tollipop

hey, guess what? we got rid of our television over the weekend and it wasn't even my idea!

So my husband, the guy who grew up with like, fourteen televisions in his house to my zero, suddenly came up with the idea of going TV-free.  When he mentioned it to me, I was all, "Did my mom just appear to you in a dream or something?"  Because I know she is skipping around paradise right now, high-fiving the heavenly hosts.

So what does that mean, going TV-free?  Well, apparently it does not mean tossing the actual box to the curb, which probably would have caused us all to break out into hives and left a gaping chasm in our house where the shrine is supposed to be.  No, it's still there.  It's just no longer connected to any sort of network that would allow access to even the most basic of programs (which is what we had before).  I guess we will keep it around for the girls to watch movies on from time to time, so they can't grow up and write memoirs about their deprived childhood (mine should be coming out any day now).

Although I must admit my husband did manage to surprise me with this move, it doesn't feel like some dramatic change in the current for us.  I don't think I turned on the television once this summer, barring a few attempts at channel-surfing that left me feeling frustrated and vaguely insulted with the fare.  I'm too bored even thinking about it to climb up on that soap box, so I'll spare you the rant about tripe and mediocrity in broadcasting. 

Sorry if that makes me sound overly exacting and severe.  Or crotchety.  My standards aren't that high, trust me (witness the dusty bookcase), and there are a few programs I quite adore...but I'm not sorry to be releasing our cable juice back into the atmosphere.  I doubt I'll even think about it after this blog post. 

Possibly the one person yet to absorb the shock is Caroline, who will no longer be able to watch "Arthur" on PBS.  Sorry about that, Coco.  Remember this for your memoir: I'm the one who got you hammies.  Daddy's the one who ruined your childhood.

Anyway, all this to say it was a lovely weekend, featuring a brunch with girlfriends, trips to international markets, cooking with my brother, and family and friends over for an evening of cards. 

Oh, and girls with short hair.  Lately I've been in the mood to draw those.

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.

paging my design sensei

  

I took the plunge and did another wall installation the other day.  Forgive me, but I get such pleasure from calling it a wall installation.  I think you have to live in Manhattan to be allowed to say those words, and even then, only in certain burroughs...

How does one negotiate a wall installation?  To be honest, it reminds me of the way Priscilla builds her nest.  You scurry around the house grabbing bits and bobbins, burrowing under beds to retrieve lost artifacts with your teeth, pausing to contemplate, setting something in one place and then deciding, no!, it should go over there!  Then you go run on a wheel to burn off all that adrenaline.  You see?  Just like a hamster!

   

But what I really want is the opinion of my design sensei...

 

One of my favorite curios is this magical papercut by the impossibly gifted Elsita.  It's a tiny bird resting on a thistle blossom, rendered in such detail you can practically see his heart beating.  Or maybe it's my heart beating.  That's how I feel when I look at it.   

I adore this room.  I even adore the dust in this room.  Having dusty bookcases makes such a statement, darling!  It says, "Hi there, I'm too literary to come down to earth and dust."  You should try it sometime.

As you can see, I like candles, mirrors, and girls who get into things they are not supposed to touch.

 

Ah, a lovely view of my cinder block walls.  Takes me back to the good ol' days in "the yard."

*****

Dear reader, it's Friday.  Where did the week go?  I've hosted two dinners and a breakfast, packed a thousand lunches (or so it seems), started practising the piano again, spent some lovely time in the studio, visited my friend and her darling new baby, made smoothies, danced around the house, talked to siblings, wondered if I am really going to make good on my plans to master French (did I say master?  is there a word that denotes a lesser degree of accomplishment?), attended music lessons, did not go for any runs, endured minimal housework, and of course tackled the epic wall installation (sorry, but you should try to work the words wall installation into your conversation whenever possible...just like slotted spoon.)

It has been nice.  But it has also been very quiet.  Thank goodness I have legions of spindly-legged hamsters to keep me company!

Wishing you a lovely weekend...

getting ready for the fourth day of school

Caroline (mesmerized by her reflection in the mirror): Mom, I sure am glad you married a red headed guy.

Me (focused on the french braid to end all french braids): Is that so?

Caroline: Do you want to know why?

Me: I think I know where you're going with this...

Caroline (exuberantly): Because I LOVE my red hair!

the world traveller

The world traveller sat on a stump in a field of lavender, looking out over a narrow valley hemmed on one side by soft, rolling hills and on the other a dark forest.  Beyond the hills there were more hills.  There were mountains, trees, rivers, and a marvelous bramble patch of periwinkle berries.  There were towns with schools and libraries and bus stations.  There were paths and highways.  After that came the sea.

The world traveller sat calmly on her stump, as if she could see it all. 

A rabbit came along.  It was a lovely evening, just the right amount of crisp, and she said as much to the world traveller.

The world traveller agreed, then added by way of introduction: "I am a world traveller."

The rabbit drew closer.  "Dear me, isn't that exciting!  Where have you been?," she asked.

The world traveller scrutinized her knitting for a moment. "I have been to this stump.  And from this stump I can see the entire world."

The rabbit, who was just a country bunny, had never dreamed of anything beyond the field of lavender.  "What is the entire world?," she asked.

The world traveller sighed.  "Ever so many places," she said, "There's a place called Bhopal, for example."

The rabbit had never heard of Bhopal, and it made her exceedingly anxious.  To calm her nerves, the world traveller offered the scarf she was knitting. 

"You see?  It is a topographical map of the Andes mountains," she explained kindly.  And sure enough, it was!  Knit, purl, knit two, purl.  The replica was exact. 

The little rabbit slipped on the scarf, suddenly feeling very cosmopolitan.

There was a moment of silence as the new friends enjoyed the evening together.

"Do you think...," ventured the rabbit shyly.

"Yes?," prompted the world traveller.

"Do you think I could be a world traveller like you?"

The world traveller paused to consider her stitchwork.  The Andes mountains always gave her such fits!

"Why, certainly!," she replied, moving over to make room for two, "What better way to see the world than with someone you love?"

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?

where the wild things are

Over the weekend we made a mad dash for the woods.  We, meaning my family and my brother's family.  Together, that is a lot of wild things.

My brother and his son, who is aptly named Max.

 

Some things are too sweet to be wild.  Most of the time, anyway.

All bets are off when the wild rumpus begins!

home alone

I'm not quite sure what blew through my house this morning.  Breakfast, hairstyles, the meticulous assembly of lunches, the zipping and unzipping of knapsacks, the constant checking of the clock.  What time is it?  What time is it?  Dear me, girls, you should know by now I am not the one to ask.

  

I don't know...I'm not feeling as "on board" with the whole thing this time around.  It's not so much that I can't deal with the fact all three girls will be at school for the entire day.

 

It's more this overall uneasy apprehension for how quickly it's all going.  I don't begrudge Caroline for advancing to first grade.  I begrudge her for getting her driver's license, going away to college, meeting some guy, and moving half way across the world. 

Yes, I'm that type of headcase. 

Life in general: please slow down.  I am trying to live in the moment.  I am trying to poach eggs.  But you keep running circles around me. 

In the meantime...I am home alone.  So it can't be all bad, can it?

getting ready for the first day of school

Caroline:  Mom, did anyone ever tease you at school?

Me:  Yes, sometimes.

Caroline:  Did it hurt your feelings?

Me:  Mm hmm.

Caroline:  Did you ever tease them back?

Me:  No, I didn't.

Caroline:  Why not?

Me:  Because I think the only thing worse than getting your feelings hurt is to hurt someone else's feelings.

::pause::

Caroline (softly):  Oh, yes...that would be pretty worse.