CollageMama's Itty Bitty Blog

Four more for Library Life List

2009-07-19T17:34:00.002-05:00

Who's counting? I've added four more libraries to my Life List on trips this summer, and two were design doozies. My sons were excited to show me the new fine art/architecture libraries on their campuses.

The Woolly Mammoth spent much of the spring semester in the Fine Arts and Architecture Library on the top floor of the new School of Architecture and Planning at the University of New Mexico writing papers. He knew I would get a kick from the the quiet study rooms, each with a different Herman Miller chair. I liked how the entrance to Pearl Hall provided a impromptu amphitheatre for sidewalk performers, and how the building offered many display spaces for student designs.

While the UNM architecture library seems stream-lined and air-filled, the cozy new architecture library at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, invites hunkering down with books. The lighting fixtures and shelving of the Wertz Art & Architecture Library in Alumni Hall are reminiscent of my grandma's old Carnegie Library in Pierce. Perhaps that is because the domed Alumni Hall was constructed in 1910 as the university library with the assistance of Andrew Carnegie and alumni funds. Alumni Hall was renovated in 1997, but I believe the Wertz Library addition is more recent. The comfy feel doesn't sacrifice any up-to-date technology or services for library users.

Again at Miami, I enjoyed displayed projects by architecture students, such as this hanging over a connecting walkway. Both architecture libraries featured exposed building materials and fixtures with successful study spaces, although the results were very different.

Miami University's main King Library has an inviting computer area open for use by campus visitors. This was a big plus, as I had an op-ed column to write during my trip. This is a link to some nice photos of King Library:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jenwaller/sets/72157620689820341/

I'm not sure my son and his fiance considered the downtown Cincinnati Public Library a must-see on our walking tour before the Reds game, but I was intrigued to explore. The library was being heavily used late on a Saturday afternoon. Two buildings are connected by a walkway over a street. Each building has a pleasant reading garden, something I'd never seen before. Wilbur the Pig welcomes readers to the Children's Garden, a great place for library programs or individual reading.

Four vacation libraries bring my total to fifty-eight.

Edge of Assisted Living

2009-07-18T19:27:00.001-05:00

What do we really know about the nurses and aides taking care of my father? A coworker asked me that question on a rough day. I'm riding the wild roller-coaster that goes with long-distance squeeze generation responsibilities. That ride comes with extra guilt some days.

What if Matthew Sharkey was Dad's aide? What if Beth Bryson was his nurse? What if Dad was being kept in a full-body cast at the Rexford Clinic as the prisoner of a criminal plastic surgeon like Dr. Kenneth Bryson episode after episode? What if those evil chauffeur twins, Gunther and Bruno Wagner drive the assisted living van?

Yes, I was having a soap opera flashback to 1980. The names crept to mind first. Long repressed images from the final years of "The Edge of Night" began seeping to the surface, giving reality the tinge of antifreeze. The plots didn't make much more sense after three decades and an hour of Googling than they did when aired in the 3:30 p.m. time slot.

I rarely speak about my years of soap opera viewing. I'm not proud of spending so many hours with tv and needlepoint before motherhood took over. At various times I followed "The Guiding Light", "Days of Our Lives", "Another World", and "The Edge of Night" through snowy, gray Omaha afternoons. Perhaps my current worry is a payback for those wasted-hours.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Keep cool!

2009-07-15T18:00:00.006-05:00

http://dallasmorningviewsblog.dallasnews.com/archives/2009/07/power-failure-i.html

This is the link to my guest post on the Dallas Morning News Opinion Blog in which I worry about the North Texas electric power grid.

I belong to a triumvirate of mama worriers. We have divided up the woes of the world so as to share the burden and be better informed for our fretting.

The word "triumvirate" poses some problems. The vir means men. I'm not sure that you could find three men who could do the quality worrying we do, and we are not even wise Latina women. Changing the word to triumvirettes doesn't help, but it would present interesting costuming and choreography challenges.

triumvir
"one of three men in the same office or of the same authority," 1579, from L. triumvir, from Old L. phrase trium virum, genitive plural of tres viri "three men," from tres "three" + viri, plural of vir "man" (see virile). Triumvirate is from 1584.

We considered calling ourselves the Three Musketeers of world worries, but none of us carry guns. That led us to the Three Mouseketeers. We would look great in Annette's ears and sweater, with the pleated skirt and saddle shoes.

Annette Number One worries about the U.S. economy and employment. If she has extra time she worries about the global marketplace.

Annette Number Two is in charge of diseases, plagues, and health care. She's got a full load with swine flu, bird flu, mad cows, food poisoning, insurance, and pharmaceutical recalls. Her bonus category is Florida.

I am Annette Number Three. I am in charge of worrying about the environment. Global warming, energy conservation, toxic landfills, the disappearing honey bees and family farms, migratory birds, and drought.

In case you are having that dream about the final exam for a history class you never attended, the First Triumvirate refers to Caesar, Crassus, and Pompey. The Second Triumvirate was Marc Antony, Octavian (aka Caesar Augustus), and Lepidus.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Potato salad

2009-07-15T08:38:00.002-05:00

All my recipe googling did not lead to actually following a recipe. Made some good potato salad, though:

Boil red potatoes in their jackets

In a skillet brown fresh rosemary, fresh thyme, pine nuts, and 2 cloves of garlic

Cool potatoes and cut into bite-size chunks

Make a vinaigrette with 3/4 c olive oil, 1/4 c fresh lemon juice, 1 t lemon zest. Smash the browned garlic and add it to the vinaigrette.

In a large bowl place potatoes, thyme and rosemary, pine nuts. Stir in vinaigrette. Let sit overnight. Serve cold garnished with crumbled feta cheese.

The jicama salad was not worth repeating. Vinaigrette is very hard to spell correctly.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

So much writing, so little blogging

2009-07-15T08:34:00.003-05:00

My blogging time is being taken up with column deadlines and a new opinion blog for the volunteer Community Voices writers for the Dallas Morning News. This is exciting stuff. Monday I got to attend the editorial board meeting where the opinion pages for the week are planned and discussed. When the Voices blog is up and running I'll post a link.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Recipe googling is addictive

2009-07-09T20:18:00.007-05:00

I wanted to make a salad with red potatoes and fresh rosemary, because I had these ingredients and didn't want to run to the grocery store. I'm making the salad for a staff birthday luncheon tomorrow. Googling by the two items on hand led to an evening reading recipes online. So many choices! Hot potato salad with roasted garlic-infused mayo. Another with roasted pine nuts and red peppers. This is sounding soooo good. If reading recipes keeps me from actually eating, I will lose weight, right?

While checking out a potato salad with fresh rosemary AND thyme (another ingredient I had on hand) at Two Fat Als blog, I got diverted into a consideration of radish-cucumber-beet salad. The power of the Web recibe is almost as strong as the Dark Side. Cucumbers make me burp and I don't like radishes. I haven't eaten beets since building towers with the canned diced beets of 1961. But the colorful photos make me ready to drive across a desert to find the ingredients.

When I came out of the desert into the air-conditioned and tastefully-lit Tom Thumb grocery store, they were all out of fresh beets. But they did have a jicama. Jicama in hand, I headed home to google new recipes.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Rain Forest Convenience Store

2009-07-04T12:54:00.008-05:00

Life is what happens while we are standing there with Robert Frost. The roads diverge and we’re just wondering which is the quickest to a gas station with a clean restroom.

There are different routes between Dallas and Nebraska's capital city, but for just getting it done and getting there, Interstate 35 is best. The gas station with a clean restroom is sometimes a challenge, so I'm pleased to report my discovery of the clean and cute Rainforest Convenience Store/Conoco in Ardmore, OK. Many miles have passed since then, but I think the exit was number 32, or 31B, near the intersection of 12th Ave NW and Rockford Rd N.

Maybe I've just never seen a gas station with a theme, but my brief stop cheered me up. The interior was nice and jungly. It was too early in the day to visit the Bat Cave walk-in beverage cooler, though. I marched back to the Buick wearing an imaginary pith helmet and carrying a mental machete for my expedition north.

Danger Baby has recommended summer reading for me. The Lost City of Z: A Tale of Deadly Obsession in the Amazon, by David Grann, sounds just my style. I've promised myself a long read and then a nap this holiday.

The past couple months have offered many opportunities to second guess decisions and choices as we three siblings helped our elderly father in Nebraska. On the drive home I struggled to recall a poem I once had memorized. So here is Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken":

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Diesel fumes and pancake syrup

2009-07-01T20:48:00.006-05:00

Real guys love real trucks, even if the guys are only 24-months old. Had a hoot doing toddler storytime today at the library. Rhymes, finger plays, and cute illustrated picture books were all good. We made "vroom" sound effects and turned imaginary steering wheels. But when I showed the non-fiction book with large glossy full-color photos of actual dumptrucks hoisted to spill their loads the toddler males rushed the stage! Imagine a mosh pit with raisins and cheerios...

I know the "real" truck books my sons loved are long out-of-print. I'm pretty sentimental about the years our family considered the truckstop cafe a five-star restaurant with a scenic view of tractor-trailers and diesel pumps. Plus, breakfast was served any hour of the day or night.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Enquiring Minds Want a Stubby Update

2009-07-01T19:58:00.003-05:00

Stubby's tail is growing back slowly. The little green anole is pleased that the paparazzi are gone, perhaps to cover Michael Jackson's death. Actually, I can't catch Stubby in action because I dropped my camera on Dad's basement floor and jammed the telescoping lens. Digital photography withdrawal isn't pretty.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Another life ruined, as Amelia Peabody might say*

2009-06-28T16:52:00.003-05:00

Last time I ruined a guy's life, I insisted that the Woolly Mammoth take a fourth year of French in high school. That was five years ago. Apparently, I haven't lost my touch.

Now I'm ruining my dad's life by moving him into assisted living. It's not entirely my fault. I have to share his resentment with my sister. The difference is that he feels more betrayed by me, as I've long been his solid rock of support.

The Woolly Mammoth hasn't actually expressed gratitude for my French class insistence. He does admit that he gained many free credit hours toward his degree and an early "upperclassman" status his first year of college due to my torture.

I can hope that someday my dad may acknowledge certain benefits derived by my interference in his life. We both know he has fewer years left to come around to my way of thinking on this matter.

When I went back to work after the divorce I discouraged my early-teen sons from phoning my place of employment unless there was "blood on the rug". I needed them to handle their own petty disputes and develop their self-sufficiency so I could bring in some bacon.

"Blood on the rug" is a useful guideline. Unfortunately the past year has brought many situations where Dad had to use his Lifeline pager to get help after falls and injuries. His neighbors and relatives worried every time their phones rang that Dad had fallen again. We were all dreading the call from a stranger informing us that Dad had been unable to page Lifeline, that he was found unconscious in a pool of blood on the linoleum or rug.

Dad probably won't do a junior year abroad in Italy. He may never thank me for removing him from his home of fifty-plus years. I hope that he meets some other alert seniors, and has an improved quality of life in his new assisted-living apartment. I hope to anticipate his chatty calls instead of dreading "blood on the rug" notifications. Maybe we will get past the resentments and petty disputes. Maybe I can keep bringing home a little bacon while still being Dad's emotional support. Sure would hate to think this is my last chance to ruin a guy's life.

*http://www.mpmbooks.com/peabody/index.html

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Petula Clark cleans out her folks' house

2009-06-28T01:06:00.007-05:00

"Don't Dive In Your Own Dang Dumpster" is the first hit single for Petula's comeback. The flip side of the 45 rpm is "When You're Alone and Life Is Making You Lonely You Can Always Move Into Assisted Living."

Petula doesn't wear make-up by Yardley for this music video. She is too sweaty dragging that ancient couch out of the basement to heave into the Dumpsters R Us construction container plunked on the driveway. Sometimes it is necessary to rearrange the contents of the twenty-yard dumpster in order to accommodate more and more. This can be done by pushing the contents while standing on the dumpster side rails, but should NOT be done by diving. Just FYI, Petula might want to put the biggest junk in first.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Knievel Anole or Anole Oakley?

2009-06-20T21:03:00.002-05:00

Recently Robbie Knievel, the son of Evel, jumped his motorcycle over two Budweiser trucks near the state capital building in Austin, Texas. This stunt did not impress me. I was much more awed by Stubby's leap from the forehead of the clay mask across 2.5 feet into the canna bloom. The little lizard with the short tail seems to have mastered the art of reckless abandon when it comes to patio jumps.

Stubby is still shy when I head outside with my camera. He raced from the flowers into the hiding spots among large canna leaves.

Had to dig out my Edith Hamilton's Mythology to get my story straight. Stubby didn't spring from the terra cotta mask forehead full-grown and in full armor like Pallas Athena from the head of Zeus. It was still an impressive leap.

Wondering tonight why I respect Annie Oakley's stunts but not Robbie Knievel's. Had a great visit to the Annie Oakley Center at the Garst Museum in Greenville, Ohio on a rainy day this month. Annie was a class act, and a much better role model for young Stubby than Mr. Knievel. The image below is of mother-of-pearl opera glasses given to Ms. Oakley by Princess Alexandra, wife of England's Prince Edward. Alexandra's photo is in the oval frame.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Foxy Loxy in Local Lock-up

2009-06-19T18:43:00.013-05:00

During the years my eldest son has worked in university residence halls, he has managed various wildlife/student situations. Deer seem to consider campus quadrangles desirable dining spots. "Bambi Goes to College" sounds like a low budget porn movie, but it is really more like a "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom" show with Marlin Perkins than you might imagine.

Now my small Montessori school in the middle of the Dallas metropolex is having its own close encounter with wildlife. On the first morning of summer school we watched a coyote-like animal trot casually past the preschool windows. It's head seemed small for a coyote. Its fur was gray/beige. It had a prominent black ridge along the length of its tail. This animal was also completely unafraid to be walking between a dentist's office and a private school at mid-morning.

For several weeks there have been sightings of this canid creature near the school, usually emerging from the wooded area along a creek and behind a very urban office park dumpster. In early morning headlights it appeared to be a "white fox". The first person to arrive at school would spot an animal chomping on its breakfast prey of bird or rodent. The second person usually cleaned up the souvenir scat it left on the playground. From a distance it looked like a wild dog or coyote. Eventually we realized there were two distinct animals hanging around the neighborhood.

Scat mess on the playground is an inconvenience. Possibly unafraid rabid mammals strolling as close as window-shoppers at the mall in broad daylight is a significant concern. These animals should be nocturnal and hide from humans. Calling Animal Control seemed like the prudent thing to do.

Animal Control suggested we remove the birdfeeder outside the school. Nighttime rodents eating spilled seeds beneath the feeder probably kept the larger predators fed. It took about two days before one of our school visitors ended up in the trap set near the creek. The Animal Control employee was surprised how docile the animal was, and informed us that gray foxes can be more agressive. We also learned the gray fox can climb trees, and doesn't get rabies. After a day or so in the slammer, our canid visitor will be released in a less-populated area. Animal Control will reset the trap to lure its probable mate. Tonight I'm worrying that there are little foxy-loxies down by the creek or up in the hollow of a tree.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Bye Baby Bunting

2009-06-17T20:04:00.023-05:00

Ohio is the land of porch patriotic bunting, although that is not its slogan on car license plates. Red, white, and blue decorations must be recommended, if not actually required, in every sort of Ohio community.

This particular bunted abode is the former home of William Holmes McGuffey. The writer of the McGuffey Readers series lived in this house from 1826 to 1836:

It was during his years at Miami when McGuffey was approached to write a series of readers for school children. In addition to the work done on these by William Holmes McGuffey, he was assisted by his brother, Alexander Hamilton McGuffey, who also compiled a speller and had sole responsibility for the Fifth Reader. Alexander taught school while working on his law degree and opened a law office in Cincinnati in 1839. The McGuffey Readers sold over 125,000,000 copies.

Why do folks in the Buckeye State bunt so profusely? This was something to consider during the Reds vs. Cubs game which had a few instances of bunting.

bunt
1825, "to strike with the head or horns," perhaps an alteration of butt (as a goat), or from M.E. bounten "to return." Baseball term is from 1889. [from the Online Etymology Dictionary]

My old American Heritage dictionary shows bunt as a variant of butt with horns or head. In baseball, it is to bat a pitched ball with a half swing, and with the upper hand supporting the middle of the bat, so that the ball rolls slowly in front of the infielders. Bunt also has a nautical usage, being the middle section of a square sail or the sagging middle part of a fishnet. And then there's the agricultural bunt disease of wheat, rye, and other cereal grasses caused by fungi of the genus Tilletia and resulting in sooty black spores in place of normal seeds. Ick.

What does "bunting" mean?

bunting (1)
"flag material," 1742, perhaps from M.E. bonting gerundive of bonten "to sift," because cloth was used for sifting grain, via O.Fr. from V.L. *bonitare "to make good." [from the Online Etymology Dictionary]

A light cotton or woolen cloth used for making flags. Flags collectively. Long, colored strips of cloth used for festive decoration. [Origin unknown]

bunting (2)
"type of lark-like bird," c.1300, bountyng, maybe from buntin "plump" (cf. baby bunting, also Scots buntin "short and thick;" Welsh bontin "rump," and bontinog "big-assed"), or a double dim. of Fr. bon. [from the Online Etymology Dictionary]

Any of various birds of the family Fringillidae, having short, cone-shaped bills.

A snug-fitting, hooded sleeping bag for infants. [From "Bye, Baby Bunting," a nursery rhyme, origin and meaning unknown.]

Then there's the matter of the buntline. It's a rope that keeps a square sail from bellying when it is being hauled up for furling. Edward Zane Carroll Judson chose the pseudonym Ned Buntline for his sensational newswriting and dime novels about Buffalo Bill Cody.

Where does Ohio fit in this, with its bounty of pleated fan bunting and flag-festooned porches?

I'm only guessing that it dates way back to the "front-porch" presidential campaigns of Ohioans James A. Garfield in 1880 and William McKinley in 1896.

This little side note for folks like me from the hometown of William Jennings Bryan:

"McKinley's opposing candidate, William Jennings Bryan, gave over 600 speeches and traveled many miles all over the United States to campaign, but McKinley outdid this by spending about twice as much money campaigning. While McKinley was at his Canton, Ohio, home conducting his "front-porch campaign", Mark Hanna was out raising millions to help with the campaign." [from Wikipedia]

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Headless Sherman and extra-inning Reds

2009-06-17T19:25:00.000-05:00

My Ohio roadtrip highlights reel includes a child jumping out of a car wearing her softball uniform. She was hurrying into Pickerington, Ohio's own Planet Coffee with her dad. I was stunned by her fabulous candy cane/barber pole knee socks. I was so envious!

Neither the Cincinnati Reds nor the Chicago Cubs had such awesome socks. I loved watching boats and barges on the river beyond the stadium as our game went into extra innings.

Planet Coffee has another claim to fame. A statue of General William Tecumseh Sherman stands near the coffee shop patio in this strip mall. Sherman is missing his head. The statue is nonequestrian. Why is it there?

I've got to give Ohio credit. It sure provokes a lot of Googling for trivia answers. Turns out the real General Sherman was born not far from Pickerington in Lancaster, Ohio. Maybe coffee shops in Lincoln, Nebraska should have headless statues of General John J. Pershing or perennial presidential candidate, William Jennings Bryan.

Back home in North Texas we've had odd rainbow sherbet skies in the evenings. Three dips--lemon, orange, and lime, but no waffle cones. It takes many days to reset myself after a roadtrip. The questions raised on a good trip keep me searching for many stay-at-home months.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Empress tree at Jackson's Hermitage

2009-06-13T19:30:00.015-05:00

Intrigued by the gigantic heart-shaped leaves and odd pods on the gigantic tree, I knew I'd be checking the Tree Notes blog when I got home from my road trip. The label on this tree outside Andrew Jackson's Hermitage home read "Empress Tree". This single specimen did not worry me that it was an invasive species, but I wondered if it was foreign or primeval.

The kudzu in Natchez Trace State Park, Tennessee, was obviously a more agressive and invasive plant. In some versions of the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale the kingdom is overgrown with briar wood while the princess slumbers. Kudzu could cover the kingdom while the princess took a power nap!

Harvest gold Rival?

2009-06-13T18:58:00.003-05:00

Pretty envious of the twenty-something woman sporting this t-shirt. Some of us don't play air guitar, but we fantasize virtuoso crockpot suppers.

The Cotton Factory, http://store.cottonfactory.com, sells the shirt for $18.99 plus $3.00 shipping and handling. I'm wondering why the shirt isn't available in harvest gold or avocado green.

Medic garden at Shaker Village

2009-06-11T19:55:00.013-05:00

Yarrow, the tag tells me, repels insects and is used for yellow dye. I'm visiting the cool cellar exhibits in the Centre Family Dwelling at Shaker Village, Pleasant Hill, Kentucky, and perusing the rack of dried plants. Medicinal plants are growing in orderly rows just outside the building. There's comfrey, tansy, boneset, white and yellow yarrow, lavendar, and many more. The bees are going crazy at the purple comfrey flowers. A skipper butterfly enjoys the yarrow.

Shaker Village at Pleasant Hill was a high point of my recent road trip. Living history demonstrations of spinning, weaving, and laundering were intriguing. The Shaker beliefs speaker was outstanding. I came away wanting to know more about this sect's beliefs. Mostly, I soaked up the Shaker aesthetic of spirituality, simplicity, craftsmanship as meditation, and a peaceful feeling of breathing space. Efficiency and energy are everywhere evident, but nothing is cluttered or crowded. There is space for the spirit, and spirit in the place.

The West Family Wash House

Yellow was an important color to the Shakers. Each building was painted according to its function. Farm barns and corn cribs were charcoal black or red. Work buildings were painted golden yellow. Dwellings were cream-colored. The spiritual meeting house was white.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Stubby foretold

2009-06-11T19:16:00.009-05:00

Last time I was in Lincoln I visited the Mary Riepma Ross Media Arts Center at UNL. Didn't go to see a film. Just wanted to see the Art-O-Mat vending machine in the lobby. I didn't know pulling the knob for my five dollar original art purchase would yield a portent of my patio friend, Stubby, the short-tailed anole.

Art-O-Mats are repurposed cigarette vending machines sponsored by Artists In Cellophane. Visit the website to find one near you.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Smart Cars and Cautious Lizards

2009-05-31T15:40:00.004-05:00

You can't really blame Stubby for being a bit tense. The little anole lizard who lost his tail in a close encounter three weeks ago is a wiser reptile now. When I go out to the patio to take his photo, he wears his fig leaf. I did get a photo that showed Stubby had also been injured above his left hip when he lost his tail.

Stubby is getting around well now, leaping from shrub to shrub, and climbing to the top of the fence. Each day he looks less like a Smart Car, as his tail is growing back.

I can almost hear Robert Preston singing "The Sadder-But-Wiser-Girl For Me" from The Music Man for little Stubby:

I snarl, I hiss: How can ignorance be compared to bliss?

I spark, I fizz for the lady who knows what time it is.

I cheer, I rave for the virtue I'm too late to save
The sadder-but-wiser girl for me.

Antlers of Death

2009-05-29T20:11:00.000-05:00

During a recent flight I read Betty Webb's zookeeper murder mystery, Anteater of Death. Good title, plus I learned that anteaters have blue tongues and are partial to bananas. Also, I remembered why I quit reading mysteries. Nice as it was to have a zookeeper heroine instead of a private detective, bounty hunter, or overweight police officer from a wealthy/dysfunctional family, the book still could have been outlined by any four third-grade girls using only an origami "fortune-teller".

If you have forgotten how to fold a fortune-teller, Enchanted Learning has clear instructions. The same week it came to my attention that most of the kindergarten students don't know about antlers. They seem to think an "antler" is a big pile of ants, and that reindeer have "cantaloupes" on their heads. Plus, they think blue tongues are caused by Otter Pops and cupcake frosting. At least that part is true.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Boca Negra and Otter Pops

2009-05-18T20:15:00.027-05:00

The Woolly Mammoth and I spent a Sunday morning at the Petroglyph National Monument. This was my third or fourth visit to the park over fifteen years, and I was dismayed to find civilization encroaching like a bad case of cockroaches. Everywhere we looked from the top of the mesa, new homes were just a shoe's throw away.

To add a particularly unsettling soundtrack to our hike, a popsicle truck was driving up and down the residential streets. The song clearly drifting up to us was the tune that begins Firesign Theatre's "I Think We're All Bozos On This Bus".

Yes, this is the Sunday morning popsicle truck in question. Who buys popsicles before noon? My son, the Woolly Mammoth, would have bought a popsicle if he had the money. Instead, he eats several Otter Pops per day.

Popular baby names

2009-05-14T19:19:00.005-05:00

The Social Security Administration has released the list of popular baby names for 2008. As usual, I feel good about the solid names I chose for my sons. I'm thankful I didn't have to give any daughters a name foundation for self-esteem or life success.

The preschoolers are learning about animals of the southwest United States. We compared the jackrabbit hare and the cottontail rabbit. Which is more important, stamina or speed? Is it more beneficial for a child to have a stamina name or a speed name?

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

i Before e Relations

2009-05-12T23:07:00.007-05:00

I'm smiling tonight as I pack up a birthday gift of fabric crayons and projects for my niece. She turns twelve on Friday. I remember the thrill of receiving the call while working at the library circulation desk when Natalie was born. On my way home from the library I had a splendid time shopping the girly baby department at Old Navy for funny flowered sunbonnets with matching socks.

It's good to have a relation I can relate to. To a mother of boys, a niece is a gift. She is an opportunity to stroll the pink aisle at the store. She is a dancer, artist, and seamstress--plus she knows how to write a thank you note.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Pirate Sheep

2009-05-11T18:52:00.003-05:00

Our class is fortunate to have a mother who is a textile artist. Last week she brought her spinning wheel and did a very hands-on, kid-friendly demonstration of spinning wool into yarn. The children were enthralled, and I'm not saying that in a gushy way. When something holds the attention of two dozen preschoolers for half an hour, and intrigues them enough to make insightful observations and to ask thoughtful questions, I know there's magic involved.

One of the most transfixed was a five year old girl who is very ESL. When she first joined the class it seemed her only two words of English were "princess" and "mermaid". She was learning the language from Disney videos. As our spinning guest began speaking about sheep and wool, the little girl got giddy. "Sheep! Pirate sheep! Pirate sheep!"

Disney's Sleeping Beauty has the spinning wheel. The Little Mermaid has Prince Eric's ship. Peter Pan has pirates. But this little BoPeep was missing her sheep. Sheep -> Wool -> Yarn -> Sweater.

It's strange to realize how many children have no concept of the world outside their city. They haven't driven through rural areas to see farms, ranches, orchards. Where do foods come from? Where do fibers come from to make our clothes? Where does lumber come from to build houses?

When my sons were little they loved a series of library books by Ali Mitgutsch that explained where things come from and how they are made. The series was called "From Start to Finish".

One good thing that will come out of our current economic downturn is a return to backyard vegetable gardening. It is good to understand that growing food is time-consuming hard work AND even more of a fantasia than Walt let on.

Arrgh! I'm Cap'n Ovine, and I'm steering our course over the high seas.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder