Noodle and the Goose Again

It's a noisy day in our neighborhood.

About a month ago, I spent a day digging out azaleas and other assorted bushes/small trees from this area in our front yard:

and moving them to other areas, mostly here:

here:

here:

here:

as well as to the ever growing brush/compost pile in our back yard.

The purpose of all this digging and moving was to allow tree-cutting-down-people to reach this:

really huge and really, really old maple tree located right about on our property line and, since we first bought this house in 2002, threatening to fall over onto either our house or, worse, our neighbor's house.

Indeed, a very large limb did fall off this tree during a windstorm a few years back and crashed into what was and is now our girl's bedroom. We were in Indonesia at the time. You can imagine how excited we were to negotiate that whole fiasco from the other side of the world.

Under normal circumstances I am much more interested in tree-hugging than tree-removal. But these are not normal circumstances. This tree is HUGE. Or I should say, was HUGE. Because today the tree-cutting-down people arrived and all day they've been dropping pieces of the tree to the ground. All day. It is past 5 right now and they're finally to the main trunk which just landed with an earth shaking THUNK diagonally across the front yard. The entire front yard. That second THUNK you may have just felt (those of you on the NA continent) was a somewhat smaller, yet equally looming-threateningly-over-the house tree on the other side of the yard. Things jumped off of shelves when that one fell.

I, along with the dog, have been hiding out inside most of the day because I can't bear to see these proud old trees go, even though I know they need to. On my one foray out to walk the dog, I discovered that - ironically - one of the earlier thunks, a limb crashing from on high, did indeed glance off of our neighbor's roof - knocked into the guttering and will probably require some repair work.

But this neighbor? I love this guy. Said, "Better one small limb than the whole damn tree, Oh and by the way, you guys are NOT moving away from here are you? Please tell me y'all are NOT moving away".

That. Is a good neighbor.

-------

Update: Hot off the presses photos of the fallen trunk.

And the space in the sky where she used to be.

Sigh.

And then there was Easter

Which was a beautiful, warm, sunny weekend in NC.

Perfect for egg dying (with samples) on the porch on Saturday.

Poor doggie in jail.

Pretty, pretty eggs.

And since we couldn't let all that dye go to waste, a few impressionistic tie-dye pieces drying in the sun.

N & G took to the street for some chalk art.

Guess whose footprints are whose.

She really is a Goose. Partly.

While I was distracted by the Green. Leaves. And. Blue. Sky.

 Then we made piles and piles of biscuits for Church Easter breakfast.

Overnight the Easter Bunny arrived and left behind some baskets.

And my girls got their first taste of Peeps. Not a big hit.

After church there were eggs to collect in the front yard.

And dinner. Grandma Matilda's clove studded ham with potatoes. And eggs. Lots of eggs.

But most importantly Grandma's (my mom's) Stawberry Yum Yum for dessert. The awesomest dessert ever and we didn't share it with anyone else!

How yummy is the Yum Yum?

I caught Goose through the window actually licking her plate clean.

Our festivities ended with the eating of chocolate bunnies (head first) and the reading of that classic Easter story,

The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes. 

I love that bunny.

And covet the little gold shoes.

One Spectacular Pass - Pow!!! Kazaam!!!

Lately I've been feeling the Mama-Fail-Thing. Even composing blog posts in my mind entitled "Top Ten Mama Fails" or at least "Top Five Mama Fails". On the list are things like "My kids are not involved in one single after school enrichment or entertainment activity and hence will never get into a good University", and "I can't make daughter #1 eat vegetables. At. All.", and "I'm not nearly intentional/radical/sustainable/artistic enough about my homemaking and mothering" and " my kids watch too much TV and too little time learning important and interesting things or doing creative projects" and stuffed like that. 

Dunno. Maybe I've flashed through too too many "Mommy Blogs" written by the daughters - or worse granddaughters (add to that list of fails, "I'm just too damn old to be doing this") - of Martha Stewart who are out there doing it all and taking pretty pictures of it to "remember the moment". I'm too too wearied by it to even try to enumerate in a smart or/humorous way, the many and varied things these amazing Moms do on an average day. But then, I was up rather late last night chasing down and tossing out of our house on its ear the BAT who came to visit our humble abode.

Yes, you read that correctly. The BAT. Aka, flying rat.

I knew we had bats in our yard, particularly living and nesting on the far side of the house (the side without the deck and with the jumble of pear trees). Partly because I've seen them swooping around at night when I take Maizie out for her last pee break. Also partly because when I took down the mini-blinds in the bathroom to wash them (soak in the tub with dishwasher powder) I found this:

hanging inbetween the storm window and the regular window - along with lots of spider webs, dried leaves and gunk.

Pretty cool, no?

At first I thought it was dead, but when it moved position between the time I first encountered it and when I dragged the girls (from the TV no doubt) to see it, I decided it was alive and real. Sleeping, of course, because it was daytime.

So great and wonderful. We have bats. Bats are our friends. We need bats to eat the mosquitoes, the thousands of mosquitoes who are already (dang nabit) plaguing us when we exit our house. Bats are endangered from White-Nose Syndrome, as reported by Noodle from her Science class. We should do everything we can to assure that they survive and thrive. Why, I even considered building some bat boxes to hang high in our trees. I love bats. Bats are our friends.

This does not necessarily imply, however, that I want them swooping and dancing their way up and down the hallway and doing lovely arabesque circles around my sleeping in bunk beds girls inside my house when I'm in the other room working on my computer.

And yet, something in my speech to the girls re: batly goodness seems to have been misinterpreted by one of the bats living outside our house, as he or she somehow opened the top of the (other) bathroom window and came for a visit last night under just such circumstances.

I was working at my desk in the library, actually working not surfing Pintrest, when Noodle came screeching into the room looking horrific and shouting "Mama, Mama there's a BAT in our house, there's a BAT in our house" which, surely enough there was. Swooping up and down the hallway with kitty (Zora) in hot pursuit, soon enough joined by puppy (Maizie) awoken from her pre-bedtime nap on the couch to begin frantic barking and crashing into walls. This noise, of course, awakened Goose in her top bunk, and since Noodle had helpfully left the door to their bedroom open, the BAT swooped into that room. Goose commenced screaming and screaming and screaming. And really, who can blame her? It was like something out of a horror flick. The bat careening about, the child trapped in a corner, wild shadows cast on the walls, dog barking, sister in the other room screaming, Mama tripping over her feet waving her arms trying to shoo the BAT out.

Once I managed to chase the bat out of their room I scurried to the kitchen and grabbed a tupperware (like, I think it may not have been official tupperware) container in which to trap the BAT. Tupperware (like) containers are very useful for trapping things you don't want in your house and need to remove rapidly from your house because they (the containers, not the unwelcome things) have lids. I learned this trick from my Spouse-Person who has successfully trapped various and sundry creatures in such containers in the past. I can think immediately of large lizards, a bird or two, a snake, and spiders, including one that we discovered after it had been deposited outside, was actually a Very Bad Spider Who Could Kill You If It Bit You.That was in Indonesia (of course) and here in the US that helpful and experience Spouse-person was not at home, but at work (of course).

Working in his stead, I successfully shooed the bat into my bedroom and trapped him/her behind the weird boxy thing on the window - I think it is called a Cornice. Anyway, BAT got trapped and lid went on and out the front door we went, BAT away to safety and me back to the now hysterical girls. Goose was actually shaking in fear. It took a Very Long Time for her to stop screaming, crying and shaking. And even longer to let go of me and fall asleep. Before finally doing so she tearfully said, "But Mama, I didn't know that BATS were real.  I thought they were like Vampires. You told me Vampires weren't real. Are Vampires real too?"

I'm guessing that she learned of Vampires from watching too much TV, which - OMG - is evidence of my parenting fail, but having rescued my dearest wee ones from the terrors of the BAT and being able to impress the difference between REAL (BATS) and NOT REAL (vampires) in a sure to not be forgotten way to my 6 year old?

I consider this to be a parenting pass. On the high side of the bell curve, if not with a few honors.

--

Addendum- I've since learned that should another BAT get into the house, it can be easily directed back outside by enticing it into a room, opening a window and turning off the lights. Rumor has it that the BAT will fly right out.

I'm hoping not to have to test that anytime soon.

A month later

So it has been brought to my attention. That I haven't posted in a month.

Here's what we missed.

Tulips. Not many, but lovely spots of color in the dreary front yard.

Azeleas.

Apple blossoms.

Dogwoods.

White

and pink.

and Wisteria.

And then, we went to the beach. Ocracoke Island, Outer Banks. Somewhere between the Atlantic and reality.

I love this place.

I would have stayed forever, if I could have.

(Next up: actual words and complete sentences. Maybe.)

Abloom

The warm weather has brought out the early blossoms in our neighborhood.

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now,

is hung with bloom along the bough.

And stands among the woodland ride,

wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my three-score years and ten.

Twenty will not come again,

And take from seventy springs a score,

It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom,

Fifty springs are little room,

About the woodlands I will go

To see the cherry hung with snow.

 

Somewhat sobering to realized how much closer I am to those 50 springs than when I learned this little ditty in voice class years ago.

MOVING ON.

The Pears.

The Forsythia.

The violets scattered across our "lawn".

Up next?

The Dogwoods.

And the tulips that survived the squirrels and neglectful tenants.

Updates as warranted.

WHY???

You might be asking yourself, if you were to drive past our house or to see us tooling down the road somewhere, WHY IN THE WORLD has this:

 

 

very large and very sporty and very white Jeep become part of the Noodle/Goose family?  Have we become Cowboys? Vaqueros? Too cool for words? or (of all things) SPORTY people who have need for a 4 X 4, 4 wheel drive Sport Utility Vehicle with big old tires and attitude?

Worry not, gentle readers. Big White Jeep is only a temporary blip in the life of this mini-van family.

It all began a while back, when we zipped up to Ohio for a quick weekend surprise wing-ding to celebrate Opa's 80th Birthday. Happy Birthday Opa!!!!! It was a splendid quick weekend, chock full of games and astonishing food and dogs running pell mell in the woods  and snuggling the littlest cousin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Really, when the curry and gado/gado and waffles and satay and peanut sauce and carrot cake and cookies and 'garbage' sandwiches and everything else we managed to stuff down in very short order was that yummy AND the cousin that SO freaking adorable, one might not remember to get photos of other things we did).

It was all good and Sunday afternoon we struck out for home - 7 hours away. And then. Right - and I do mean right - before we crossed the river out of Ohio the mini-van died. Just died. Right there on the interstate highway. Which could have been so so so so so much worse than it was, because we were right by an exit (#1) and were able to coast all the way down the exit ramp and pull over onto the wide shoulder of the road before all movement stopped within a short stroll to a service station. From which we discovered that within a mile of where we were there was a) a towing company/repair shop, b) a car rental place and c) a dog friendly hotel. The latter being necessary because the car rental place would not open until the next morning and the news on the mini-van required us to make use of both b and c.

So we overnighted in Ohio and the next morning, rented the only available car - the big, white, rental Jeep and headed home. Since then, we've been bouncing around town in our alter-egos and to tell the truth, it's kinda fun, in an 'oh, if only gas weren't so crazy expensive and I so hopelessly nerdy' way.

Don't you think it looks rather well in our rapidly 'springing' front yard?

 

 

Yeah, probably not. So later this week we'll zip back up to Ohio (just barely) and retrieve our resuscitated mini-van and give back the big, white, rental Jeep.

Fun while it lasts.

In other, completely non-related news, we seem to have a hostage situation developing in the bathroom here. Zora has discovered that Maizie can't jump into the bathtub after her and Maizie has discovered that Zora can't jump back out of the bathtub if closely monitored. For hours.

 

 

As if my life wasn't complicated enough already.

Cowfolks and Vaqueros

This week, Wednesday and Thursday evenings, Noodle's 5th Grade class had their BIG SHOW. An adaptation of Romeo and Juliet set on the border of Mexico and Texas. Juliet as a Vaquera and Romeo as a Cowboy. Language adapted to be historically accurate or contemporary with some of the original poetry retained - Shakespeare didn't write "he haw" or "You want a piece of me?", but he did write, "But soft, what light at yonder window breaks". The adaptation was written by the Art Director and the kids. The music - oh yes, there was lots of song and lots of dance - was all cowboy tunes -Old Dan Tucker, Home on the Range, Buffalo Gals or Vaquero ballads in Spanish. The dances were complex and fun. The fight scenes were well choreographed. There were live musicians. The performance was at a local theater with professional lights, staging and make up. The kids have been working on the play for months.

To say that it was awesome is an understatement. It was astonishing. Absolutely astonishing.

Because these kids? Are 10 and 11 years old. And they behaved and performed like professionals - or at least extremely good amateurs.  This was not a usual Elementary School production.

Most of the kids have been at the Arts Based School since Kindergarten and have had 5 years of dance, song, drama and yearly performance. Our Noodle held her own with them, though I could not help but lament that she didn't have the same 5 years of this sort of education (yes, yes, don't tell me what a good thing it was for her to be where she was for the last years, I know, I know, but if we had stayed put here, she would have been at this school for those years - trade-offs, trade-off, trade-offs). Arts Based Education isn't for everyone - someone needs to study science and technology and math and all those things that this school isn't so strong on. But my girls - and I have to admit, their jealous Mama - are a good fit for this place.

I am grateful we landed here this year.

And while I want to convince y'all that the performance was that good, I can't willy nilly post photos of other people's children - at least not identifiable ones. So here's a bunch of kids from far away and kids from backstage and kids dancing and singing and having a great time on stage. Cowboys and Vaqueros.

 

And yep, that wee short little one with the purple skirt and long braids is our Noodle.

She was a Cowgirl extraordinaire.

With but one spoken line, "What did he say?"

And one really big scene as the Messenger who takes the note explaining to Romeo that Juliet isn't really dead from the Priest, 

(This particular gesture did not require a great deal of acting on her part)

and then races away on a (stick) horse,

Through the dark of night (okay, it is a crappy photo, but it was DARK and she was galloping at top speed)

to pass the message on to another courier, who, as we know, arrives too late,all of which leads to such a tale of woe for Juliet and her Romeo.

I think Will would be quite pleased.

(One more gratuitous photo of my favorite Cowgirl.

Snow Day

I had forgotten that an inch of snow means crisis in the American Southeast, so when the rain turned to snow on Sunday afternoon, I assured the girls they would NOT have a day off of school the next. I was wrong. School was cancelled by bedtime.

Before that, however, we hit the deck for some snowy fun.

Creations were created.

Until toes and fingers got too cold and a hot bath with hot chocolate chaser was in order.

It actually kept snowing a bit overnight and the yard looked lovely in the morning light.

Most of the white stuff had melted by afternoon, but it was still enough for a pleasant diversion and an excuse not to do the laundry.

 

Hope Springs...

I woke up this morning feeling worse than terrible, with the persistent ache in my side howling in protest every time I drew a breath. It suddenly struck me that the last time I felt quite this way, with such a side ache, was back in 2006 when Goose was a baby and I had pneumonia. Which I didn't realize for some time because, well,  I was busy.

So today I'm assiduously ignoring the pain until tomorrow, when my doc's office is open and I can make an appointment. Hopefully its just my over active imagination, because I'm, you know, busy.

With what I'm not exactly sure. Working two days a week, teaching a class, preparing lectures, grading papers and all of that. Which is serving as distraction from the endless drudgery of cleaning up the house, doing the laundry, purchasing food and making something eatable for my voraciously hungry family who have the audacity to want to eat at least three times a day.  And then there's the dog. (I really, really, really miss our pembantu, our helper, who we left back in Indonesia).

But I am not thoroughly disheartened.  Though the groundhog saw his shadow, I'm gearing up for Spring. I'm planting seeds. Seeds. Something I've felt compelled to do in the past, with better results in the US than in SE Asia. So far the broccoli, bok choy, cherry tomatoes, swiss chard and basil have sprouted and are happily stretching their little sprouty leaves toward the lamp on my desk.

It is such a hopeful sight and daily I cheer them on to gaining their three real leaves and getting transplanted into their own special pot forthwith to venture outdoors when the frosts are gone and the ground warm. Exactly where they will all end up is totally hypothetical, as we live in the woods without much sun - sometimes I long for the vast open garden fields of my homelands. But truth be told, whatever makes it can probably be accommodated in some way on our very sunny deck. It is that big and my success with seedlings that pronounced.

Still and all, today we bought more and more seed packets - peppers, pumpkins, squash, beans, and flowers.

Because in February?

You just can't have too much hope or too many packets of seeds.

February 4.

The day creeps closer. Of course.

It was today a year ago that we threw stuff into suitcases and ran as quickly as we could to the airport to come home from Indonesia because my mommy was dying.

It was this day a year ago when I was sandwiched between my girls in a hotel bed at the Singapore Airport when my mommy died. On February 4.

Still I'm rendered speechless, mute, wordless by that fact.

I wasn't there, I wasn't there, I wasn't there when she died.

I know there is nothing my girls could ever do, or not do, that would ever be unforgivable, that would ever cause me to turn away from them, that would ever break my love for them. Because a Mother's love is like that. My Mother's love was like that.

I wish I could believe myself held in that love, always.

I miss her so much.

In our last converstation - before she got too sick to reply to me - a crackly voice on the telephone from the other side of the world - she kept asking, "Are you okay? Are you eating good? Are the girls okay? Are they eating good?". And my heart breaks to remember it.

Today while brushing up on Jewish mourning rituals for my class I came across a description of Kaddish, the prayer said for the year after a loved one has died. The prayer, it was suggested, is said daily so that the sayer can bask in the love of the one lost for a little more time before they cross over into eternity. Like when your mother asks you if you are warm enough, if you are getting enough sleep, if you are eating good - those expressions of the love that your mother has for you but doesn't have the words to express. That love, that concern, that care.

Are you okay? Are you eating good? Are the girls okay? Are they eating good?"

And I read this:

When we are born our parents carry us. When they die,
we carry them, but the truth is they are carrying us forever.
Just as Yakov Avinu asked his children to carry him back
to Eretz Yisroel before he died, but he was really telling
them, I will carry you back from the four corners of the
world. (attributed to Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach )

Still, my mommy carries me.

Still she carries me.