Saturday, February 28, 2009

A Quiet Afternoon in the Kitchen







Zaza asked if she could wash the dishes.

Let this day be marked on all calendars!
Praise be to the Montessori Goddess!

Unfortunately, I had just finished washing the dishes.

And so I gave her some perfectly clean (plastic) dishware to wash and rinse over and over and over, drought be damned.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen-adjacent ex-breakfast-room that is now the office-laundry-room, Ander concentrated so hard on 'evolving' his Spore creation that his ears turned bright red.

Somewhere it is Snowing


Thursday, February 26, 2009

Giselle in Bat Glasses, a Fairy Queen with Karate Skillz, and a Troll




Why yes, our coffee table is actually a costume chest. It seems that we have only the thinnest veneer of adult decor these days.

And, as ever, a big HUZZAH to the Thrifting Goddess: Ander's Troll tunic, Zaza's irridescent cape and the broach holding it in place, as well as the 'Giselle' dress, all came from thrift stores.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Laundry, Backposting, Antarctica


The drier is keeping Jorge el Gato Loco and I very toasty whilst he naps and I backpost.

Laundry has reached critical mass (Ander is out of clean trousers, and I've been reminding the kids to put their dirty clothes "in the hallway pile" instead of "in the hamper" for over a week).

Thus I am attempting to multi-task -- or-- more correctly -- I am trying to bi-task.

There's new-old stuff back in October (but still no Halloween or Christmas posts - oh the shame!), and a bunch of things filling in those pesky February gaps.

Thus far, 2009 is like one of those sped-up time-lapse films of a glacier: slippery, massive, ultimately impossible to outrun (whoops there goes Halloween 2008 under the ice).

At least it's populated with amusing and distracting little penguins (wearing freshly-laundered tuxedos)...


Tuesday, February 24, 2009

The House Filled with Light and Pink Sugar and Children and Friends












At various times and mostly overlapping there were five kids and four ladies hanging around in or passing through the kitchen.

Honey-thick golden afternoon light poured through the kitchen curtain and pooled in the sink. Silver ribbons of laughter unspooled from the swingset and through the back door. Everything smelled of dish soap and baked sugar and fresh soil, and I tried very very hard to hold onto it all, to hold it still -- not frozen, but floating in amber.

Thumping sock feet on the hard wood floors. Muddy crocs thrown willy-nilly in the entry. Scones in the oven. Sunlight in their hair, in their lashes as they stir stir stir. Wooden spoons to lick.

A jerky ballet of cars and carseats was necessary for all this to come together. Zaza's playdate-mate is still lightweight enough to ride in a ginormous harness-style carseat. A seat whose dimensions would make fitting Ander and Miss Kitty into the car, umm, impossible. So jessica swooped to the big kids' (and my) rescue, and was turning cartwheels with Miss Kitty on the front lawn as I ran in with the little girls. Miss Kitty's Daddy-O okayed a last-minute playdate, and so Ander had somebody with whom to giggle maniacally while the wee girls played beauty parlour. jessica played with my camera. Katie-Mama arrived to drop off borrowed tea-things with Little Miss G in tow. G shrugged off the beauty parlour game and the impending scone-making, preferring to chase the big kids around the back yard.

Scones were made, with lots and lots of 'extras' (gel food coloring, sparkly sugar, candy sprinkles). Scones were eaten. Scones were sent home on polka-dotted plates. Children and a bunch of people who love them danced and cartwheeled through, and nobody wanted to leave or be left.

So let's not leave.

Here is our afternoon, caught in amber by jessica.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Ice Cream (and Beignet) Friday at Bennet's and the Gumbo Pot














It was all Miss Kitty's fault, really.

She was still hungry after her strawberry ice cream. And she had never had a beignet.

And Mardi Gras is coming up, and I was daydreaming about the French Quarter and the streetcars and cemeteries and King Cake.

So you can see that I clearly had no choice.

(Perhaps I shouldn't have been so surprised at how sugar-silly everybody was on the car-ride home...)

Me Too!




Mostly she's still moving the camera away from her face before it has had a chance to record the image. But she's loooooooking, and learning, and lugging around that pinkypink camera.

Photographander





















Which is not to say that even the majority of his pictures turn out like this.

I delete HUNDREDS of self-portraits-shot-up-his-nose-or-into-his-mouth. But yes, I do save some if they are in focus. They make me snicker wickedly into my coffee.

And there are more shots of bottoms than I would prefer (his own -- well, mostly). These I delete with gusto. I promise, if there was anything even remotely art-y or nice about their composition I would save them. But that hasn't happened.

Yet.

And as his nearest-at-hand subjects are often unwilling to be photographed, he ends up cataloguing the contents of his room (over and over).

But now and then -- working with either of his low-res cameras -- he captures fleeting beauty and magical light as seen from four feet off the ground.