Fairy Tales

A couple of nights ago, I read The Nightingale by Hans Christian Andersen to my daughter.  I had never read it before, and was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed it.

I found an old copy of Andersen’s fairy tales some months ago and picked it up with the idea of reading some of them to Aida.  It’s a neat old book with interesting illustrations by Arthur Szyk and twenty-nine tales translated into English by E.V. Lucas and H.B. Paull.  The Nightingale was the first one we’ve read.

I’m familiar with a few of the stories, having been exposed to them in various forms in my childhood; The Ugly Duckling, The Emperor’s New Clothes, and The Princess and the Pea have been told and retold in our popular culture.  I’ve never read the original stories, though, and I’m completely unacquainted with the majority of the tales in this collection.  It’ll be interesting to see how some of the rest compare to The Nightingale.

The cover of the book has an illustration from The Nightingale.  “I will sing to cheer you and make you thoughtful too.”

missed connection

A few minutes ago, I was lying in bed listening to a radio adaptation of James Blish’s Surface Tension*, when I noticed a small, rather quick spider moving across the ceiling.  I was reminded of a time a few months ago when Aida and Jen were visiting…we were lying in bed, watching a spider on the ceiling.  It suddenly began rapidly descending on a web, right for my head.  I barely avoided a head/spider collision.

As I was just now lying in bed, remembering my previous spider on the ceiling episode and watching this particular spider crawling from one spot to another, I realized it was coming closer and closer to a location directly above my head.  Two or three times it dropped down an inch or so on a strand of web, returning, after a short time dangling, to the ceiling.  After each descent, it repositioned itself closer to my head.  Then, when it was directly above my head, it began a quick fall, supported by its web.  I rolled out of bed, and it returned again, perhaps reluctantly, to the ceiling.  Now, as I write this, it is crawling away from the spot above the bed to some other part of the ceiling.

I think it wanted to make friends by dropping onto the surface of my eyeball, or exploring the depths of my cavernous maw.

I just looked for it again, and can’t find it on the ceiling.  Maybe it lowered itself down somewhere, offended that I didn’t remain lying on the bed, my forehead a beckoning landing-platform.

*I read Surface Tension a few years ago as part of a collection called The Seedling Stars, while visiting my family in Minnesota.  I liked it a lot, and thinking of it makes me think of my parents’ cabin and being there with family.  It’s a very good thing to feel.

Yuck!

this post is a couple of weeks old...
 
I spent some wonderful time with my family.  It was just fabulous and I had lots and lots of fun.  We played all sorts of games, including Old Yucky, who likes to eat things like moldy bread dipped in sour milk and mixed with rotten eggs and broken glass.  We played Flo’s Diner with Jake the Trucker and Jake the Daughter.  Flo makes the best soap coffee this side of the Mississippi.  Later, Amelia Earhart began making appearances at the diner.

I recently had some more scar tissue break up in my pelvis (there has been lots of that during this recovery).  It seems to have made a significant difference, as if it may have been some of the last problematic scar tissue in the pelvis…I am having less muscle spasms and they are not being triggered as easily.  I’ve been able to move around a little more easily.  I’m very excited!

It took a few days for my brain to adjust to being by myself again.  For a couple of days, I felt anxious and depressed and didn’t do as many physical therapy exercises or read or listen to much.  I am feeling better now, thankfully.

Speaking of reading, I really like talking with Jen about reading and books.  And, wow, did we read a lot of books with Aida!  She enjoys it immensely.  It seems like there are really a lot of good children’s books.  I think I like a lot of them more than many adult books.

Parents

I was lying in bed today and, for some reason, started thinking about a trap my dad made for me when I was a little kid.  It was a box trap and was based on traps my dad had made when he was a kid.  It was incredibly cool.

He built it out of plywood, and I think the top was made of hardware cloth.  The front was a door that fit through a slot at the top and slid down to seal the box.  When setting the trap, you used a stick to prop open the door.  Tied to the base of the stick was a piece of string attached to a little piece of wood.  You'd smear some food onto that and place it in the back of the box.  The string was short enough that it was pulled taut.

So, you'd place the box by, say, a gopher hole, get it set up, and then check on it regularly.  And did it work!  It was fun being able to see the animal up close before opening the door and watching it dash away.

We used a tinker-toy to prop open the door--it was just the right length.  I remember delicately balancing the thin plywood door on the very edge of the tinker-toy end, making sure a little tug on the bait would trip it, sending the door sliding quickly down.  I can still remember the smell of the peanut butter as we spread it on the bait holder.

My dad made lots of things for me and my siblings.  So did my mom.  Man, were they fun!  After watching Indiana Jones, my dad made my brother and me each wooden machetes.  They were so cool!  My mom, when I asked if she would make me a stuffed animal, made me one out of socks.  I named him Sockman, and now Aida plays with him today.

From the coolest race-track for toy cars and an intricate Japanese garden terrarium to wooden dinosaurs and tree houses (and lots of other stuff), they made us so many wonderful things.  Many of the projects were collaborative, and I learned a lot that way.  They played with us and they let us explore on our own.  I'm not sure how they managed what felt to me like the perfect balance, but they did.  All those home-made projects, all the playing, and all the time spent together were great meanderings of imagination and love.  And for that, I am deeply grateful.

Giant Robots!

Or, pretty small robots, really.

I got these plastic robots out of 25 cent machines at a pizza joint back in Bismarck when I was a kid.  They were so much fun!  I made up stories about their adventures--cosmic, star-spanning narratives...the robots traversing the galaxies, friends no matter what.

One great thing about being a kid is that you can play anywhere and no one gives you a weird look.  I remember one time, I was playing with these robots on a chain-link fence at a soccer and softball complex.  There was the freshly mowed grass, the cool metal of the fence, the vast sky overhead, and me--with the little robots jumping up the geometric spaces between the links of the fence.  I doubt anyone thought I was strange as I narrated a story in my head explaining the actions of these solid color wonders as they hopped up the fence.  If I did that in public now, I think I'd get some strange looks.

 Not that I don't get some strange looks, anyway.

Aida likes playing with them now...just this morning we had a tea party with all of them.  And a couple of her other friends, too.

ice, snow, and wind

We've been getting into ice fishing this winter.  Jen's brother gave me a manual auger for Christmas, and we gave it a try in January.  We've been out a few times now, and are learning more every trip.  Aida has come with on all but one of the times.  She's a pretty big fan, and she held a fishing rod this weekend and tried fishing!

Here is a picture from a couple of weeks ago, when my mom was in town:

Gramma caught the first fish of the day!

And here is a picture of her and me.

When we went fishing yesterday, there were spots of open water, so I'm not sure how much more ice fishing there will be this winter, although the ice was still thick where we drilled a hole.  It was really windy yesterday, with lots of blowing snow.

Before this winter, I'd only been out ice fishing with my dad a couple of times...once in North Dakota and once in Minnesota.  The time in Minnesota, my dad had entered a fishing tournament on the lake near their place and I walked across the lake to meet him after the tournament had already started.  There were tons of people on the ice.  My dad told me what he would be wearing, so that I might find him more easily.  He said something like "I'll have duck canvas coveralls and a blue stocking hat on."  Well, I got out to where everyone was fishing and standing around, and there must have been 500 people with duck canvas coveralls on!

I did find him--pretty quickly, somehow--and sat with him while he fished.  It was very, very cold.  I had heavy pack boots on and my feet were still icicles before much time had passed.  I didn't see anyone there catch a fish, but we had fun!

Dad

russian olive tree outside the window

I'm listening to some Charley Pride and drinking a cup of coffee. I have nothing really in mind to write at the moment.

It is almost summery here. And now the sun is going down.

We worked a bit in the back yard today, getting ready for gardening. My folks were here for a couple of days and left this morning. I had a great time with them. I want to see them more.

That's all for right now...maybe more some other time.

the only decent part of the papes

Francis is sitting on my lap. She’s warm.

Remember that comic strip Cathy? I’m pretty sure that Cathy said something about how good a warm cat sitting in your lap is.

I tried to be very thorough when reading the comics page when I was a kid. My family got the Tribune, and I’d read every strip in the funnies, even the ones I didn’t particularly like. I’d give them a chance, anyway. My favorites were probably Alley Oop (remember the time-traveling caveman?) and the Peanuts. I also liked Hagar the Horrible, The Wizard of Id, B.C., Shoe, and, when the Tribune started carrying it a bit later, Calvin and Hobbes. But I read Rex Morgan M.D., Cathy, and a couple others just out of an anti-prejudicial attitude…or more likely it was something along the lines of wanting to be complete and leaving nothing undone. You know, being a bit obsessional. Is that a word?

As I got a little bit older, I remember understanding Cathy a little bit better, and I think in retrospect I actually kinda like it.

Right back at you...

Okay. I'm sitting here trying to type with a kitty in my lap. Quite awhile ago I made a hint that I was going to mention on this blog the cat that has entered our lives. She is the sweetest, most wonderful cat and both me and the other one here in this house love her lots! She really likes sitting in your lap and getting petted or just being close. I think she might be trying to type now...or maybe she's just stretching.

Anyway, she just showed up one day last fall at our old place. I saw her in the front yard and then, a bit later in the day, we heard meowing and looked up to see a cat on its hind feet, its front paws on the window sill, peering in through the front porch window. And she kept looking at us and meowing.

Well, it didn't take long and we had picked up some food and put a cardboard box with some rags on the porch. She slept on the porch for a few days, until we started hearing some very vocal foxes in the night right outside our house. They seemed angry that she had moved into their general area, but who knows what they were really saying?

So, then the cat moved into the landlord's garage at night and mostly stayed on the porch during the day. We took her to the vet, decided on a name (Francis--the saint who was a beggar), and just pretty much fell in love.

We left for the holidays and our downstairs neighbor very kindly took her in while we were gone. ***Francis is licking my cereal bowl at the moment.*** We got back and in the summer moved to a new place. She came with and moved into our garage and yard.

Then, while I was away a few months ago, my partner called and asked what I thought about letting her in the house. We both thought "yeah, that sounds like a good idea!" And now she's in the house with us, except for when she wants to get outside for awhile and roll around on her back. So she went from living on the porch and sleeping in a garage to climbing into our bed at night! She's basically the most loving cat and I'm so happy she's here.

I wasn't planning on writing about Francis when I began this post, but sometimes that's the way things go.

seasonal

It's a Wednesday night. It's also autumn and very beautiful. I pretty much always love this time of year. Memories of childhood and adolescence are intricately wound up in this season for me. The smells, the feel of the air, all the little indications that fall is here and winter is coming connect in my mind to events and emotions of years past.

I came across a little garter snake today. It was really tiny and so cute. When you pick up a garter snake they let off a stinky scent--it must be an escape tool. I remember this from when I was a kid. I can distinctly recall the smell. I caught hundreds of snakes. In the swamp below where I lived, at this lake I used to go to, all over the place. Garter snakes and bullsnakes. Sometimes snakes got loose in our house, and my Mom would find them a few days later, curled up by the fireplace.

Some thing are different now. But fall is still crisp and falling leaves and cottonwoods.

another morning

Summer is on it's way out. I had that surgery back in the spring, and thought that by now I'd be running around, feeling good. That's not the way it's turned out so far. I'm trying today to get a better attitude about all this. I think it would probably help in a lot of ways. So, I'm working on that.

My folks were here for a long weekend and we had a lot of fun. Played a lot of cards, too. Does anyone know how to play the game Whist? For some reason I'd like to learn how to play it.

Speaking of learning--I took a hunter's education class over the last couple of weeks. There was a lot of information. And I learned quite a bit. I'd put money on me being the only vegan in the class. Probably ever. I hadn't taken an official test for some time, but there it was--like high school or something--a fifty question test. The class covered a lot more than what was included on the test, and all in all, I'm happy I took the class.

Jen has started teaching another semester. That really makes it feel like summer is soon to be a memory. The mornings have a distinct autumn chill that makes me think of flannels.

an interview

interviewer for the microcosm of people who occasionally check-out this rarely updated blog (impwoctrub): Welcome back to this blog.

me: Thanks.

impwoctrub: What have you been doing recently?

me: Not much, I guess. But I did just get back from a trip home to see my family and some friends. I got to see my mom, dad, sister, and brother, my niece and nephew, and my gramma and several cousins, an aunt, and uncles.

We had a family reunion with lots of hanging out, playing games and cards, eating, drinking coffee, and talking. After the extended family left, my immediate family stuck around awhile and we did more of the above. And played with my nephew. That kid is one cute baby. I even changed a couple of diapers.

On my way to Jen's folks' place, I stopped and saw some old friends in Fargo. It was really fun and I'm glad we still see each other, even though it's not nearly often enough. Plus, I got to play some video games with a great 3 1/2 year old and meet his little brother.

After spending some time with Jen and her folks we came back home; we just got in last night. Now I'm trying to readjust to being here. It's always a strange transition coming home from a trip.

impwoctrub: What else?

me: I don't know.

impwoctrub: Excellent. Can't wait for the next interview....Well, thanks. As always, it's been riveting.

cross colours and barbarians or 301st post!

Greetings. What an occasion--the 301st post on this here flyingears blog! I figured I better post something really special to mark this grand happening, and, what do you know, the perfect thing just presented itself as I was rummaging through a box.

Perhaps, if you grew up when I did and were in junior high and high school in the early nineties, you recall Cross Colours clothing. Back then, I knew they were cool--I mean really, really cool--but I only knew of them in a kind of vague, I've-heard-of-them and I've-maybe-seen-one-person-wearing-them sort of way. I definitely had never worn a pair of Cross Colour pants or donned a brightly colored shirt bearing that very hip logo.

But all of that was about to change, maybe, if I could just save enough money and get to some amazing place that sold the elusive Cross Colours garments.

One day in some winter when I must have been in junior high, I took a trip with my friend and his family in their big van (complete with tv and vcr--we watched Young Guns II enroute!) to Minneapolis. It was quite a trip. The van was broken into in the hotel parking lot, the tv and vcr were stolen, and, worst of all, my copy of Young Guns II--still in the vcr--was stolen (unknowingly, I'm sure). The blow of the theft was somewhat lessened, though, when my friend and I pulled on the handle of a newspaper machine in the hotel lobby and the spring-action door opened right up, revealing not only free newspapers (big deal) but the whole money box of quarters and other shiny coins!

Anyway, the real point of bringing this up is that I had saved up money for this big trip because we were going to go to...the Mall of America! Yes, I remember it so well. I distinctly remember being in the bathroom of the Mall of America. In fact, that's probably my most vivid memory of the whole malling experience. But also memorable, and the reason I'm even writing about that trip, was the incredible piece of clothing that I bought with the money I had saved.

My folks wouldn't buy expensive, trendy shit for us kids. Although I thank them now for it, back then I decided to save what money I could get and purchase something truly cool--a bright yellow, zippered Cross Colours flannel. I remember it so well. It didn't really fit worth a shit, but it was so, so cool. And it had a zipper.

I don't know what ever happened to that flannel, but I hope that somewhere someone is still wearing it.

It came with a Cross Colours sticker, because all smart companies know that stickers are a good advertising scheme.

Today, I was going through some stuff that my parents dropped off awhile ago--a few boxes of old stuff from childhood all the way through high school. In one of those boxes I found an old catalog I used to get that sold swords and all kinds of medieval weapons and clothes and armor. I used to flip through those catalogs and look at the longswords and think how cool it would be to have a real sword. I'm not sure what I would have done with one had I ever gotten one (maybe it would have been the Norman Sword or the Irish Sword, both simple, practical swords, you know), but I suppose some sort of adventure would have ensued.

Well, I found stuck on one of these catalogs of swords the old Cross Colours sticker. I just couldn't imagine a better combination and I really want to share it with you. So, here it is. Beautiful, isn't it?