tollipop

weekend update: the hammies

 
Priscilla was quick to observe the latest hemlines from Paris and made a mental note to have her seamstress make a knock-off, one that showed her figure to its greatest advantage, on the double.

over the weekend...

 I rode my bike.

Dear reader, you would not believe the snake I saw out there!  Yes, I stopped to check it out.  I very nearly fell off my bike in awe.  The poor fellow was the victim of a badly timed road crossing, and all the little desert creatures trying to snack upon him were in risk of a similar fate, so I used a stick to relocate the luncheon to higher ground. 

The weight of the carcass snapped my stick in half. 

Snap!  Flop!  Wiggle!

Dear reader, imagine how high I jumped because really, weren't you wondering if that snake was faking it, too?  I think we're all familiar with a snake's capacity to play dead, when in reality it may be waiting to wrap its coils around a conscientious cyclist and drag her down to its lair of bones, laminate, and ironic décor.  The serpentine penchant for shag carpet is a well known fact around these parts. 

Just to clarify--this one really was dead.  But I swear it wiggled. 

By the by, do I really think people come to Tollipop hoping for a good snake story?  Probably not.  But this much you should know about me: some of my fondest moments have been spent chasing snakes, catching frogs, and running with wolves. 

Yet I still adore Jane Austen. 

What can I tell you?  Some people are just special that way.

I made the girls clean their room.  Finally, a culprit for all that mysterious clutter was discovered!  What a relief, as I was beginning to consider my young charges to be on the slovenly end of the spectrum.  Note to self: have some faith.  I should have known it was the hamster all along. 

 

I worked on more sad, wistful girls.

 

I wish I had a dress of this color.  If I had a dress of this color, I would never be sad.  I would only be wistful.

Caroline lasered this minuet into smithereens with her look of intense concentration.  In other news, we attended her friend's violin recital...a boy with a similar capacity for musical expression.  One day they may play a duet together and their collective ferocity will cause a nuclear meltdown.

 
Finally, we started another project.  I hesitate to mention this as I consider my (temporarily) stalled Hundred Dresses Project, my lagging goal of weekly shop updates, my ludicrous plans for a tidy studio...why should I further reveal my penchant for failure?  Why should I hold myself up to the scrutiny of the world?! 

Because this project is really cool...can you guess what it might be?  The girls and I are working on it together.  Hopefully they will help me see this through but let's face it, we are related--a fact which doesn't bode well in anyone's favor.

I will certainly give you updates if, indeed, there are any to be had.  But in case this is as good as it gets, isn't Sophie's gingerbread house a sheer delight?!

sophie's getting a ph.d in friendship bracelets

Friendship is when the friend who reluctantly agreed to adopt two male baby hamsters from your litter calls back one month later to inform you Despereaux and Toby are now the proud parents of five. 

I'm taking that phone call to mean we are still on speaking terms.  I think.

I don't know what to tell you, dear reader.  Needless to say, my credibility as a farm girl has suffered a mortal blow.  We checked and double checked those hammies.  We did not see any dots. 

That said, does anyone have any ideas for a nice gesture of apology/shower gift? 

dealing with things as they are and not as you wish they would be

Dear reader, remember when I was telling you about Izzy's hamster and the key piece of misinformation given us by the petshop associate at the time of purchase?  Well, since then I've made a few gentle hints to Izzy on the matter, only to meet with such staunch denial that I felt forced to acknowledge perhaps I was wrong after all...only in the meantime please don't let Nellie play with the other hamsters!

At any rate, a few days ago Izzy came into the kitchen and said, "Mom, I guess I might as well deal with the fact that Nellie's a boy.  Shall I name her something else, then?"

So we've been giving the matter no end of deliberation--names are a serious business around here!  Humphrey.  Nigel.  Charles.  Sebastian.  All upstanding choices, yet nothing quite captured the depth and essence of this furry fellow.  Finally we narrowed it down to something Izzy really likes, inspired by a composer of great talent and personality. 

So without further ado, please update your iPhones with the following information: the hamster formerly known as Nellie now answers to Ludwig.

Ludi for short.  And it's best pronounced with a decrepit German accent. 

It just is. 
 

je te presente: coco et gigi

Dear reader, I know there are mixed feelings out there regarding the hammies.  Some of you prefer not look upon rodents first thing in the morning.  Some of you cannot get your fill of them.

I assure you there is more to the Tollipop School of Moderately Well-Behaved Young Ladies than this.  Indeed, yes.  We are all about penmanship, the art of conversation, french-dotting whatever can be pierced with a needle, and who can forget our follies in the kitchen?  Add to that the bliss of the pianoforte, our penchant for spelling bees, the pleasure of books, long walks across the moors, and it would seem the only thing lacking is a furry little friend. 

I can now rest knowing Caroline's education is complete. 

Question:  How long will I continue to affix blooms the size of Manhattan atop my daughter's head?

Answer:  For as long as she will permit me to do so.

au revoir, les enfants

Dear reader, over the past several weeks I've received more than a few requests for closure regarding the ongoing saga of the hammies.  I know, I know--I'm as stunned about it as you are.  What could be more compelling than the story of a mysterious hamster arriving on one's doorstep?  No one knows her origins, her connections, her position in society.   What's more, she is soon discovered to be in a delicate condition!  Oh, the dismay!  The scandal!  Any other hamster would succumb to the hushed whispers, the disapproving stares, but not our Priscilla!  Head held high, she bears her young and raises them to be hirsute, upstanding members of society.

Shakespeare would give his eye teeth for such material!  Steinbeck would've had a field day.  You can't make this stuff up, dear reader.  It's Dickensian.  It's Hemingwayesque.  It makes Jude the Obscure look like a romp in the park, and you may quote me as saying so.   

At any rate, for those of you who persist in seeking closure, you may be happy to know the hammies have gone off to seek their fortune in the world.  As we speak, one is undoubtedly building a house of straw, another of sticks, and a third had the presence of mind to seek refuge in a toilet paper roll.

It's actually a pretty good story, by the way.  Just as I was about to launch our exodus to the pet shop two of my friends, women who had adamantly disavowed an interest in rodents, happened to stop by.  They ended up taking two hammies each.  Two each, dear reader.  I think they were swayed by the tiny hamster pj's and matching luggage sets.  Hey, Maryann and Cheryl: if you happen to be reading this, I congratulate you on your resolve.  

All five minutes of it. 

So our house is a lot quieter these days.  Empty.  Hollow.  What can I tell you?  That teeming pile of vermin grew on me.  So much so that we decided to keep one for Miss Caroline.  Ah, the resolve of an easily manipulated Canadian...I think my husband found it to be much cuter when we were first married.

I leave you with Priscilla's moment of closure.  It didn't seem to take her long to move forward, to get back into her skinny jeans, to rearrange the cage the way she likes it.  She's not the type of hamster who dwells on the past or second guesses herself.  She just gets on her wheel and goes.  No regrets.  No looking back.  I admire that. 

In all honesty, I think she was an amazing mother.

weekend update: the hammies

What a difference a week makes!

  

The girls are having great fun with the hammies these days.  My affection, on the other hand, has been curiously reserved.  I think I am waiting for them to get a lot cuter.  And yes, I realize these are cute pictures.  But trust me, this is the photogenic sister. 

There's a certain je ne sais quoi about the babies that makes me hesitate to sing their praises at the moment...something off putting, something altogether too rodenty (and please don't point out the obvious...I know what they are). 

For starters, could it have something to do with the fact all the caramel babies have red eyes?  Tell me if that doesn't send a shiver down your spine.  Before their eyes opened, Caroline announced she wanted a caramel colored girl hamster (oh, did I mention that little concession?  I hope I remembered to discuss it with my husband first!).

Now she can only stipulate to a girl.

And trust me, they are trying to determine which of the hamsters belongs to the fairer sex.  And I am having fun listening to their observations...whether they see "dots" or not.  A couple of times I've considered introducing more technical vocabulary, as I'm not the type who shies away from such an opportunity, but then I look at those hammies and think not everything has to be a teaching moment. You know?  Plus, I'm the one who started calling them hammies, which tells you how serious I am about the whole thing in the first place.

Off topic: Remind me to tell you this hilarious story about trusting a teenage petshop associate to confirm the sex of the first hamster we purchased, so that my daughter goes home with what she assumes to be a female.  And now, given the unprecedented immersion into hamster lore that has lately visited our home, I'm quite sure I know the difference between the two...and trust me, that hamster is no lady.

Hope you're having a lovely weekend...

how's nellie, you say?

Keeping busy with her quilting bees and not at all miffed by the attention the baby hammies are getting!

weekend update: the hammies

Dear reader, I know you don't come to Tollipop to read about hamsters.  But let's face it.  Whatever reason initially attracted you to this blog, you have surely come to realize my focus never rests on one subject for very long.  I'm pretty sure I lack that capacity.  So if by coming here you feel at the whim and mercy of an ever changing attention span, welcome to my life.  I feel just as helpless about it as you do.

(From time to time I feel obligated to include this little caveat, along with my most sincere apologies.)

At any rate, about the hammies.  They are eating food!  It's the weirdest thing, because their eyes haven't opened yet, but apparently their teeth are working just fine. 

Another thing.  They are constantly on the move.  And they can move.  Those legs may be spindly, but they do the trick.  Already they are trying to defy curfew.  I catch them hanging out in this one corner of the cage that's just shady.  Priscilla still tries to toss them back in the nest, but you can tell her resolve is weakening. 

Welcome to the club, doll.  It's a slippery slope from here on out...wait 'til they start asking for tattoos!

My greater fear, however, is that any day now there'll be a knock at the door and some crazy lady with two-toned hair and the world's longest cigarette will sweep into the room, asking to see the hammies.  When she pushes past me to inspect the cage, she'll start ranting on about mongrels and a lack of spots.  Then she'll tap ash on my head and leave.

Ah, the challenges of raising a batch of vermin to become contributing members of society!  At times one must wonder if it's all worth it.

It totally is.

dear priscilla, for mother's day you are getting a trip to hawaii

 

What can I tell you?  I love this hamster.  I revere her.  I pass by her cage several times a day and watch as she gives herself over to this nuzzling, tugging, insistent brood and feel so...inadequate.  Priscilla, you epitomize everything I aspire to be as a mother, except for the part where you ate your child.

Since that dark hour, however, it does appear things have been looking up for this illustrious pile of hammies.  They have sprouted ears.  They are not so bald.  They have been observed taking wobbly excursions from the nest...excursions which are brought to an abrupt halt by Priscilla clamping onto their legs and dragging them back home.  When this happens, I always catch my breath...heaven knows this world only needs one Stumpy!

Incidentally, I have made a cursory census of the babies, and I do believe there are yet eleven in the nest.  Eleven, dear reader.  That means there were (at least) twelve to begin with!  Pardon me while I swoon off my rocker. 

You see what I mean about the trip to Hawaii?