His Three Moons
Many years ago, when Michael Jordan came out of retirement, my best friend from high school, Dave, and I had a day of three Michaels. We watched Jordan's game and then drove to Asheville to see Michael Hedges and Michael Manring perform at the now-defunct Be Here Now.
Hedges and Manring opened the set together, but then they took turns playing solo.
At one point, Manring comes on stage with two bass guitars hanging from his shoulders and a third in his hand. "The third one's a hologram," Hedges laughed as he left the stage.
Manring explained that the laws of physics and his chiropractor made it impossible to hold and play all three himself, so he asked for a volunteer. No hands. I tentatively raise mine. Before I know it, I'm on the stage. It looked something like this.
Someone in the audience took a picture and sent it to me, but it's long lost. Not so with the memory.
This, however, is his most lovely tune:
Ice Cream and Dancing
There are few things in life the Girl likes loves more than ice cream (a new love) and dancing (an eternal love). We had a little outing Sunday that included both.
We began at the Marble Slab Creamery, where freshly made ice cream is mixed with just about anything -- by hand. L wanted "pink ice cream," which left our options somewhat limited. Fortunately, she's wild about strawberries, and strawberry ice cream turned out to be equally popular.
She savored it.
Afterward, we wandered down to the main park, where, unbeknown to us, there was an Irish festival (St. Patty's Day and all...), which included dancing -- sure to hold the Girl's attention.
The dancers were impressive, and L wanted to join them. K literally had to catch her just before she made it onto the stage.
Dancing lessons seem to be a definite future weeknight activity.
Dearest K and L
My girls. The women of my life. Today is your day.
No American celebrates Women's Day. It's not in my blood. I can't tell you when it is like I can explain the date of Thanksgiving or tell you when swimming pools general open (i.e., Memorial Day). And so I'm prone to forget. I remembered in Polska only because I saw all males buying flowers that day and I heard about it in school.
Still, seven years in Poland -- I should remember.
If I could sing you a song, I would. As it is, Peter will have to suffice.
Maybe year...
I'm off to put a reminder in Google Calendar.
The Photographer
The Girl began doing it in Poland, as we were standing outside the church, waiting to go in for her baptismal Mass. Everyone was fretting about this and that -- Will the Girl be able to sit that long? Will she remain calm when taken to the altar? Will the loud singing upset her? -- when L calmly walked over to the tripod and began taking pictures of everyone.
No camera necessary.
None of us realized she had a passion for photography.
We've already begun discussing when to get her camera. After all, when she sees me taking a picture, she often runs over and asks to take a picture herself. Granted, the camera is almost as big as she is, and she doesn't quite get the concept of framing a picture (she just presses the shutter release, and holds it down if I don't switch it to single-picture mode), but she does understand the concept: she takes the picture, then thrusts the camera away from her so she can look at her work.
"Maybe next year," I suggest. "When she's three."
"Or maybe this summer," K says. We are planning several weekend trips this year.
Maybe we'll get the camera this year, and a Flickr account for her next year...
Faulty Installation
Apparently, everything in our beloved gas pack has been installed incorrectly.
This valve should be turned ninety degrees. That would prevent the droplet of water that's clearly visible from freezing, causing the whole unit to shut down until it thaws and the unit resets. This would have saved us the cost of a service call.
Then again, if I'd simply tried to turn it on in the early afternoon, I would have found the heating works.
The Interview
It’s not the best example of her talking, but it shows how much L understands now.
Still Dancing
It has been a while since I made any videos. Six months, to be precise. The reason is simple: our computer crashed, and while re-installing the software I use to make videos, it crashed again. I've just been putting it off since then.
Not much catching up to do -- here's one from December. The Girl dancing to the brushing teeth song.
Candles
During this week's snow "storm," we pretended to be without electricity -- just to see what it would be like.
Disaster
We had a major accident this morning. I wasn't there when it happened, but apparently, it was something dreadful. So dire that the Girl emerged from the bathroom with an improvised finger splint.
The accident involved the seal as well, for he left the bathroom/emergency room with not one, but two adhesive bandages (CVS brand, I think, not BandAid).
After some consultation with Dr. L, I feel confident in saying that the seal is expected to make a full recovery.
Snow Day, Redux
Sunrise on a snow day.
The trees all sag under the load. Local news reports tell of many downed trees; through the morning, I hear chainsaws in the not-so-distant distance: the city already clearing up last night's mess.
There's ice and snow on the early blossoms
and those that chose not to rush the season.
The Girl's swing really stands out on the blue-white snow.
The snow certainly has confused the animals. Our cat is fascinated and annoyed with the snow. She had it easy, though: she didn't have to look for food. Do squirrels in warm climates horde? Are they as unprepared as the locals (like the one who found a novel snow scraper).
Our neighbors made a snow individual last night. Today, it's obvious that a snow Dolly Parton would be more descriptive. They're young, our neighbors.
It's difficult not to look up.
Looking up all the time would be a mistake, though, because the roads are covered with ice in the early morning.
Black ice, they call it. It'll be gone before lunch, turned to a slushy mess. Yet that probably means it will re-freeze overnight and we'll have another day off tomorrow. Two of three built-in snow days gone.
The trees in the backyard made it through the night. It must have been paranoia on my part. After all, how often do trees come down and damage homes? How often does it really happen? Well, truth be told, we have friends in Asheville who had the corner of their house crushed by a large limb from an oak, poplar, or some such tree.
The Girl is excited, running about, looking out the windows. Sadly, it's too slushy to take her out. She's still sick, and without any decent shows or water-resistant clothes, she'd be soaked in minutes.
Update
From the Greenville Times:
Greenville County Schools' offices and schools will be closed Tuesday, the second consecutive day since a snow storm walloped the Upstate, said spokesman Oby Lyles.
Eight schools throughout the county don't have power and school officials don't know when it will come back on, he said. Roads are icy and some secondary roads remain blocked, Lyles said. (Source)
And so tomorrow, more fun with the Girl.
Snow Day
Who knew? The forecast was there, but who trusts forecasters when they say Upstate South Carolina is to get snow? It's like hearing a forecast of rain in Death Valley: seems intriguing, but one assumes the meteorologist is drunk.
It's every child's fantasy. Around Christmas, I show kids pictures from Poland, pictures of kids walking to school with two feet of snow blanketing all but the walk way and kids say, "Mr. S, if it snowed like that, we'd be out of school for a week!" One gets more excited: "For a month!"
Still, it doesn't take much to get officials to call off school here. Indeed, two years ago, officials canceled school on the forecast of a huge storm -- "due to dump tons of snow" -- only to awaken to a light drizzle that never intensified.
By mid-afternoon, it begins; soon there is noticeable accumulation on the deck.
Within an hour, it's snowing heavily -- the kind of snow we haven't seen in over a year. Winters in Polska brought virtually innumerable snowfalls like this. Here, we're discovering, it an once-a-year there.
With this kind of snow, living in the south, there's only one thing a Polish girl can do.
Sit down with a cup of tea and sliwowica (plum brandy that is approximately 140 proof -- a shot of it in hot tea fills the whole house with the fragrance of plums),
with Bida on her lap, watching the snow.
So rare. We miss the snow of Poland -- a real winter -- but the infrequency transforms a sometimes-burden into a jewel.
The snow fall turns to ice, transfiguring limbs to crystal.
We sit and look out our new picture window. "It's the most beautiful picture we'll ever see out this window," K says.
Finally, at half past six, everyone gets their wish: Greenville County Schools will be closed tomorrow. I'm relieved and disappointed: we had a snow-make-up day coming in three weeks. That's gone now. It's about six weeks until our next break. Not only that, but it puts me two full weeks behind schedule with my English I Honors class: Monday we're supposed to be finishing Antigone. We'll be starting it, in earnest, Tuesday.
But still, who can complain?
With all the heavy, wet snow in the trees, I become worried about the damage so much weight can do to trees not accustomed to a winter workout. Since no tree shakers are available, I go out and do the job myself. I knock the ice from some of the trees immediately next to the house, but the big trees -- the ones that can really do the damage, sit in the back yard, out of reach.
As I stand there, I hear limbs cracking, falling, and it takes me just a moment to realize that it's not whole trees falling (it's not that loud). For a moment, though, I'm worried. "Surely our insurance would cover it," I mumble, trudging back into the house.
"Tomorrow," I say before bed, "for a few minutes (for she's sick), we'll introduce the Girl to snow."
Rainy Day
It's a day worthy of the cat in the hat, a day to sit and look out the window, remorseful.
In Poland, it would be called a dzien barowy: "bar day." All the years I was in Poland, though, I don't think I ever spent a dzien barowy actually in a bar. It struck me as somehow, I don't know, reeking of alcoholism (literally and figuratively) to go to a bar in the late morning and spend the entire day there (which, in the area of Polish where I resided, was the definition of a dzien barowy).
Nothing but rain.
Rain and wind -- and worry that the soil has loosened up enough with all the moisture to let a tree reach all the way down and touch its toes. Or our house.
The sun is not shining; it's too wet to play, and even if it weren't so soaking wet, playing outside would be out of the question: the Girl is sick with a massive congestion-producing cold. That has left us figuring out things to do to keep everyone happy, engaged, warm, and dry.
It occurred to me to make for L what Nana often created for me: a tent.
The ingredients are simple: three chairs, a kitchen bar, two blankets, and four deck chair seat cushions.
Just enough room for a bunny, a seal, and a beloved Dalmatian.
Access by invitation only; no adults allowed.
Portraits
A few portraits snapped through the last few days.
Dziemik ("jam") is a new favorite, and she wears it well. It's particularly tasty on a Saturday afternoon when L has been entertaining herself -- quiet well, in fact -- while K and I clean.
We got home Wednesday and L headed straight to her room to rummage through her treasures. The light was perfect, and the camera at hand.
We end each evening with play time in L's room. In fact, we spend a significant amount of our evening in her room, reading, playing, dancing (though only L does the dancing).
Hit or Miss Language
At school, everyone is "Miss." Miss Karen. Miss Cathy. Miss Deborah. Miss Brenda.
Miss Cathy -- L's favorite -- works in Toddler I. L no longer sees her on a daily basis, but her eyes light up when she sees Miss Cathy coming.
Miss Karen, Miss Deborah, and Miss Brenda work in Toddler II, where L spends her days now.
I wondered whether L thinks "Miss" is just part of their name, but it's become obvious that L has separated the "Miss" from the name. She understands it as a prefix, but she still doesn't understand its significance. It's a term she uses with individuals she really likes.
Hence, I am often "Miss Tata" now. K is "Miss Mama." Our cat, "Miss Bida."