Happy New Year! May you have Peace & Joy in 2012
Here are a few photos from the past couple of months
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| Little imp |
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| So I've been really into Scandanavia lately! Isn't she precious? |
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| No, smile. Smile please. Faolan! Smile? *uh* Happy Thanksgiving. |
Thanksgiving dinner at our house this year! Got a picture of the turkey I was so proud of, but forgot to get good photos of my family. Doh! Mom & Dick came up from Georgia this year for the first time, and we had Evie & Brian over as well. I was so excited to host! It was good to see my family. Faolan had her own little table right by my chair. She decorated it herself! She also made little pinecone turkeys as favors for everyone. She is really into "decorations".
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| Faolan decorated a sugar skull for a Dia de Los Muertos celebration at the Arts Council |
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| Faolan was Yoda for Halloween. Here she is on "treats & trails" at the nature center. |
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| Baby bunnies AND a hayride? Heaven. |
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| She rode every pony that day! |
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| Sweet little goats at the pony farm |
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| In the car on the way home from an all day excursion seeing outdoor sculptures |
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| No more baby. She's a little girl now. *sniff* She's beautiful. |
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| corny, but fun |
This is my favorite story. One day in late summer Faolan and I walked to a nearby playground. She loves the sandbox, so it was the first thing on her mind. After about two minutes she came running to me very excitedly saying "Mamma! Mamma! It's my LUCKY day!" I was already giggling inside having never heard her say this before. "Oh, why honey?" I said. "Look!" she said, "I found a bracelet, a digger and a teeny tiny cup!" She showed me her treasures one by one.....a milk ring, a broken spork, and the cap to a water bottle. The world is anew through a child's eyes. I would have looked at those things and scowled with anger at trash in the sandbox. What a precious gift to be reminded to look at things with a childish innocence every once in a while.
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I got a flat tire the other day when I went to run errands with Faolan. I pulled into a parking lot and called Tim on his cell phone. I knew he was home. He didn't pick up. I grumbled a few choice words to myself then called the home phone. No answer. It was really cold and I began to get worried. The last time I had a flat tire it took two strong men to get my lug nuts off. I didn't know if I could do it on my own. I called Tim again on his cell and he answered. He was there soon enough and fixed the tire quickly. As he is on his back on the cold parking lot ground a curious Faolan watched. When he was almost done she said "Daddy. Mamma called you but you didn't pick up the damn phone." Tim looked over at me as I blushed with a sheepish grin.
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"Mamma, does bubble gum taste like bubbles?"
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Faolan: "Mamma, so where do babies come from?"
Mamma: "Well, when you grow up..."
Faolan: "no, Mamma, I mean after you find a good man"
Mamma: *cough* "um....er..."
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Faolan: "Daddy, what is a god?"
Daddy: "Well, sweetie, a god is a very powerful being. Do you know what a 'being' is? Every living thing is a 'being.' A cat is a living being; we're living being. Gods are beings, and normally people imagine them to be really powerful. Sometimes they're good; sometimes they're bad. And they're normally invisible so you can't see them unless they want you to... although different stories imagine gods in different ways. Sometimes people imagine lots of different gods, and sometimes they imagine only one, or even none. Some people believe there is a real god, only one, and some people believe there are lots of real gods. That's what 'religion' is about--
Faolan: Daddy, I'm Princess Leah.
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...meanwhile, in the car the other day, on the way to Lansing to meet up with Faolan's cousins (at an indoor play area with the inflatable, bouncy structures that had Faolan quite excited all morning)...
Faolan: I love you, Dad.
Daddy: I love you, too, darlin'--
Faolan: I love you so much, we don't have to go to Lansing.
Daddy: Really? Should we turn around?
Faolan: Silly daddy. I don't love you *that* much.
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Tim was trying to explain what a "weekend" was. He explained that while most people work during the week, there are some people who work on the weekend.
Faolan: When I grow up, I don't want to work.
Daddy: Well, darlin', the trick is to find something that you love so it doesn't feel like work. Like for me, it's writing. For mama its--
Faolan: Yeah. For me it's not working.
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If you don't know, Tim gets up quite early on the weekends to get some writing done while Mamma and Faolan are still sleeping. Typically, after Mamma and Faolan get up, Faolan will rush into the office to say good morning. One morning, she was sitting on Daddy's lap and wants to type, too. So Daddy saves all his work and pulls up a blank document for her. Typing morphs into odd key-combinations, and soon Daddy's closing windows that say something like, "If you want to enable [that feature], you'll have to configure..." Daddy hardly reads them as he closes them. OK, end of typing. Let's just sit here and talk for a minute.
Did you sleep well? Did you have good dreams? What--
The computer is typing. Slowly. On its own. Word by word. Strange things, like, "whole year the jury notes pass rights..."
Daddy's calm. Daddy's tech. He rules out someone "taking over the computer" almost immediately. Could the software be somehow merging another document into this one? No, he decides.
And still, it types. "...that or of swim lunch..." This is starting to freak Daddy out a bit. If it types, "Hello, Tim" or "I am in the house" Daddy thinks we might discover just how aerodynamic a computer can be flying out of a second-story window.
Suddenly, Daddy realizes that the headphones are sitting beside him and Faolan, on the desk. The headphones with a microphone. Then he recalls what one of the messages said. "If you want to enable voice recognition, you must first calibrate your microphone."
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