Snoodle

Birthweek

Happy Birthday to my beloved husband! 

Eleanor's birthday was Thursday, and it has really felt like birthweek.  The first sailing race of the year was also on Thursday, and to avoid losing daddy to the bay, we tagged along with him.  After an evening of sitting on cleats, rope burn, and white knuckles, I've decided I'm going to stick to pleasure cruises.  Eleanor, however, was hip to every tack and jibe.  She scrambled to the high side like a pro.  After the race, she got to steer and hang out on the foredeck with dad. 

There was no cake.  Heck, dinner was Pringles.  But by the silly grin on her face, I don't think she noticed.

We had a family celebration on Monday for the first BBQ of the year and birthday cake.  I forgot the sailboat toy so I made an impromptu decoration for my Mac Geek... who also likes dinosaurs.  The rest of the credit, of course, goes to my mother. 

Eleanor's first request for a gift has become quite clear lately.  Naturally, it would have to be a toy that is no longer available in stores!  Through the generosity of a dear coworker, however, Nora's dream came true.  "Pinch me!" she kept saying.  I wonder where she gets her sense of drama?!  More about Felicity in a later post.  There's surprisingly much to say! 

Right before we left grandma and grandpa's house, as if it knew it were her celebration, a rabbit came out of the woods.  Apparently, it will sit watching while my father mows the lawn, but we're letting Nora feel like she is the rabbit-whisperer.  After all, birthdays are full of wonder.

Bloom Where You Are Planted

    I want a garden.  Not just that, I want to be a gardener.  I want to step barefoot into the backyard to harvest a salad.  I want to heal using herbs that wind into the depths of our property.  I want to fill dye-pots with hues plucked from a medieval-style plot.  I want to send Eleanor out to pick favorite blooms to decorate our dinner table.  I want a wide brimmed hat and dirt under my fingernails. Then, I remember that this is a rented home and close the door.

    This has been a sabotaging obstacle for me: this pesky renting, this tiny apartment.  I keep myself from doing projects because I'm waiting for a bigger bedroom, an attic sewing room, a pantry, and that garden I truly can call my own.  For years, I've been shying away from tending a garden because of the ever-present hope that we might move. 

    A little while ago I went to a garage sale with my sister-in-law in a very poor rural area.  The house wasn't much to look at, but the garden was sensational.  It was brilliantly covered with beautiful flowers and herbs.  She had small gardens with decorations and vignettes scattered throughout.  She spoke with great fondness about her plants.  It was clear that she was devoted to them and in turn, they gave her great joy.  My sister said, "she's really bloomed where she's planted."  I agreed but was internally thinking it a bit of a cliche- one of those phrases you see on stepping stones or fence plaques.  But after we got into the car, I though more about it.  She really did bloom, very literally, where she was.  She created an oasis of beauty spread out before her double-wide. Maybe I could, too.

    Indeed, it's expensive and a lot of work to start a proper garden when we might just leave it.  But little things have been creeping into the yard- the determined mint, the strawberries that might actually produce if the woodchucks don't get to them first, and a scattering of cheery violets and other little flowers and greenery fill the gaps between the blades of grass.  If these plants aren't speaking to me, my seven year-old certainly is!  I need to succumb to the fact that I surely have years -plural!- to continue living here and make it bloom. 

    It might be nice for the next tenants to have a little beauty left behind.

    This gardening idea, along with our farm fantasy, is not new.  Nora and I have been dreaming about our future garden filled with lilacs, apple trees, daffodils, herbs, and favorite veggies. We already have strawberries as berries of all kinds are high on the list.   Lately, she's been sure to comment on the bleeding hearts that we see as we walk through the neighborhood.  Knowing the generosity of our neighbors, I sent a plea to our neighborhood forum and asked if anyone had this particular plant to share.  I got many responses and immediately pounced!  We loaded up the wagon and a shovel and made our way to a hidden garden down the street.  We dug up the plant and replanted it under the dappled light of our (neighbor's) tree.  Its close to Sweet Pea's grave where, indeed, Eleanor keeps a piece of her heart.  The delight I have gotten in its presence makes me think that I might just be getting my hands dirty more often... right here where I'm planted.

Another First Communion

Eleanor celebrated First Communion with her class today.  What a joy to celebrate this sacrament twice! I will share some more about the memories from this special day later, but now I must go say a rosary with my little girl.

First Holy Communion

At the beginning of this school year, when asked about what she was most looking forward to, her answer was receiving communion.  So excited, in fact, that I agreed to teach the second grade religious education class at our church.  So excited that even though she is being taught the same material at her school, she came to class with me every Sunday so that she could make her First Communion in the same parish that I made mine.  She was glowing with that excitement on Sunday... and maybe just a little nervous.

She had the honor of reading the first reading from the Acts of the Apostles.

We are all so grateful that our large family and many friends were able to celebrate this day with us including grandparents, Godparents and even Monsignor who gave her the blessed sacrament.

The cousin away at college even remembered to call.

Grandma, of course, made a lovely cake topped with one of the two cake toppers that was on my sisters' cake.   Being twins, however, no one was quite sure which twin it belonged to!   I was pretty sure I had one of these toppers as well.

It gives me such joy that Eleanor truly understands what it is to receive the Holy Eucharist.  She radiated the light of that special moment throughout the entire day.

Overheard while painting

It's rolling

I'm just going to let the colors roll and cross all over the paper.

It looks like a blue cactus.

Oh, it's rolling along the bottom.

I made purple, mama!

This is like an amusement park... every color is a wild ride!

It looks like a rainbow.

I accidentally got purple into my yellow streak.  It looks weird, but sometimes weird things are pretty good.

It's turning out fancy.

This painting is like me: silly. 

Well, it's polka-dot on a rainbow-y background.  It's colorful.

I'm wiping an outline of a house so that I can paint a red house.

It looks like the prairie.  It looks like where Laura Ingalls Wilder lived.

 

The Perfect Little Dress

    My once tiny baby will be making her First Communion this May.  For years, I thought that I would sew the dress for her special day.  Alas, I should have spent those years sewing!  Now, I have a deadline.  I don't like deadlines.  I don't do well with deadlines.  I get panicky, and as I'm told, hard to live with when I have a deadline.  I wanted to sew something lovely, with the finest fabric.  Something like this:

    Wonderful mother, Jennie Chancey, made this dress for her daughter, Olivia.  That's Olivia above.  It was made using Sense and Sensibility's 1780's Portrait Dress.  Oh, the dresses on that site are dreamy!  And, yes, there are patterns for adults as well.  I have a weakness for anything historical, and this is Nora's favorite period.  It would have been perfect...  This site is well placed in my bookmarks to be visited when I'm free of deadlines.

    When I realized it might not be a good plan to sew this special dress, I looked at many dresses on-line.  Most were too expensive or more likely too "princess-y" with their puffy skirts, frills, beading, and even a train!  Some of them aren't even modest.  I'm not sure if people understand this event.  I mean, really!

Aaaaaaaa!

    I was getting nowhere, and I needed a source of beautiful, affordable, timeless dresses for children.  Happily, it occurred to me that right in my own city is the exceptional designer, April Cornell.  I've been wearing her dresses since college.  I've worn them to weddings, garden parties (with matching hat, of course), choir concerts, holidays, and a swanky cocktail party.  I tend to associate important events with the corresponding April Cornell dress.  My selections have included the classic floral dress perfect for Spring events to a Boardwalk Empire worthy beaded gown.  I felt so beautiful in that dress.  It wasn't just the cocktails.

So, off we went, mother and daughter, to April Cornell.  We had a lovely experience of trying on dresses.  Well, she did - though, I was tempted!  It felt as if they were expecting her.  The saleswoman that we first encountered said she was Jewish and therefore wasn't quite sure what was appropriate for this event.   Once I filled her in, she was abundantly helpful.  In fact, a few others joined in helping us choose - along with much "Oooing and Ahhing."  One even put sweet-smelling lotion on Nora as well as a little glitter so that she would feel all the more special. 

After trying on a few dresses:  one was deemed too simple, the other too scratchy, (she'll never wear a slip!) Nora found the very perfect dress.

Antoinette Dress by April Cornell

    The embroidered tulle overlay is absolutely precious and the neckline provides the perfect space for a special necklace.  I never would have thought that we would have chosen a blue dress, but truly, it is perfect.  As blue is a special color for Mary, and May is her month, I thought it was just the right choice. 

    This beautiful young lady is of course a model.  I will wait until May to post photos of Nora in this dress.  At that time, I would like to focus on the special sacrament and not her attire.  As Nora said in the dressing room as I was fussing perhaps too much with a dress, "Mommy, it's not about the dress.  It's about receiving the body and blood of Jesus."  Well stated, my dear.  You are certainly ready.

What It's All About

    
Thanks for the photo, Abby!

    I spent the (dreary) day in Montpelier for Early Childhood Day at the Legislature.  It's always a good opportunity to represent early educators as the professionals they are.  Since 70% of the brain is wired by age three, teachers lay the foundation for all future growth and learning.  It's an important job.  We carry the burden of being thought of as the servers of milk and cookies or "babysitters."  However, we are responsible for creating a curriculum for young children, observing, documenting, along with maintaining health and safety.

    Considering that 70% of children under five years old spend at least some of their day outside the care of their parents, it seems that monitoring the supervision of these children as well as ensuring they are in a safe environment would be of extreme value to the present and future of our state.  However, the startling reality is that, for the 1,600 early childcare programs in Vermont, there are seven licensors.  Yes, seven.  That's a caseload of 229 programs for each licensor.  The recommended caseload is 50. 

    As was stated in a work session that I attended, the need for more licensors is not a "sexy" topic.  In fact, it's kind of dull.  However, I hope that our legislators have truly heard how very important this regulation is to our profession.  It would be great if we could have enough oversight that we eventually build a relationship with licensors enabling us to work together to ensure quality.  While it's clear that we need at least 20 more licensors, it amuses me that we are merely recommending the addition of two.  I suppose we must be satisfied with "baby steps." 

    While I will keep in contact with my legislators, tomorrow is another work-day.  Back with the toddlers, I will set aside politics and go back to the stacking blocks and digging for worms.  After all there's learning to be done.  That's what it's all about.

    Wait a minute.  Maybe it's not!  Thanks to my niece for sending this along.  A blending of two of my personalities:  A little dramatic.  A little childish.

The Hokey Pokey Shakespearean Style

O proud left foot, that ventures quick within
Then soon upon a backward journey lithe.
Anon, once more the gesture, then begin:
Command sinistral pedestal to writhe.
Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke,
A mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl.
To spin! A wilde release from Heavens yoke.
Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl.
The Hoke, the poke -- banish now thy doubt
Verily, I say, 'tis what it's all about.
        -- by "William Shakespeare"

 

This Day Last Year it Wasn't

Thirty days hath September,

April, June, and November.

All the rest have thirty-one

All except the second one

Which alone has tweny-nine

When comes Leap Year in its time.

Every four years, I try to remember why we do this Leap Year thing.  It's the ancient Egyptians who figured out that the the calendar-year and the wonky Earth-year don't match up.  It takes 365.2422 days for the Earth to orbit the Sun.  That's 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes, and 46 seconds to be exact.  So, Julius Caesar and his astronomer Sosigenes came up with a 365 day calendar with months alternating between 30 and 31 days.  An extra day was sometimes added to the last month of the year which was February. 

What's more interesting is why February is such a short month now.   Julius Caesar's calendar had a 30 day February.  When Caesar Agustus became emperor, his month (August) only had 30 days while his predecessor Julius' month ( July) had 31.  The Senate decided that the two months should be equal and took a day for August so it would equal July.  To even things out, February got the short end.

Here's how I like to think of things:

Thirty days hath September.

All the rest I can't remember.

The calendar hangs on the wall;

Why bother me with this at all?

"Leap year is never a good sheep year."  - Old Scottish saying (Baah)

 

Remembering Rachel

Rachel Bissex and Emma Goldberg

    Rachel Bissex had been a staple of the Burlington folk scene since before I was aware there was a Burlington folk scene.  My big sister used to take me to Rachel's shows at Trinity College where she was booking gigs for her dorm.  Knowing with certainty that anything she liked was sure to be cool, I became a fan.  My love for folk music was born which was a good thing because my friends were listening to a lot of New Kids on the Block and Tiffany at the time.  I discovered how much I love live music, and folk music was really accessible, and Rachel’s was the best.
    Rachel had an active philosophy of being completely attentive to the person she was with.  She took time to talk after her shows, and I grew to love her personality as much as her music.  I became babysitter to her daughter, Emma, often when Rachel was touring.  Emma tirelessly listened to the Aladdin soundtrack and eventually brought home a violin and would play Hot Cross Buns which I politely listened to...over and over and over.  I remember Rachel's joy that her daughter was developing her own passion for music.
    Eventually, Rachel took to driving me along to some of her instate gigs.  I’d play the chicken-shake and sing along to her songs while she warmed up on the way there, and she’d ask me about her stage presence on the way back.  What the heck did I know about stage presence?!  But she was attentive; treating me as an equal at a time when I was to so many others “just a kid”.  This attitude led me to believe that I could have an opinion not just on folk music, but so much more.  I became empowered in her passenger seat.
    It was in that seat that she told me about an exciting camp that had just started for families called Camp Common Ground.  She suggested that I might be a good fit for the children’s morning program.  She sold the idea by dreamily describing late-night campfire singalongs along with details about the camp’s workshops from sailing, to singing, to massage.  I worked at that camp for a few summers during a time when I needed to explore a different world.  It was a great opportunity to try out pottery, sunrise yoga, reiki, pastel drawing at night, and kayaking.  She was right, though.  Singing along at the late-night campfires was my favorite part.
    David and I often went to Rachel’s shows at local coffee shops or in the park.  After the CD release concert of Don’t Look Down, we went to David’s apartment where he proposed.  I don’t know what the date was.  I only remember it from this event.  Was it really 1995?  I guess we were engaged for a long time!
    I was pregnant with Nora when I found out that Rachel had breast cancer.  Wrapped up in new-motherhood, I didn’t get much of a chance to see her.  The last time I did was at the Champlain Valley Folk Festival where she passionatly sang new songs from her latest album In White Light.  She sang that album's title song; one for her son who she knew she may soon leave and her signature song, Dancing With My Mother, which tells of the generational love that mother's have for their daughters.  Each song, new and old, continued to convey the love that Rachel showed for family, friends, and music.

 

     Seven years have passed since we lost Rachel.  Her daughter, Emma, is now a beautiful woman teaching violin in Brooklyn (I can only hope it’s Hot Cross Buns).  Knowing the struggles and joys of the life of an artist, she continues to radiate Rachel’s light in her passion and adventure with her own musical projects.  Gathering those artists touched by Rachel, Emma organized a tribute concert to benefit cancer victims called Dancing with Rachel Saturday night. 
    Some of the artists, including the 2011 recipient of the White Light Fund scholarship, Giovanina Bucci, never met Rachel.  However, listening to her sing one of Rachel’s songs made it clear that her music lives on. 

 

Carol Abair

    The most emotional performance for me was Carol Abair’s Whistle Me Dixie.  This song, poplularized by Rachel's recording, was written by the imensely talented Abair.  The beauty with which she sang it brought forth the love that Carol has for Rachel.  Sitting next to my sweet daughter, who I used to rock to sleep singing that song, made clear the strength that music has in connecting those touched by it.

 

Linda Bassick and Emma Sky

    Linda Bassick showed the passion that Rachel had for music by singing Rachel's Passion.  That's Linda, on guitar, who I met as a collegue and was Nora's Infant teacher. She is passionate about everything from quality early education to music.  She showed her range by skipping the children's music to sing Passion.  The f-bomb is tossed in there, and I remember one of those drives with Rachel when she was wondering what to call the un-named album that included this track.  She was talking about how her older stuff was so sweet, and that "she used to be nice."  I stopped her and said that that would be a great title for her CD.

 

Mitch Barron, Rik Palieri, Rebecca Padula, and Emma Sky

    I was thrilled to hear my friend, Rebecca Padula, sing one of my favorite Bissex tunes, Eve of Construction, a witty song about spring driving in Vermont.  It reminded me of all the miles I traveled with Rachel.  Rebecca’s own Campfire Light with Rik Palieri’s banjo, Mitch Barron’s bass, and of course, Emma Sky’s violin was exactly the kind of moment that would have had Rachel harmonizing along. 

Introducing Hawkins

... we're pretty sure that's the name that's sticking.

On Christmas morning, Nora found a little something under the tree that couldn't be wrapped.  His name is Hawkins.  The auditions of names was pretty extensive:  Marshmallow and Cocoa were a couple of the first to be tried... then, Gabriel, because she was trying to be Christmas-y.  But after hanging out with this adventurous rabbit, he was dubbed Hawkins after Jim Hawkins in Treasure Island.  It's hard to believe that Nora would be excited about Treasure Island being so very sensitive, but watching the Muppet version softened the story a little- though, she quaked with fear and squished daddy's hand while watching it. She learned the story and started acting it out (and oh, the singing!)  She's been pretending to be Jim ever since and finally started putting her hair up in a ponytail to look more like the cabin boy!

 

So, Hawkins he is and what a fun rabbit!  He's got a fun personality and is fast- almost too fast to snap a photo as he lippity-lops from place to place.  He also seems to like the camera and hops right up to the photographer leading to many photos of just his twitchy little triangular nose!

He's been thoroughly enjoying his "bunny castle" made out of a cardboard box which he has been treating as a gingerbread house.  He likes chasing Nora around while she hops around on her knees pretending to be a bunny.  We even caught him doing a "binky," the rabbit happy dance.  He also likes nibbling on pine cones, timothy hay, the broom, celery leaves, pants jeans, chino, or jammies), kale, a leg of the kitchen counter, toilet paper tubes, and a little strawberry for dessert.  We think he might be part beaver.  But there's also a little evidence to the contrary.