Lost Boys

Came downstairs this morning to find this.


Friday night Erik came home from the store with the boys and their new $5.50 bows and arrows. Immediately this was added to what I think of as "unexpected allowances" — things that, if you had asked me when I righteously started out on this parenting adventure, I would never have allowed. Four-year-olds watching Star Wars movies? No. Seven-year-olds in wrestling? No. Bows and arrows? NO. But, you know, boys happen.

They woke up before dawn and started playing "Indians." They made headdresses with elaborate scenes drawn on them. Explanation of Eli's headdress: "The Indians are running away from the big bear into the house, and then the chief Indian came and he got out his bow and arrow and starting shooting the bear." Explanation of Jackie's headdress: "A bunch of Indians and the sun (the sun has sunglasses) are running away from the big tornado and one Indian got sucked up into the tornado and some of the Indians are trying to take the sun's sunglasses." Epic.

They drew pictures of animals and taped them to the wall and hunted them, colored a fire to cook with, and built an earthen lodge out of couch cushions.




Eli appointed himself Chief, and Jackie was "Chief's Apprentice." Jackie would begin a sentence with, "Eli?...," then cut himself off and say, "I mean, excuse me, Chief?"



Here they enjoy a brief breakfast break — cereal for the Chief, oatmeal (two helpings) for the Chief's Apprentice.

Chief dragging Chief's Apprentice off the battlefield.


"You were shot the in back with two arrows, but you're going to be okay. I'm going to get the medicine man."

Then Erik woke up, made himself an even more elaborate headdress than either of theirs, and announced, "There's a new chief in town, boys."

And that's why he, my friends, is the source of all my unexpected allowances.

Sanibel Island

Snowlashes

He gets the motor running

Returned from our two-week vacation to find the battery dead on the car we left behind. Pictured is Erik, charging said battery. He's such a manly-man.

Additionally, I was accused of "spying on [him]" for taking this through the window of a darkened room in the house. Whatever.

So I could wiss you Merry Cwissmass...

Mary plucked cherries while Joseph stood around

I would love to go back to this tree today and get some photos of the berries in our current snowstorm but, you know, I'm battening down the hatches.

Most. Mature. Photographer. Ever.

This is a select excerpt from the "CLASSROOM BUILDING" sign on my campus. I was waiting to meet a student who never showed so I was feeling a bit snarky.

It also reminds me of a friend from college, whom I was constantly (and correctly) accusing of being "sassy." Then when a store called "Four Seasons" in my third-rate hometown mall went out of business and left its sign behind, I stole the letters S-A-S-S and gave them to my friend, who hung them on her dorm room wall with some degree of pride.

If anyone wants a wall-sized enlargement of this photo I will totally do that for you at cost.

Never leave the Lord unattended

I was at a Catholic wedding with my Jewish aunt, who nudged me to take a picture of this sign. Neither of us had much idea what it meant, but we both liked the language of it, outside of a religious context. There are few committed adorers of any kind in this world, I think. Anytime — AM, PM — we could use some.

On the road again

I took this this weekend while driving, in inclement weather. Because I'm smart like that. But I'm completely enamored with highway shots, and I like how the colors and the purposely slowed shutter speed took form.

Well, THAT was embarrassing

I took Chuckie to the vet yesterday because his belly had become increasingly distended over the past several months. That and (I apologize in advance) he's had loose stools. I was convinced he was afflicted with some sort of serious intestinal ailment. I was concerned for his well-being.

It was a bad sign when I arrived and all the veterinary assistants were like, "My, he's gotten BIG," and "Ooh, Chuckie, you're a BIG boy aren't you?" and "Wow, he's really GROWN since the last time we saw him."

Not, "Chuckie doesn't look well."

Just, "Your cat has a fat, fat ass."

They weighed him and he's now 14.8 lbs, meaning he's gained more than three pounds in less than three months.

The vet, a laid-back middle-aged biker with salt-and-pepper hair and a slight Southern accent, came in and started prodding Chuckie's enormous belly. Chuckie just lay there on the examination table, accepting it as some sort of odd pat.

"Huh," the vet said. "No sensitivity or soreness. I don't feel any unusual masses. It's not particularly firm..."

I could see where this was going.

"Chuckie here needs to lose weight."

I tried explaining to him that though Chuckie does eat constantly, we have to leave the food out because our other cat is tiny and getting smaller. Most of the time Chuckie is monopolizing the food bowl, I said, but on the off chance that Bitty comes down for a bite, shouldn't there be food out for her? Shouldn't there?

He shook his head. Separate, measured feedings from now on.

I sighed.

"You know," I said, "We got him from the shelter. I think there was a time in his life when he didn't have enough food, and now that it's always available he's overcompensating."

The vet shook his head again.

"You know, sometimes people try to tell me that," he said. "But cats just don't have that level of... cognition. It's not like they wake up in the morning and think, 'I better stock up on food now - I might be out on the street tonight.'"

He paused, and prodded Chuckie's belly a bit more, for good measure.

"He just likes to eat."

So now Chuckie gets just 3/4 cup food per day, split into two feedings. He is going to drive me bananas, I just know it. I asked the vet if it's okay to feed him early in the morning and then not again till evening.

"Or does he need a mid-day feeding?" I asked.

"No, he most certainly does not," he said.

Last night I didn't feed him because he already had been eating all day. He was underfoot the entire evening, looking up at me expectantly, like, "Oh, pardon me, you probably didn't notice, but the food bowl is actually empty."

Or perhaps I'm attributing him with too much cognition again.

Then he ate a piece of penne pasta one of the boys dropped at dinner.

All golden

Because our nutcracker collection was on its way out of control following an after-Christmas clearance last year, I'm now limiting it to one new cracker per boy, per Christmas. This was Jackie's choice for 2008.

It's fair to say he's one of the ones that falls under the "creepy" category.

For one thing, we got him at the thrift store. I love shopping there, but the premise of the store is that it's filled with items that other people rejected. It's times like these when it's easy to tell why.

He's also the only nutcracker without a wooden face -- instead he has this molded old man doll's face and it's actually a part of his sternum that unhinges to do the cracking.

Finally, his outfit is completely covered in gold sequins, hat and everything. Oh, and he's missing his feet. But other than that, a perfectly fine specimen.

Here's how Jackie described his newest acquisition:

"He's my nutcracker and I call him old man but he's a king, and he has a mustache, and he can stomp his teeth and he's all golden. And he doesn't have any feet."

They will crack your nuts

Here's a special treat for my loyal readers: This month I will be featuring a series of photos of my son Eli's nutcracker collection. He has amassed a number of the earnest, wooden figurines in the last couple of years. He can't really explain what he likes about them; he just likes them. I do too, the more I'm around them, though some are a little creepy. Not you, fellow. Some of the other guys.

How to make the perfect pierogie

Starring my mother-in-law, Luella:

Only for the lucky and the strong

This is a partial role of vintage wallpaper I scored at St. Vinny's last week that smells like old lady house and was without a doubt used to plaster the walls of an old lady bathroom in, like, 1976. And I love it.

It didn't come across well in the photo but the background is actually a slightly metallic champagne color and the roses are red velvet, the full bloom ones being about six inches in diameter. It was $1. Can you imagine?

I like to make my own cards from images torn from old books so I was thinking I may use it for Christmas cards, or gift tags. I really want to spread the wealth on this one. Any suggested uses would be very much appreciated, friends.

The Uncooperative Patient

Over the weekend Eli had an awful stomach virus where he didn't keep anything down -- not a bite of applesauce, a slurp of Gatorade or a nibble of gingersnap -- for 24 hours. But he was so sweet, just resting and snuggling and saying, quite often as I waited on him and cleaned up after him, "You're a good Mama."

Now Jackie has come down with the same virus. He was up all night throwing up but by 5:30 he was ready to go downstairs and play. I had to hold him down in bed a couple of times. Then he got upset that I made him eat applesauce for breakfast, instead of getting Froot Loops like his brother. Then he threw up again, but it was like it re-energized him, and he collected all his "guys" and started playing on the floor. So I made him sit on the couch in the same "nest" of blankies I made for Eli, where he proceeded to grab his Indian figure and fire imaginary arrows at the cat (pictured).

Finally I put on Indiana Jones and he settled down a bit. The boys play together constantly and look alike and love the same things, so in my mind I sometimes group them together as one singular, brother-tastical unit. It's times like these when I realize just how different they are.

The photos I'll never post

I taught the boys how to use our small digital camera. They loved it.

They took pictures of flowers. They took pictures of fall leaves. They took pictures of the cats. They took pictures of me putting laundry away. They took more pictures of the cats.

Then, when I was in the shower, they pulled down their pants and took what they called "weenie pictures."

Now they're on break from the camera.

And I feel like frickin' Mom of the Year.

I Heart Fall

Fall is far and away my favorite season, and every year I get photos of the boys romping in the leaves and generally epitomizing all that I love about this time of year.

We also keep the annual tradition my mom started when I was a kid of a fall caramel apple walk by the river. Unfortunately there was nary a caramel apple to be found in our town, so we had to go to the Wisconsin Dells fudge district, which is kind of like a red light district only with $7 caramel apples. I kid you not. On the bright side they weighed like 3 lbs each and two were enough for the whole family.

Some eye candy follows. Enjoy.

Apocalypse now

I've been driving by this sign for at least a year and ignoring its fiery plea. Recently I finally succumbed. Go ahead -- go to it. It'll blow your mind.