Friday, April 11, 2014

Tech Break

I guess I do more sewing than I realized, since Apple talks about it a lot and asks to be let into the sewing room to "sew" at the machines.

Apple practicing embroidery

I haven't undertaken any major projects in forever, just mending something here, a small item there.

fish for a friend

It feels good to finish something, even if it's small. I'd like to set my sights on finishing some long-overdue bigger projects. To that end, I'm taking a brief leave of absence from my usual electronic haunts. And cleaning the house and tending the babe and cool stuff like that could use some more concentrated attention, so I'm pulling the plug except for checking my email (and probably my Twitter because I am weak) a few times a day. Plus... I recently wiped my computer's password memory, as a vague precaution against the security fear sweeping the Internet- and now I can't access half my social media anyways cuz apparently I don't remember the correct passwords and the reset-password e-mails aren't working. OOPS! It was time to take a break anyways. I'm too attached to this little netbook with its shrunken keyboard and weird little touchpad that hurts my fingers. Keeping my hands off it will hopefully improve my arthritis pain there. And keeping my eyes away from the screen will hopefully improve my wandering attentiveness towards Apple's favorite pursuits of pushing toy vehicles around and making toy horses poop on pillows.

This video may or may not work, because Flickr is complete crap. 
It's Apple's toy mare pooping on the purple pillow.
If it doesn't work, QU'ELLE DOMMAGE, MES AMIS! I'm on break.

It's not for long; I hope to go two or three weeks and feel liberated, not deprived. Alas, a woman can only narrate a horse pooping on a pillow for so long before she needs funny gardening photos to shake things up.

See youz.

Monday, April 7, 2014

Apple's Room at Two Years

It's come a long way. (Apple's room at birth. Apple's room at one. )

Inviting, yes?

We took the bed out of his room, as it saw no use there. It went to live next to the big bed, where it was more loved. Getting it out of this room opened it up nicely. Until we put in a giant plastic riding horse instead, which sees a lot more use.

We got the oak flooring down so Apple's room has a proper floor, with a thick wool carpet on top. We painted the walls light green, with white trim.

I put a great deal of thought into the arrangement of the furniture, though only so many arrangements exist within the constraints of the odd little room. There is sometimes a big step stool beneath the southern window, allowing Apple to view the deck where our cat hangs out sometimes, the distant chickens and garden, and the general outdoors.

Views from my 5'5" adult perspective:

Views from Apple's 2'5"-ish perspective:

Apple and I exchanged dressers; now he has one much more Apple-sized.

music-making tools
wind chimes hung from the ceiling with a string attached 

riding horse, potty, family portraits on wall

book shelf, light table, music

more accurately, a light panel on a coffee table

print from Deviant Art in a nice frame
the low shelves with frequently-rotated playthings

self-care stuff at his disposal

The room's so much more interesting from his vantage point, eh? Which is, of course, entirely the point. I'm very pleased with this space, and with Apple's obvious enjoyment of it. 

Friday, April 4, 2014

Story Time with Jack - Heart-shaped Plastic Jewel

In fourth grade Jack was assigned to the same class as a fellow student who was earnest and polite if awkward. One day in the auditorium where she had been lined up along the wall with the other people her age in a way pleasing to the chorus teacher, Jack was afforded a relatively private moment as she clutched a folded up piece of paper she'd been slipped earlier by this young earnest fellow. As she opened the note, a small object sprang from within and skittered under the auditorium chairs. Upon scrambling to retrieve it, Jack discovered it was a small plastic heart-shaped jewel.

A brief schoolyard romance ensured, during which Jack was presented with a paperback dollar-store Bible as a birthday gift, slipped into her backpack while walking down the hallway in a sneak-attack kind of way, and during which the two outings they had together were to 1) a Bible summer camp and 2) a Bible school class. Everything about this should've been a warning. But Jack was a pretty chill, and clueless, kid.

For several years after the ending of this ill-fated dalliance, Jack attended each school dance half-hoping he would show up. Little did she know his fundamentalist Christian parents thought school dances were akin to devil worship, which is, I suspect, the worst kind of worship. (Gun worship, however, was rather encouraged. How this meshes with Jesus's whole peace and chill-out message is beyond my puny atheist comprehension.)

Despite the lack of dancing, the boy and Jack had another romantical stint in ninth grade. The boy was Jack's first kiss, though it was a sneak-attack non-consensual kiss the uncoolness of which Jack then lacked the words to describe. They broke up, perhaps due to devil-worshiping-related differences, perhaps because fourth grade awkwardness has no business in ninth graders. Jack went on to have boyfriends who were way less awkward and way more fun, whose parents were way less crazy, and who may or may not have been into devil worship. (Or Dungeons and Dragons, whatever.)

Jack would keep the little plastic trinket as a memento of the little overeager boy lost in a big cruel world with whom she bumped along for a while. For the world was cruel to him, and he did not adapt well.

Later the boy would grow up to join the armed forces, publicly and enthusiastically worship its tools of violent death, and swear that people like Jack were akin to devil worship and worthy really only of being dealt with using his favorite government-approved tools of violent death.

The world can be really really sad.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Scenes from CT

Jack, Joe, and Apple are all trying to get out the door to the library in a timely fashion. One thing after another- forgetting the grocery bags, procuring a hat, using the potty, grabbing a quick drink- delays them and brings them back into the house again and again. At last Apple is outdoors, Joe's in the doorway, and Jack is putting on her shoes. 

Joe: You have poop on your pants.

Jack confirms with a glance that she indeed has a big turd smeared into the knee of her pants and, thus, everywhere she has knelt the past ten minutes.

Jack: Such is life.