutes. That’s the minimum time they spent focused on small squares of bubble wrap. Moms, I was able to complete several tasks while supervising the giggly kiddos.
Mom tip: Get (save) bubble wrap!
Other activities to do with bubble wrap:
– use bubble wrap taped to a cardboard tube to make a paint roller
– add bubble wrap to cardboard strips to make bumpy roads for toy vehicles
– experiment with the protective properties of bubble wrap (drop an egg?)
– press bubble wrap in play dough or damp sand to make prints
– add bubble wrap to doll beds for mattresses (tape securely with duct tape)
– cut bubble wrap to fit inside a freezer gallon ziplock bag; seal with duct tape; let younger tots pop bubbles through the bag
– make bubble wrap shoes and walk around outside to see how well they work
CAUTION: Always supervise any play with plastic. Keep plastics and bubble wrap away from faces and mouths.
It might be noisy, but bubble wrap fun will be music to your ears.
Rust certainly equals a throwback in time. Metal, rain, wind, snow, sun, exposure. All combine to wreck havoc on sentimental objects, mellowing newness and transforming it into works of art.
Paint disappears, patina wears thin, and intrigue grows. Who clasped this lock here, tossing away the key, for an eternity of unbroken love? Who was in love? Was the effort in memory of an absent love or did both in love grasp and click the lock to make a commitment?
How many throwback Thursdays have passed since each was locked? How many days, weeks, months, years of weather and life have drifted by like the waves on the shore and gulls on the breeze? How many throwbacks before rust came to visit?
Rust calls me. Not pristine, though new is surely beautiful. But wear and tear, peeling paint, bleed lines of red. Time lends character. But is time kind to the hands who attached the locks as signs to the world, shouting, “I love you!”? Is there still love?
Hope springs eternal. As rust makes for interest, time grows and deepens love. If we but let it. And work for it.
Not THE Jimmy Hoffa, but my own skin-less, flesh-less version.
One quarter during my junior year of college at Western Washington University, I had the BEST science course! I loved that class. We determined our own grades by the project choices and number of selections we made on a preset list of assignments. Since I was always aiming for top grades, I made high marks my goal.
The final choice (between getting an A or a B) was removing the flesh from a small rodent to expose the skeleton. Actually, there was a second choice, but I don’t remember what it was. I spent many intense moments in consideration as I walked to and fro across campus. Choice A or B? I just had to do that final project to push myself to an A.
As I was wavering on how to get a rodent (rat or mouse) and how I was ever going to ‘kill’ it in order to dissect the flesh/skin/fur from its’ skeleton, I practically stepped on a rat. I was racing to class, when BAM, there was a barely moving rat lying on the pavement right outside my dorm! It was up against Old Edens, a gorgeous brick, ivy-covered behemoth of a building. I think the poor thing fell off and brained itself. Barely breathing or moving. Four feet in the grave.
Should I or shouldn’t I??? Choice A? I had to choose A when the opportunity presented itself. Nearly late, I raced to my room, grabbed a plastic bag, ‘rescued’ the rodent from the cement, put it in the dorm freezer, and headed to class. I really don’t think it was going to come around, so slowly freezing to death seemed pretty humane to me.
Now I was in possession of a full-sized dead frozen rat-sicle. In. The. Dorm. Freezer. (Don’t tell anyone, I’m sure there were regulations against it.) Time to earn that A.
How to Make a Rat Skeleton Display
1. Borrow science tools and remove as much of the ‘not bones’ parts as possible. This was a bit tricky with the tail and tiny toes, not to mention the dull scapel.
2. Attach rat skeleton (in my case, Jimmy Hoffa) to a piece of balsam wood to hold it in one position. I used straight pins.
3. Take rat skeleton to a flesh-eating insect colony. I also had the choice of boiling off the flesh, but ew. If frozen rat in the freezer in my dorm was bad, the smell of cooking rat would have been much worse! Besides, the tiny bones would have fallen apart or dissolved.
4. Let rat skeleton spend a minimum of one month in the insect colony.
Research Tip: I have no idea which type of insects Jimmy really visited, but best guess is a colony of dermestid beetles. Which, according to this post, can pick a skeleton clean in one day. No idea why Jimmy had to stay away from home for a month.
5. So, Jimmy went on a little trip to the flesh-eating insect container. There Jimmy spent a month of so while hundreds, or thousands, of little bugs combed his bones, picking off and eating leftover bits my scapel refused to move. He was almost perfectly clean when I picked him up from the vacation in Bug-Land. After writing an eye-witness account of his travels, I presented Jimmy and his journal to my professor.
Ta-da! I was awarded an A for my work in the science course. And I got to keep Jimmy. Where he lived in a ziplock bag for years until I couldn’t think of anything else to do with him and tossed him out. Poor Jimmy.
There you have it! Should you want to de-flesh a rodent skeleton, just find a colony of those flesh-eating bugs.
What crazy projects did you complete during your educational years?
Compliments of my cousin, Melissa, we enjoyed her cast iron skillet breakfast casserole. So mouth-watering, fragrant, and tasty! I can’t wait to play with the recipe when I get home.
Cast Iron Breakfast Casserole
Ingredients:
1 package tater tots
1 dozen eggs
1 cup diced turkey ham (or your ham choice)
1 cup grated cheese
salt and pepper
butter
Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
2. Generously butter inside of seasoned cast iron skillet.
3. Line bottom and edges with tater tots.
4. Sprinkle ham over tater tot crust.
5. In separate bowl, whisk eggs until well combined. Add salt and pepper to taste and mix. Pour over ham and crust. (Cayenne would be great, too!).
6. Sprinkle cheese on top.
7. Bake in oven. Start checking at 45 minutes by jiggling pan for movement or sticking fork in center for doneness. We like a crispy crust, so ours cooked for about 1 hour.
8. Remove from oven. It will continue to cook for a bit more. Slice and serve while warm. Delish!
Optional toppings: salsa or ketchup (for the youngers, not me), chopped green onions, sour cream, Tabasco. I’d like to experiment with green peppers, green chilis, spinach, broccoli, kale, and cherry tomatoes, though not all at once. Mmm.
Thanks, Melissa! I am inspired to re-season my cast iron skillet and whip up some breakfast casserole!
A 40 year friendship! You can see Crystal Lake but not Mt. Rainier, which is glowing in the background. Selfies are not my strong suit…
We first met 40 years ago today, Labor Day, at the Wapato Harvest Festival parade.
Newly arrived from Arizona, I didn’t know many people. He had lived in Wapato for nearly all his life. We came face to face in front of the pastor’s house on the “Ave” where church members and assorted tag-a-longs gathered to watch the parade before heading to the city park for rides, games, and food.
Tall, thin, curly-haired; my impression was of a ‘cool’ guy who couldn’t be bothered to chat with a short, sun-kissed non-native. By his report, he was cool but thought I was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
We made slow progress at first. His mom suggested he take me to the homecoming dance. “Nope.” So I went with my cousin from Seattle who was immediately the hottie everybody wanted.
Come spring, our relationship was growing in earnest and we became a couple. At least for a few months. Then I took a year off during our junior year. But like bees to honey, we were back together for senior year.
Off I went to Western Washington University, with the claim that, “If we can survive 4 years apart for college, we can survive anything.” My guy burned the road up between Wapato and Bellingham (4 1/2 hour drive one way), coming to see me every other weekend. Sometimes I traveled back home but then he had to share me with everyone. Back before cell phones and computers (I KNOW! Gasp!) we had a code phone call ring. To avoid the charges of our dorm phone, he would call, let it ring twice, then hang up. That was our good-night check-in. We did talk on the phone, but not much. We spent much of our time writing letters back and forth. Boxes of notes, cards, and creative tomes of love…if I had spent that much time studying…
In June of 1985, we became Mr. and Mrs. This was just a new beginning to our life of adventure, starting right off by driving to So Cal and Disneyland (giving our parents a heart-attack). Our honeymoon was the first of many on-the-road journeys Mr. and Mrs. enjoyed and plan to enjoy.
Two babies, five grandchildren, furry pets, revolving jobs, and numerous trips, houses, and escapades, we are still best friends and more in love each day. Sure there have been struggles and explosive moments, but we’ve stayed committed to each other. It’s wonderful to have a best friend and partner standing beside you on the journey, one who knows all your faults and fears and how you look in the morning (or after childbirth or surgery or the stomach flu) and who still loves you and takes you on dates and hiking in the mountains and on motorcycle rides and finishes your sentences or phrases cloned from favorite movies.
40 years of labor (of a different sort) and here we are today. Best friends, lovers, partners in crime. God knew what He was doing when He hooked us up. And we’ve kept Him busy taking care of us ever since.
Love, Laughter, and Life 