October 2007 Archives

Chocolate is like Clay

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It just tastes alot better! You can make practically anything using chocolate. Suzanne proves that fact to me time after time. Just look at this masterpiece:

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The haunted house is made of dark chocolate and nearly two feet tall. The Chocolate Moose created this for a special Halloween party order. I wonder if anybody ate it?


Am I getting Old, or What?

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I'm quite sure that 20 years ago my ankle injury would have healed in 6 to 8 weeks. This time it's going to need 6 to 8 months. Or better. I have to say it is discouraging. I have done everything the experts recommend, and worn "sensible shoes" till I'm sick of them. And yes, it is still getting better, but I have to measure the improvements by weeks, not days. For now I am finished with Physical Therapy. Although I am positive I would benefit from more, our insurance ran out. Coverage is per year, not per injury. Plus the co-pay almost tripled a few months ago when Mr.'s contract was renegotiated and passed. It's all about money right now. And being able to forget about my left foot while I go about my daily business. Still, no high heels in my future. Boo-hoo.

Dark Side of the Yellow Brick Road

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How do you explain the essence of "Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon played to The Wizard of Oz" phenomenon to a 12-year-old? She wants to understand it, she has great rhythym, a hearty sense of humor, and sits before the computer, watching this.

The idea of revealing that a person can become screwed-up by intoxicants which allows an altered state of reality has come to bear down on my mothering skills. Am I supposed to explain this to her now? She's too young, I answer. I remember reading (and believeing by experience) that children cannot understand concepts which they are not ready to understand. This often comes up when parents ask themselves: "what do we tell Jonnie when he walks in on us?" In other words, the story of the birds and the bees is just that, about small flying garden creatures, not about what happens in real life, in a childs' eyes, until the time that they can grasp the concept, no matter how clear and/or medical the language used becomes.

Reenter my tween, closely watching Dorothy and listening to David Gilmour yelling while she falls into the pigpen on the computer monitor. "I don't get it Mommy, how does this go together?" She wants to load the Floyd cd onto her ipod. That's a good thing. She goes off to dig out our ancient VHS movie of OZ, another good thing.

I would love to sit back and listen to these two perfect productions played together, and let my mind wander to a place where nothing interrupts, where I don't have to ask how or why they work in unison. But then I'd still need to consider her question. Wait, she saw some shiny keys, no, a butterfly passed by the window... and now she's off to other pursuits, and I am, gratefully, off the hook. The question has been answered. She's not ready to undersatand it. Phew!