It’s been quite a gooply day today. If you haven’t heard of that word before, don’t bother looking it up. I made it up for a silly alphabet book that I made for our oldest son when he was 8 years old. Most of the words were fairly forgettable, but a few have stuck in our family lexicon.

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I went to put some mail in the mailbox this morning and the driveway was so gooply with worms it was hard to avoid walking on the repulsive little wrigglers. You may use this word as much as you please because I really think our English vocabulary needs it.

Another word from that book that was well used in our family was “heinlip: the last bite of a meal.”

Sometimes one of the kids would look at a sibling’s plate and say, “Are you going to eat the heinlip?” It was a polite way of foraging for more food.

One of the best words to emerge, from a parental standpoint, was the word “Xinli,” which means “The sound of someone getting ice cream out of the freezer.” We used this word a LOT after all the kids were in bed.

The total eclipse was a bust in our neck of the woods, but at least I got to revisit some of these funky words today. And now you also know why no one has been contacting me to become a book illustrator. My usual style is stick people so this was quite fancy for me.

I’m on a roll, so here’s a BRAND NEW WORD: “Blogocide,” the destruction of blog posts in the morning.

Sometimes, like today, I come to the end of the day and realize that I have forgotten to post something on this here blog. “Oh no!” I think to myself, “How could I let my adoring fans down like this?” You must allow me this little conceit of thinking that I have adoring fans who would have to choke down a tear or two if my cheery email doesn’t arrive to save the day.

This is when my ability to say something about nearly nothing comes in the most handy. You’re still reading, aren’t you? You’ve been dragged along into this post in spite of your own good sense that there isn’t any real content. But wait! There’s more! Yes, more cards up my sleeve in the form of a motley assortment of photos. You’ve come this far – you might as well stick it out for those, too. The theme, “something about nothing” holds true.

Now you can go to bed with a merry heart. You’re welcome!

I’ll probably…zzzzzz

After dabbling in roosters for awhile, here’s the last one, painted from an original photo this time, rather than a copy of watercolors I found on Pinterest. I call him “Mr. Sunset.”

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For comparison, here’s the original photo:

Look at that rooster and tell me there’s not a God who made him. What a glorious creature!

Rising up early, he speaks to you,
Rising up early, he teaches you
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”
Which, if you are listening rightly, means
”Amend your ways and your doings,
And obey the voice of the LORD your God.”
He speaks before the sunrise,
He embodies a living sunset.
What more do you need?

I’ve been reading in the book of Jeremiah these days, so since I’ve put Jeremiah’s words in his mouth, I further name him “Jeremiah Sunset.”

In my continuing quest to create a nice watercolor border for quotes, I submit the following:

It’s an improvement on the first one (which dissolved into a chaos of misbegotten leaves) and the second one (which didn’t look at all like what I had envisioned), but I hope I will continue to improve with practice.

Thank you for your kind attentions to my blog posts.

This post will dissolve into a chaos of words in the morning.

(To start at the beginning: Adventures in Italy Part 1)

Milan (sort of) – August 2016

We’re not actually in Milan, oddly enough.  The airport is in Malpensa, which is about 45-60 minutes north of Milan. The hotel, Le Robinie, is 10 minutes from the airport.  

Kris just left for the rest of his meeting today and I’m under strict instructions not to sleep, so once again, I can devote some time to sending an email that still doesn’t contain a lot of information about Italia.

The flight from Atlanta to “Milan” was long: about 8 1/2 hours.  When I found my seat, I was delighted to see that a little pillow and a blanket were already there waiting for me. I tore open the wrapping on the blanket and used it like a shawl the entire time.  Ahhh…..  I wanted you all to have a sense of closure about that.  

A nice young Italian man was sitting next to me.  His girlfriend was just across the aisle from him and I toyed very briefly (VERY) with the thought of letting her have my window seat so they could sit together.  I’m not as nice as you think I am – I kept the window seat and wasn’t sorry about it either.  

I “slept” for a couple fitful hours after it got dark.  It’s like trying to sleep in a hospital, except with even more noise and interruptions, announcements, beepings and the like. The best part was when I decided to open the shade to see if it was starting to get light again and caught the very beginning of the new day at the top of the world.  It was breathtaking! I felt like waking everybody up: “Look out the window!!”

The descent was absolutely stunning. We went over a mountain range (Italian Alps?) and the peaks were surrounded on all sides with a cloud layer, like snow on the ground. As we got closer to the airport and farther away from the mountains, the clouds receded and I could concentrate on the countryside.  

In God’s sweet providence, Kim (the other Syngenta spouse) and I did not have to take a taxi to the hotel, since another Syngenta employee had gotten in to the airport a little earlier than us and was renting a van.  Yea!  

Kris was in a meeting when we arrived, so Kim and I went to our rooms to change and freshen up a little. I was very perplexed about how to turn the lights on. I pressed all sorts of things on the wall that seemed like they might be light switches, but nothing worked. I went out into the hall and flagged down a maid. “Scusi!”  “Non parlo inglese” she said with a look of alarm on her face. I was just getting started with my attempt at asking the question in Italian (Le luce…the lights…) when Don (the van man) came out and told me you have to put your key card in a slot in the wall.  Half an hour later, I realized I should go find Kris, since they were taking a lunch break and I spent FIVE MINUTES looking for that dumb key card, having already forgotten that it was in the wall. I was wandering around the room muttering, “How could I have lost it already?”  I’m blaming it on the lack of sleep.  

I decided to take the stairs down instead of the elevator – wouldn’t you? Well, I got to the bottom and found out that the only exit was an emergency exit which warned of alarms going off if I opened the door. Oh well… I went back to the first floor – the door was locked.  I went to the other two floors – all locked. Haven’t even been in the hotel for an hour and I’m trapped in the stairwell. I fired off a text to Kris and it turns out he had just been to our room looking for me, so he came to my rescue and we were reunited at last! He said he did the same thing the first morning he was here.

We had lunch with the Syngenta peeps – I sat next to the only Italian in the group, Rafaelle – very nice man.  I explained to him that Kris and I had been trying to learn some Italian and he obliged me by teaching me how to say “very little” in Italian, so we could explain to other Italians how much of the language we know: molto poco.  

Kim and Don just stopped by – they’re going to take a train or bus into Milan (about an hour ride) to see the Duomo and asked if I wanted to go along.  Don’t judge me, but I declined.  A: I’m low on stamina right now, and B: my introvert side was screaming that spending an entire afternoon sightseeing with people I didn’t know would be exhausting.  No regrets. Kris and I will be back in Milan next week and will take in the sights then.  I’ll spend the afternoon doing a little research on our train trip to Genoa tomorrow and will probably take a walk outside – it’s a beautiful day in Italy!

Ciao!!
Love,
Lynn/Mom

I’ll probably put this in the “molto poco” bin in the morning.

Adventures in Italy Part 4

I had not realized that the older we got, the more attention we would have to give to sorting our stuff and winnowing the chaff from the grain. Add in the stuff from departed loved ones and there’s a serious sorting situation in the works. I’m determined to sift through and organize all the family genealogical documents and photos my Mom accumulated, as well.

Speaking of photos, I read a book many years ago called Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury. I don’t remember much about it, except for the presence of a character who did not find any value in old photographs, or in any photographs at all. The character was completely untethered from those little pictorial fragments that mean so much to our lives, or at least to mine. It was a strange perspective, but one that seemed to free this person from much that would weigh him/her down. I can see that there is a point at which the accumulation of memorabilia can become a weight rather than treasure.

So yes, sorting and winnowing is the theme of this phase of my life. Do we want this thing? Do we need it? If we get rid of it, will we regret it? Could somebody else make better use of it? I’ve been setting aside some time each week to go through places that need the winnowing fan, but I can only do so much at a time – so many decisions are wearying.

I’ll separate the wheat from the chaff in this post in the morning.

I continue to learn about northern bog lemmings and their world so I can situate Saul in the right place in the right way. Here are a few descriptions of these little creatures and their ways:

Elusive
Isolated and local
Seldom seen
A rare and splendid rodent

I love that last description: “a rare and splendid rodent.” Wish I’d thought of it. Wouldn’t it make a wonderful book title?

I’m still searching for Saul. I’ve seen little glimpses of him as I do my research.

Way up in the north, you’ll find the Big Bog and in the Big Bog you’ll find small Saul. It’s not a swamp. It’s not a marsh. It’s not even a fen. It’s a bog, where peat gathers, orchids bloom, plants eat insects and the ground swallows the rain. The bog has its secrets.

You could get lost in the Big Bog, wandering from place to place where to the casual eye everything looks the same. Visitors to the bog must be careful, but those who live there know the neighborhood like you know yours.

If you stay still and keep your eyes open, you might see one of the bog’s most elusive creatures. Do you see that little haystack made of clipped sedge grasses? Keep watching it…there! Small Saul, the northern bog lemming, is building a runway through the grasses, minding his own business.

I’ll probably find Saul in the morning, making little haystacks out of blog clippings.

I mentioned last week that I’m reading through a poetry collection. To be specific, it’s a book called “The Golden Treasury of Poetry,” and I’ve had such a long association with it that I’ve inserted into my mind a false memory of bringing it into our marriage. But no, it was a book from my husband’s childhood. It strikes a chord with me because of the illustrations by Joan Walsh Anglund. She was one of my Mom’s favorite book illustrators and I grew up in a bedroom that had a display of Joan Walsh Anglund illustrations that went all the way across one of the walls. Wish I had a photo of that.

Usually poetry collections are a resource that you pick up now and again, and that’s how we used this book during the homeschool years. I have run across a few poems in this one that some of my children memorized and recited – oh, the memories! “Tyger, Tyger, burning bright…,” “The Akond of Swat,” “The Owl Critic,” and a hilarious one called “The Twins,” that I just HAD to have my twins memorize and recite for one of our homeschool recitals.

Last year (July 1, to be exact), I decided to read through the book, cover to cover. It’s been such an enjoyable experience! This week, I’ve been reading through some of the limericks. I’ll share a few with you and finish up with one of my own.

A girl who weighed many an oz.
Used language I dared not pronoz.
For a fellow unkind
Pulled her chair out behind
Just to see (so he said) if she’d boz.

And here’s another one that relies on you pronouncing the whole word that’s been abbreviated (as if it rhymes with Michigan):

There’s a girl out in Ann Arbor, Mich.,
To meet whom I never would wich.,
She’d eat up ice cream
Till with colic she’d scream,
Then order another big dich.

Here’s a two-stanza one:

The daughter of the farrier
Could find no one to marry her,
Because she said
She would not wed
A man who could not carry her.

The foolish girl was wrong enough,
And had to wait quite long enough;
For as she sat
She grew so fat
That nobody was strong enough!

And here’s one that I’m writing even as I type, so don’t expect the heights of cleverness that the previous ones exemplified:

I met a bog lemming named Saul,
Whose diet was painfully small
Just grasses and seeds
Met all of his needs
It’s a wonder he grew up at all!

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There’s a post that I need to delete,
And it’s right here under my feet
I’ll wait ‘til the morning
To give it fair warning
Before kicking it out on the street.

The rooster phase continues. These are the copies I made from watercolors I found on Pinterest in the order that I painted them. Let’s imagine that we are hens and get to choose one of these studly bachelors based solely on their appearance. We don’t get to find out what their favorite hobbies and foods are and where they’d take us on a first date, but other than that, just exactly like the Bachelor Show. Let’s get started!

Candidate #1, the original. We’ll call him “Mr. Primitive.”

Candidate #2, Mr. Bright Feathers

Candidate #3: Mr. Sloppy But Sincere

Candidate #4: Mr. Bold and Loose (but not morally loose)

Candidate #5: Mr. Showman

Which one of these handsome fellas gets your vote? Vote early, vote often!

Next week I’ll be painting an original from a photograph, my way of taking the training wheels off.

At the first cock-a-doodle-doo of the morning, this will be hen-pecked.

(To start at the beginning: Adventures in Italy Part 1)

MSP to Atlanta Airport – August 2016

You’re in luck!  I have another few hours to kill before the flight to Milan takes off. You’re probably thinking that I can’t possibly eke out any more to say after so little time has passed – but if you’re thinking that, you don’t know me very well. If Kris were here, I’d be chatting with him and wouldn’t give you all a second thought, so if it’s convenient for you, please blame this excessive narrative on him. My goal is to keep you really on the edge of your seats and make you care about the minutiae of my life (“did she choose pretzels, peanuts or a cookie for the on-flight snack?”). 

I’ve been struck with a condition that I shall call “jacket envy.”  A guy waiting for my flight had a huge gray cardigan just flung carelessly over his suitcase. Why did he bring it if he wasn’t going to use it at least offer it to someone else? I had a window seat and the man two seats down from me came in wearing a suit and immediately took his jacket off and looked annoyed at having to find a place to put it.  “Give it to me,” I urged silently. Not having perfected the art of ESP, I was not successful in getting the idea across to him subliminally and it seemed past the border of social appropriateness to ask him for it. 

Next thing you know, we’re soaring over the clouds and I’m contemplating why I can’t even make it to the top of Hermann the German because of my fear of heights, but I can look down from thousands of feet in the air and not feel the same way.  Nothing but air and fluffy clouds underneath us and I’m perfectly fine with it. Why is that? The flight was, as we say so cavalierly, uneventful. I read, worked on a crossword puzzle and looked out the window pondering various things that seemed quite profound at the time. In no time at all, we were beginning our descent (no time = 90+ minutes) and moving downward through many layers of clouds.  This is the point at which turbulence happens, as I learned on our trip back from NY, so I took a page from David’s book and decided to focus my attention on the clouds and the sights below (little miniature trees, tiny meandering rivers, and eventually many clusters of neighborhoods with their little tiny houses that looked like Monopoly pieces). This concentrated the mind wonderfully.

I had another invigorating walk to my gate in Atlanta and am looking around surreptitiously for the wife of one of my husband’s co-workers who is on the same plane to Milan to meet her husband over there. We exchanged photos, so I’m hoping it’ll be obvious.  Hey, just as I was typing that, she showed up!  So, thus ends this narrative about nothing.  There’ll be more interesting things for me to write about in Italy, right?

Love,

Lynn/Mom

P.S. I chose the pretzels.

I’ll probably delete this excessive narrative in the morning.

Adventures In Italy Part 3

Am I the only one who sometimes has inwardly cloudy days? I’ve had a refrain running through my mind all day: “Put on a garment of praise for a spirit of heaviness.” Yep, it’s like that – a spirit of heaviness. The prophet Isaiah spoke of those that were mourning in Zion, that the Anointed One would give them “beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness…” My blahs are hardly in the category of the mourning that was going on in Zion, but the prescription remains the same: put on a garment of praise. So I offer up my praises to our King by displaying a bit of His glory, light to lighten the darkness.

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“Comfort, comfort, ye My people,” saith your God.

Ah, that’s better.

I’ll probably delete this in the mourning.

Wanting to write a little story about small Saul the northern bog lemming, I thought I should do a little research. What’s it like in Saul’s world? When we went to Big Bog State Park last year, we were amazed at how interesting it was in bog-land.

I’ve printed out a few little articles about bog lemmings and have a library book about bogs. I don’t have a story yet, but I did a couple illustrations of the carnivorous plants in the bog. When we were there, we saw tons of pitcher plants, but the sundew plants were past their season.

That’s all I’ve got for today – a story is brewing in the brain but not yet materialized on the screen. It’s about as mysterious a process as life is in the bog.

The unsuspecting blog post wanders too close to the sundew in the morning…GULP!