Bea wants me to play with her.
Not now -- because she's sleeping. But the rest of the time. For the record, taking her places - kiddie classes, field trips, parks, or shopping -- does not count. Cooking together does not count. Reading kind of counts, but not really. Doing "lessons" about letters or science experiments does not seem to count. Buying more toys for her to play with herself definitely does not count, not for long anyway. Watching shows together is desired but still does not count. Time spent doing adults chores, even those for her benefit, counts negatively. Playdates with other kids do not even count. Argh.
This is all to be expected. It should actually be appreciated and desired by a person in the right frame of mind. I know, I know. This little problem does not amount to a bean (definitely not a hill of beans) in our world full of problems. I know. And yet, tonight, I am tapped out and I send up a prayer for patience to play.
"Here's the good news: Women have become so politically powerful that even the anti-feminist right wing -- the folks with a headlock on the Republican Party -- are trying to appease the gender gap with a first-ever female vice president. We owe this to women -- and to many men too -- who have picketed, gone on hunger strikes or confronted violence at the polls so women can vote. We owe it to Shirley Chisholm, who first took the "white-male-only" sign off the White House, and to Hillary Rodham Clinton, who hung in there through ridicule and misogyny to win 18 million votes.
"72-year-old John McCain and 44-year-old Sarah Palin, whose average age is 58, a mere two years older than the average age of the Obama-Biden ticket. Enthusiastic Republicans don’t see the choice of Palin as affirmative action, despite her thin résumé and gaping absence of foreign policy knowledge, because they expect Republicans to put an underqualified “babe,” as Rush Limbaugh calls her, on the ticket. They have a tradition of nominating fun, bantamweight cheerleaders from the West, like the previous Miss Congeniality types Dan Quayle and W., and then letting them learn on the job. So they crash into the globe a few times while they’re learning to drive, what’s the big deal?" ~Maureen Dowd
Link to full article
Omar and Babs in Funny Girl
Bob and the Wailers on the set at The Old Grey Whisle Stop
| The Painter Painter | 1994 |
I'm sorta homesick. Maybe it is the heat but I'm missing Northern California -- and Oaktown in particular. Which reminds me of another blog I should tout, Meaningfulpursuit- the second on my list of top10 blogs (in no particular rank) that capture special micro cultures. The creator of this blog is a journalist and will have a memoir out soon about her urban farm experience. Another blog turned book deal success story (see Half-Assed, the memoir based on the blog Pastaqueen).
This Meaningfulpursuit sample entry says a lot about Oakland and what it means to live in the lowlands there. Other posts are about cute, fluffy animals.
Trouble Town
I hate this weed.
A reminder of my urban farm: gun fire. Two shots, very close. Somehow muffled. Now, it IS firework season, but I knew those were bullets. Eventually the cops came.
I went upstairs to take the photos, because I think the police don't like cameras.
Then I went back downstairs and kept weeding. “What happened?” A guy in a reggae hat asked. I had been eavesdropping on the cops, so I knew a man had been saot, not killed, upstairs in the apartment across the street. I became the town crier. A family who frequents the goat area drove by and asked. I grew tired of telling the news.
Then a guy named Kilo who squats in the big brick building came out and asked what happened. He seemed shocked, in awe. Since I had absorbed the information for over an hour, I said, “No big deal, it happens all the time.” Kilo and I have a strange relationship–he wants to hate me, but he can’t quite. But my casual observation set him off. “You say that–that it’s no big deal because they’re black,” he said. He sneered and looked at me with disgust. “Oh please,” I said.
He walked away, and for the rest of the day, I was haunted by his accusation. At first I was in denial. Shootings DO happen all the time here. But that I had become so casual about it–that IS disturbing. And those who die, shoot, and kill are 99% black. But was that why I was being cavalier? In my heart of hearts, I don’t think so. I think I’ve just become desensitized to the violence. I mean, how could I say a man getting shot isn’t a big deal? I pledged to apologize to Kilo, and waited for him to come back.
I weeded all the burmuda grass in the two parking strips. I overheard one of the cops, a woman, say “Happy Mother’s Day,” and then she sped off. Then I put down more mulch. I heard more gunfire. Kilo never came back.
Fourth of July and one of many bday celebrations for Ella. Thank you Bartlett's!
Beach party reunion fun. Isle of Palm SC.
I'm proud to say that my Grandaddy is 96 years old. He is so cute and always the most charming and insightful gent in the room. My Mom (*Grandma Liz) takes after him.
Delightful walkways and secret gardens in Charleston.
Sailing on the Neuse River. Oriental, NC.
Celebrating Mr What Mookie Thinks 40 th bday in Beuford and Morehead City. Thanks Roberta and Larry! And a shout out to Cafe Zito!
Tractors and boats O joy!
Giant hug from Ella after getting off the bus from Camp SeaFarer. She is still in NC for another week of camp. Sure do miss her.
Best family vacation to date!
