I'm About Two Catch-Ups Behind At This Point...

Is this what blogging is to be like from now on? Always trying to cram weeks into sentences, and hoping that a few pictures tell my story while I'm off creating more experiences than I can ever tell of? Well, I suppose as long as I like sleeping and the house needs extra cleaning from summer dirt, perhaps indeed.

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ARTISTIC ENDEAVORS:

Josephine has entered that awesome kid art stage that I have been waiting with baited breath for. A spurt in maturity and the lengthening of her attention span means that she's able to dedicate the time to make the images she concieves. And thankfully, her inherited lack of patience keeps the images simple, and not over-worked.

For example:

"Chicky With Egg", Josephine Good, June 2008. Crayon on paper.

(the spot in the egg is the germ (germination) of another chicky. She's familiar with that because of a poster at Riverdale Farm that has pictures rather like these images. Note: Charmingly backward name-writing, with misspelling. It's not always written like this - but when it is, I love it dearly.)


"Chicky Family", Josephine Good, June 2008. Crayon on Paper.
(A different variety of chicken, with feathers, combs and one sitting on an egg with "a germ" in it. Not pooping, as I'd thought. Also, note that the germination of a chicken is being confused with the germs that are in raw eggs that mommy is always freaking about.)



"Father's Day Card", Josephine Good. Crayon, Construction Paper, Glue.


(From left to right, Faline, Bambi, Josephine, Me and Steve. You know, our family.) Sadly this was caught in the rain, hence the splatters.)

Interior "Father's Day Card"


(From left to right: Josie kissing Steve, and me.)



and, last but not least, and representing a new awareness heretofore unseen in the artist:


"Grandma and Papa", Josephine Good, June 2008. Pencil on Ikea Smalland form.
(Please note: circles instead of curved line mouths. This represents, in the artist's own words "I drew their mouths open because Grandma N is always talking and Papa E is so loud when he talks."

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Oh yes...that. The stub from an Ikea play area drop-off. Well, this is because it's been unduly rainy on our days together lately, and last week I needed to go shopping somewhere for a sun umbrella for the patio since our years-old one broke beyond repair. I'm assuming that there will be long sunny afternoons in the future. There were no umbrellas to be found there that day, for the record; but I did find that even though your child had diarrhea in the ball pit on a previous visit, they'll still let her back in to play there.

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Other than that, I'm looking for some papers that I have stashed in a big footlocker, and in going through that, I keep getting hit with blasts from the past.


A little thing Steve made up years ago when Josephine was, to put it politely, going through a phase:


Me, then, at the age Josephine is now. But of course, that outfit was 100% pure polyester knit.


If you know me, that smile is not my real smile. But it doesn't matter, because my own mother can't tell the difference. And that outfit cost a lot of money, and "why don't we dress our daughter nice like that"?




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As well, I'm busy with neighbourhood stuff.

Both with the store, and a committee, and thinking about starting a neighbourhood watch for our street. I'm a bit disappointed to have learned that the Neighbourhood Watch does not let me patrol the street with a vest and flashlight and clipboard, but I'll get over it.

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This:


Is causing concern, only because it means we have to practice being places by 8:45 in the morning. Two out of three human household members here are not "morning people". There is no prize for guessing which two.

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The one human who is a "morning person" does not take well to having his good humour assaulted, and will actually take the time to create in order to let the others know this.


"News Bulletin", Steve Good, June 2008. Crayon on Paper.



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So there it is, some of it at least. Think of this as skimming the foam off the top of some soup stock - once the froth is out of the way, we can see clearly into the depths of what might be something better soon.

The Illustrated Busy-ness of Us.

I am not looking at the date of the last time I posted.

I have been, well, busy. To recap, as briefly as I can ever be:


Planting annuals, some in the crack under the bottom porch stair. Josie did it all by herself. By the way ...four. Squint and she could be twelve. I know.



We found mushrooms under the daylilies. Yes, Josephine you're right. They do look like ballet skirts. And stop looking twelve.

GARAGE SALES. West German pottery vases for $3 aside, the teak chairs for $6 got my nightie in a knot. That was $6 for the pair. Yes, I'll show you them. Sometime. We're busy.


Oy, the garden. It's Miss Haversham. I need to sharpen my clippers and tie up some business, but I'd like not to get soaked and covered with a gazillion tiny white flower petals while doing so.


And the lawn furniture is now beyond shabby chic. The crappy weather is conspiring with my lack of having an entire day to devote to sanding and painting it. In the meantime, isn't rust beautiful, in it's own way?


Besides, my desk, is a mess. My "IN" basket is full. It also appears that I do not have an "OUT" basket.


After dinner, there are various activities we're doing to get Josephine ready for kindergarten. I bought a few packs of stuff from the scrapbooking section a dollar store. FYI: Do not assume that 26 pieces in a pack means the actual entire alphabet is in there. FYI: If you buy two packs, it does not mean you'll get the whole alphabet either. That's okay. You can still spell stuff. Just not everything.


You can also learn to read using Daddy's tattoos.



In this household, it's more important that you learn your country stars anyway.


She's got "Burning Ring of Fire" down pretty well by now.



I'm excited about the world's cutest laundry soap, purchased at the Leslieville Tree Festival:



We went to the Riverdale Art Walk and the only thing that mattered to Josie, and Bambi, was the magician's bunny, named Shakira.


We went to a birthday party where I was mesmerized by Henry's chin, and had to take a macro shot:



Josie's face was painted like a tiger, and she ate her treats accordingly:



We went to Woofstock, and the only dog that mattered there was this one:



I don't think you understand how cute this dog was:


I don't think you're getting it. I asked her to roll him in butter and put him between two halves of a bun:



Steve had a gig, and I worked the door. It was like I was 23 again, passing out buttons and busting folks who just wanted to stay for one beer. I had to steal the stamp for their hands from Josephine's Halloween kit though. That's one thing that was different. Oy.



The marquee was corrected to say Coupe. It was funnier when it said Tenn Voodoo Couple:


Not enough letters to spell Tennessee either, I guess. Doesn't matter. I love their country version of Depeche Mode's "Just Can't Get Enough".

All Josie cares about is getting a ride on the amp anyway:



And busy with stuff like sorting out toys, and finding that rediscovered toys are awesome, and that I should threaten to donate something daily.


But really, if we had nothing but Bambi, life would still be pretty great. Bambi is the be-all-end-all.



Steve brought me dessert tonight - green tea ice cream. The choice of strawberry Pocky with it was unusual. And now, he's upstairs doing his business's taxes and I hear him listening to Solomon Burke's Valley of Tears.

I think he's trying to tell me something.



Like I said. Busy.