Archives for November 2005

1. My dad was a terrible singer…terrible…all nasally and tone deaf.

2. And yet he sang a good amount: in church, while shaving, and on Saturday or Sunday mornings to his Mahalia Jackson records.

3. He had one song for shaving and was usually content to belt out one line, “In my old rendezvous, where I first met you.” It’s because of this that when I first read the word that looked like, “Ren Dezz Vus” I was able to quickly pluck the real pronunciation from my auditory memory.

For the first time I wonder if he was picturing a place when he was singing that song.

I can’t write down every word The Bean says, but I should – it’s that good. She has been a kitten practically nonstop. She has taken to licking her paw, I mean fist, in a manner disturbingly like a real kitten and when not meowing talks in a kitteny little voice. Last night she wouldn’t let me be the Mother Cat and instead was snuggling up to someone imaginary in the corner of the couch. I really protested that. Today she relented and I almost blew it forgetting that she was a kitten,

“I am a kitten” she meowed, “and you are the Mudder Cat.”

Tonight we put her in some new footed jammies that are a pale pink. She was all soft and cuddly. I put her in her crib and then was stroking her back before prayers. She relaxed and stretched out, sighing and I thought how extraordinary it is that you can kiss children goodnight, touch them gently and appropriately, pray with them and in so doing create a safe place.

If that’s not amazing power…

Rocking the cradle, Baby.

It is very cold and windy here today and grey – dark. It is the sort of day that can only be justified by having a good cup of coffee and a donut. Sadly I am fresh out of donuts and am in some sort of coffee slump.

I have made a cup of St. John’s Wort tea that is steeping as I write. A very sprightly looking man named Yogi Bhajan (pictured on the side of the box) assures me he created this healing formula to serve me: body, mind and spirit.

I will keep you posted.

C. Riley loves to make signs and post them on his door.

A sampling from the last couple of days:

“I need some privacy. thank you.”

Another had a picture of someone on their knees, looking nude and a little worried, with the international sign for NO over him and the verbage underneath said, “And this means YOU!” I was a little concerned until I found out it was a No Babies Allowed sign specifically directed at a baby who was visiting last night.

At the moment he is working on one that says, “No naked people allowed, except me.”


So there you go.

You’ve been warned.

Where is the love?

I post about my little boy (Did I mention he’s deaf?) and tell you about his visual impairment and my concerns therein, but does my cyber community rally around me in my time of need?

No.

All I’m hearing is crickets.

True, that is a very peaceful sound if they are real, but metaphorical crickets rub a mournful dirge.

………………………………

The father says, “I think he looks cute and I’m not just saying that because I read your post.”

I think he looks cute too, like a cute kid in slightly old ladyish glasses.