My daughter is what some people might call a “character.” She’s not necessarily a ham; as a matter of fact, she doesn’t usually care to have attention called to herself. But every day I discover something new and interesting (and often, entertaining) about her.
When we were driving to Paris with the grandparents, Gwamma the RN wanted to take a look at a sore that D.D. had on her wrist. From the back seat, I heard, “You’re pressing on my weak spot!” In retaliation, she pressed—hard—on Gwamma’s “weak spot”: her voice box. That’ll learn her!
But D.D. got back into Gwamma’s good graces by giving her a water-bottle full of kisses when we returned home. She has since bestowed such a bottle on her dad. Where’s mine?!
When we went to Versailles, she was a bit bored, as you could imagine an 8-year-old to be. She insisted on keeping her empty drink bottle from lunch, and since we were going to tour the gardens next, we figured, “Why not?” So we got a jug-band accompaniment through the gardens of Versailles.
I found a note in my Palm, but I’m not sure where we were when she cheerfully inquired, “Who wants to dress up like a tree?” Farther down in the note, she informed us that her itchy ears were caused by chicken bones and Caesar salad in her ears. O-kay.
She has the power to be unintentionally cruel, but also kind. I was sitting on the bed, changing into my jammies, when she commented, “Those panties make your butt look bigger than it really is.” So charming!
But she can also break my heart a little. Last night, she wrapped her Molly doll in a blanket, deposited her at the foot of my chair, and ran behind the couch to hide. I looked down at Molly, who had a post-it note stuck on her blanket: “Please love her.” Crack—there went my heart. She explained that she wanted me to treat Molly well, not like the Dursleys treat Harry Potter.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Life—Live It! *
Monday was a whirlwind of activity for all of us. L.H. was out the door by 5:25 to take the bus to the train station, where he caught the first shuttle to the regional airport ... and still didn’t make his flight. So he ended up taking an alternate route; at least he made it to Sweden, if not his final destination in Sweden, on the same day he left home.
D.D.’s first day of school went without a hitch. I’ve managed to get her to school on time every day this week (if just barely yesterday), and although she had homework already on the first day, she hasn’t complained about it too much. Except about her times tables, which I force her to practice.
Her first ballet class since July also went better than she had expected. They have a recital in 4 weeks, and D.D. remembered their dance well enough that she was able to hiss directions at the girl in front of her, who, unfortunately, was just as clueless before the summer vacation. D.D. claims she wants to drop ballet, but I told her that she’d have to wait until xmas break at the earliest. When I asked her what kind of class she would like to take instead—L.H. and I agree that she needs a couple of extracurricular activities—she answered, “Play with my friends?” Wrong!
I made a list of about a hundred million errands to do on Monday, so once I got D.D. safely tucked away at school, I headed to town. By 1, I had done everything possible on my list, and I was ready to lie down and never get up again. Since Monday, I have contented myself with piddling, time-wasting chores around the house, but I really need to work on my paper that’s due October 1. Eek!
Of course, in the midst of all this busy-work, I had an idea for another story, and a flash of insight on a work-in-progress. Not the best timing, eh? But it seems that the more mental power I am devoting to life and stuff, the more the creative juices get flowing. (Actually, I hate that phrase—I always have a mental image of a thawing turkey dripping blood. Ick!) One day I’ll get it together and complete some of these stories floating around in my head, but not today.
* Thanks, Louie Anderson, for the best philosophy of life ever.
D.D.’s first day of school went without a hitch. I’ve managed to get her to school on time every day this week (if just barely yesterday), and although she had homework already on the first day, she hasn’t complained about it too much. Except about her times tables, which I force her to practice.
Her first ballet class since July also went better than she had expected. They have a recital in 4 weeks, and D.D. remembered their dance well enough that she was able to hiss directions at the girl in front of her, who, unfortunately, was just as clueless before the summer vacation. D.D. claims she wants to drop ballet, but I told her that she’d have to wait until xmas break at the earliest. When I asked her what kind of class she would like to take instead—L.H. and I agree that she needs a couple of extracurricular activities—she answered, “Play with my friends?” Wrong!
I made a list of about a hundred million errands to do on Monday, so once I got D.D. safely tucked away at school, I headed to town. By 1, I had done everything possible on my list, and I was ready to lie down and never get up again. Since Monday, I have contented myself with piddling, time-wasting chores around the house, but I really need to work on my paper that’s due October 1. Eek!
Of course, in the midst of all this busy-work, I had an idea for another story, and a flash of insight on a work-in-progress. Not the best timing, eh? But it seems that the more mental power I am devoting to life and stuff, the more the creative juices get flowing. (Actually, I hate that phrase—I always have a mental image of a thawing turkey dripping blood. Ick!) One day I’ll get it together and complete some of these stories floating around in my head, but not today.
* Thanks, Louie Anderson, for the best philosophy of life ever.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
My Worst Fear as a Writer
from CNN International online:
Failure, escape and 'The Outsiders': Francis Ford Coppola remembers a labor of love
...
He's taken a year's break from "Megalopolis," a script about New York in the future that he's labored on for more than two decades.
" 'Megalopolis' is like being in love with a beautiful woman who doesn't want you," he said. "So you don't get to meet anyone else and you don't get her."
Failure, escape and 'The Outsiders': Francis Ford Coppola remembers a labor of love
...
He's taken a year's break from "Megalopolis," a script about New York in the future that he's labored on for more than two decades.
" 'Megalopolis' is like being in love with a beautiful woman who doesn't want you," he said. "So you don't get to meet anyone else and you don't get her."
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