Still laughing

Gracie was just telling us about a YouTube-ing family whose smallest member has his own bathroom.  I asked, "What does he do in his bathroom?"

"I have no idea.  I've never been to their house," came the reply.

"Well, what do you do your bathroom?" I asked.

"Basically, I go in there in times of need."

When I'm bored

I had a fight with Jason two days ago.  "How could you fight with Jason?  He's the nicest guy in the world" would be an appropriate reaction from those of you who know him in person.  And you would be right.  But, remember, *I* am not the nicest person in the world.

And I was bored.

"Boredom is emotional death" should be tattooed on my forehead for everyone to see.  I don't like filling my days with endless busyness, but I can't cope with purposelessness.

Unfortunately for me, my family (both the one I was born into & the one I helped create) is populated by people who don't share my craving for adventure.  Endless YouTube videos and Minecraft is not exactly bliss, but certainly not to be sneered at....which leaves me feeling trapped.   I can't even escape into the world of pretty photos on the internet because the kids have taken over my computer.

So, Jason got to deal with my nastiness.  Lucky guy, right?  (I still don't know why he sticks by me, but he does and I'm grateful.)

In trying to find the good in my wow-I'm-bored days, I spent an early hour outside playing with my camera.  Finding interesting bits that have fallen off the palm tree and the just-sprouted peas, scallions, and beans I planted with the little girls last week.  So, in finding my real life prettiness, I hope to avoid boredom and be nicer to Jason.  Because, truly, he doesn't deserve bored me...and I don't deserve him.

Analyzing Work

I spend a lot of time thinking about home.  About how to make the spaces I live in comfortable and interesting.  About how to make living interesting.

I told a friend just before we moved from St. Louis that I'm somewhat retarded at decorating.  I realize that word is fraught with baggage from bullies and social insensitivity, but when I used it, I meant it in the literal sense.  I have a slowed, almost incapacitated, sense of how to make things beautiful.  My father had a great sense of style, but by the time I was conscious of learning how to live, his visual creativity had been largely stifled by outside forces.

I'm trying to learn, belatedly, from studying a styling expert...and I'm getting paid to do it.  Just once a week, I get to spend the day in a lovely antiques shop.  One of the co-owners has made a random collection of things that catch her fancy into a cave of treasures.  So, here are a few photos that I'm taking home to study.  And you can see the glitzy place where I work.

I'm working to figure out the "height" and "depth" of this little seating area across from the sales area.  You can't see it so much in this photo, but there's a lot of crystal in addition to the decanters in the right foreground.  The chandelier hangs slightly to the left of center and there's a small decanter on the side table.  Almost completely hidden by the mannequin is another gold-and-crystal chandelier, a Murano glass chandelier, and a set of six sherry glasses.

A bust of Shakespeare -- yes.  The Murano chandelier is the one I mentioned with the earlier photo. The crystal on the right is paired with the smaller crystal pendant in a birdcage.

This corner in the second room has always grabbed me.  The 1920s spotlight has been here since the first time I came in the shop.  It's just cool.  But what I like about this corner is how the plane propeller sets the "limit" of the image, framing the vignette.  Even though the propeller dates from WWI, it's exactly right to have the WWII army coat below it.  With the coat collar turned up, everything feels "Old Hollywood" with the spotlight and the champagne.

The Bunny Thief

"Mom!  He's stolen my bunny!" Rosie yelled passionately as I was going outside.

Graham ran passed with a small stuffed creature, evading her clutches, and she ended up on the floor.

"You know what?  I don't care."  (I'm a heartless mother sometimes.)

"But he said he's going to make a rabbit stew!" (Rosie often speak with exclamation marks. Periods/full stops are not her natural punctuation.)

"Do you believe him?"

She looked up with a brightly hopeful, and utterly unconvincing smile, "Yes."
 



(To further support my skepticism, she's sitting next to me, editing this post...and provided the title.)

A Quiet Sunday Morning

The little girls are makers.  Cutting out paper hearts and writing love notes are Rosie's favorite.  Gracie likes to cook, create with Lego, and do whatever it is that Rosie's doing.  Sometimes making valentines is a little tame, though, and empty moving boxes become rocket ships.

This morning they took their engineering prowess a step further and made a transmogrifier, a la "Calvin and Hobbes."





Unlike Calvin's original, Rosie's and Gracie's transmogrifier offers gender-reassignment; Graham thought that he'd like to use that function. The girls were agreeable, but before the transformation could take place Jason noticed our bouncy boy was especially bouncy and suggested Graham go jump on the trampoline for a few minutes.  As he went out the door, Graham announced, "I'll go take my gender outside."

Best moment all morning.

For the Whelanator...and the munchkins

My friend Sarah messaged me on FaceBook today, asking me to get back to blogging.  Coincidentally, two days ago I pulled up the blog to help Rosie with a school project and all of the kids spent at least half an hour laughing at the funny things they'd said.  Or telling me (arguing with me) how a photo of Gracie couldn't possibly be Gracie, because Gracie had never been blond....

That experience with the kids showed me how valuable the blog was in keeping our memories of life in England alive.  That's how I felt there.  Alive.  Coming back to the States, especially to the city where I was born and had a lifetime of bad memories of...that wasn't living.  So, the blog when into hibernation.

And now, fourteen months to the day that we left home, I'm writing a post.  For Sarah and Julie and Becca, and everybody else who wants to see what this post-St. Louis stage is like.   But mostly, for the munchkins.  So that when they are older they'll remember to laugh.  And that their mom loves them.

Circus Day -- 2013

 Last spring (2013) Featherbank Primary had a Circus Day to celebrate the school's fourth "Outstanding" Ofsted rating.  Ofsted assess all public schools and many day care providers & doesn't give "Outstanding" ratings often, so four in a row was a big deal.  

Anyway, Graham was our strong man.  (One of only two that I saw that day.)

Rosie was a Gypsy Fortune Teller.  Her costume was a surprise to everyone -- the only fortune teller in the school.  She loved the attention and her costume.  Her crazy, curly hair wrapped up in a scarf was the perfect look.