Sunday, January 30, 2011

Grandma Pronounces it "Beau-ling"

That really is how she says it.

It goes back to an old family story involving Poppy's woefully misguided (according to Grandma) purchase of a pick-up truck. Grandma took one look at the truck in her driveway, and asked Poppy -- with great dollops of unapologetic, snarky snobbery -- if he planned to carry his "beau-ling bahllll" around in it.

(I think Poppy ended up returning the truck.)

And so we all pronounce it this way, and are sure to give Grandma a call when we have a chance to go "beau-ling."

This weekend it was the Eldest Girl-Next-Door's 10th birthday party at Lucky Strike.

(What's with all these 10th birthdays anyway? As if it's 'the thing to do,' this turning 10 nonsense: "But mah-ahm! Ah-ahl the cooooool kids are turning 10..." Hmph.)

Next-Door Mama hand-painted the super-cool tees, and made the yummy mini-cupcakes.

Sadly, the fantastic photo-booth at Lucky Strike has been replaced with a digital fauxto booth. Still, there was boothing (happy, sad, silly [with-bonus-'Turtle Face'], asleep).

It probably ought to be mentioned that Ander also attended a roller-skating 10th birthday party yesterday.

It might therefore be prudent to state for the record that Ander has never been to a roller-rink, and as far as we can remember has never roller-skated.

(Yeah, I know. But there are an insane number of driveways in our neighborhood. And crazy ficus-root-tectonics.)

This is likely also a good place to confess that the last time I was personally wearing lace-up shoe-skates I was also wearing rainbow suspenders, stripey toe-socks, and Dittos, and sporting a Dorothy Hamill "wedge".

This may actually have been at a friend's 10th birthday party.

So you can imagine the grace and decorum Ander and I exhibited on the small, crowded, but utterly charming rink at Moonlight Rollerway.

Let's just say there might have been some wall-hugging, snort-laughing, uber-cool skating-with-a-purse-over-the-shoulder, and even a smattering of crawling worked into our skating programme.

But as there is no photo evidence, I'm going to say that last sentence describes only Ander's trip around the rink.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Home from School

They both had bad stomachs last night, and neither of them got much sleep.

And rather than schlepping across town to get their peaky selves to school, then schlepping back home only to receive a call that one or both of them wasn't feeling well, and then having to schlep forth and back again, I erred on the side of less-schleppage.

They ate many slices of toast and drank many cups of tea.

Aliza watched a "Rainbow Brite" movie from the 80s, while Ander played Epic Mickey.

Ander painted a Munny with chalkboard paint, and decorated another vinyl figure with Sharpies and duct tape. Aliza worked in her dry-erase math workbook.

But otherwise they willingly spent most of today in each other's company.

From Aliza's first words this morning ("I want to go to Ander"), to Skyping Grandma on their own, to Ander buttoning up the back of 'Za's nightgown tonight, they were such a sweet little team.

I admit, I felt a bit left out. (But then again, I really, really, really appreciated not being called every two seconds.)

I started to apologize to Ander tonight, saying this hadn't been a typical sick day -- no one-on-one time, no reading together, no Doctor Who. And he said, no, it had not been that sort of sick day -- it had been much more fun than that, with Aliza home from school too.

Also today:

Ander made me (extra-fancy) coffee.

He cuddled George.

And there was much inky illuminating around the table, largely inspired by Saturday night's viewing of "The Secret of Kells."

He did eventually draw in all the scales, and that infinity-lizard/O was followed by nce upon a time...

(This is what happens when you let a 6 year-old give your over-washed hands a manicure, and then you do a less-than-tidy job of opening bottles of ink.)

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Fryman Canyon Hike With a Hot Pink Plastic Holga In-Hand

Dubbadad does not share my enthusiasm for serendipitous light-leaks, double-exposures, and lint (hair?) in the viewfinder.  Where I see "retro" or "ethereal," he sees "intentionally crummy photography."

But he agrees that the Holga weighs almost nothing, and so is nice to take along on a hike.

In the Back Garden (77 Degrees)

That rad enameled unicorn pendant? Mine, circa 5th grade. (Though the groovy brass hoop-style necklace it dangled from is long gone.)

A&A felt very "Little House on the Prairie," (they said), climbing the lemon tree* in the side yard.

*Guilty confession: for years -- as we picked unripe green lemons -- we thought it was a lime tree.

Left Behind at Sunday Brunch

(click on the photo)

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Dreams of BDNSV and BRMM (A Leisurely-but-Packed Day)

First there was ballet for Aliza (a bit too early for my taste, but then again, I got to read this and watch a Zumba class.)

And then there was a drawn-out game of this:

They call it "Ninja" (which is all sorts of wrong as it is not at all sneaky and is much much more samurai-y).

(What? Of course that's a word. Sam-u-rai-y.)

The game was invented by two girls at school last week, and it involves pulled-at-the-last-second sword swipes or karate chops (not sure which).

If your opponent touches your arm or leg, you 'lose' that limb. The player who loses all four limbs first, um, loses.

It is understandably not very popular with the teachers' aides at recess.

(Aliza has lost her right arm here.)

Meanwhile, the minifigs were busy guarding something.

The skeleton robot and sparkly-pageboy-clown were uncertain about how to approach.

(Ander made this box from pieces cut from another box [???] and a lot of packing tape. It houses the minifig bits quite nicely.)

Later Dubbadad hoisted the boyo's bike over the fence at the high school, and they had a good long practice. (It may be time for a larger bike.)

Aliza made me coffee in the sunlit kitchen.

And somewhere in there George the Cat had a bath.

And Dubbadad and I pulled weeds and trimmed the shrubberies*.

And we took a walk to kidrobot.

And we all watched the amazing, glorious, seriously-why-didn't-it-get-an-Oscar-last-year THE SECRET OF KELLS -- which blew Ander's mind and scared the pajeebers out of Zaza.

And so Aliza is currently tucked up on a cushion-bed on the floor of Ander's room, and they are both dreaming of illuminated manuscripts featuring Ballet-Dancing Ninja-Samurai-Vikings and Bike-Riding Minifig-Monks.

*45 or 46 seconds into that clip -- can't ever use the word without hearing this in my head