the girl | matching tracksuits

Egg Party

Monday 6 April 2009

For a few years now, we’ve been having people over one evening as Easter appears to have an Easter egg painting party. We were squeezed for time this year; we weren’t sure whether or not we’d get everything together.

Then friends saved the day by beating us to the punch. The only thing we had to do: bring eggs.

As might be expected, L greatly enjoyed preparing the egg dye. It was, in fact, the first time we used store-bought dye. K usually boils the eggs with onions skins, turning the eggs a rich reddish-brown.

This was the first year L was old enough to paint, and she took to it like a natural. She was unfazed when her egg tumbled from the high kitchen counter where everyone was working. Once she had it back in her hands, she continued as if nothing happened.

It was the first year I didn’t paint an egg, though. Not the first time in my life, for I grew up not celebrating Easter.

When I got back home, I saw a message on a social networking site from a friend who was “spring cleaning/deleavening today!” Someone else who doesn’t celebrate Easter but instead, the Jewish Old Testament festivals.

Deleavening — cleaning the house to get literally every single crumb from the house, for leaven is a symbol of sin — seems much less enjoyable than what we were doing. I haven’t been involved in deleavening in many, many years now, and I must say: Easter egg painting is a much more rewarding spring tradition.

And you can’t exactly invite your friends over for an afternoon of deleavening.

Well, you could, but first you’d have to explain what it is. It can be, in its own way, a very spiritual activity:

I always pray for deleavening/unleavening because there are no voids in the universe. There is no “empty.” If something is taken away, it is replaced with something else (e.g., when water is removed from a glass, it is replaced with air).

Deleavening requires God’s help. Just as my house can’t deleaven itself (I have to do it), I can’t deleaven myself (God has to do it). I, though, choose to cooperate or resist and I am responsible for the choices I make. As I’m deleavened, those empty places need to be filled with unleavenedness, and God also has to do to do that (just as I make or buy unleavened bread and bring it into my house each year – I do wish sometimes it would materialize all by itself since my personality doesn’t lend itself to enjoying the precise formulation of baking). Again, I choose to cooperate or resist the unleavening part of the process. (All the Strange Hours)

One cannot wax theological about Easter egg painting.

Well, an egg is a symbol of life, but beyond that?

Really, it’s not important. There doesn’t have to be theological meaning behind everything in life. Sometimes, it’s just about the painting.

The Concert

Friday 3 April 2009

We’ve been wanting to get the Girl singing captured on video. We managed to do that last night, but we weren’t expecting this kind of concert:

Zupa

Wednesday 1 April 2009

You’ve Got Kissibility

Wednesday 25 March 2009

“You can be a star — it ain’t hard.”

All you’ve got to do is have the right shades.

And have an eye-catching pose or two.

And know how to put your sunglasses on right side up — something that’s initially challening for a two-year-old.

With Papa

Monday 23 March 2009

Nana and Papa came over for a late lunch yesterday, which meant a string of “Yes’s” and “Of course’s” from Papa. Because we all know who always says, “Yes.”

The light was warm and the Girl was occupied; only one thing to do.

K said just yesterday, “We have so many pictures at the swing!” Portraits are supposed to reflect the subject and her personality, and what better way than to take pictures where she loves to be?

But point taken, K — enough with the swing, already!

Reading

Thursday 19 March 2009

We took the Girl to the library this weekend. Favorite books were getting stale; she needed something new. Though she wound up obsessed with Curious George, she was initially fascinated with other things.

Big Wolf

Saturday 14 March 2009

A new story L likes to tell — Big Wolf. The premise is careful: “Big Wolf! Be careful! Run away!”

Gumkas

Friday 13 March 2009

Ice Cream and Dancing

Monday 9 March 2009

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.

More pictures available at Flickr.

Dearest K and L

Sunday 8 March 2009

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…

Shaking the Tree

I’m off to put a reminder in Google Calendar.

The Photographer

Sunday 8 March 2009

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…

The Interview

Friday 6 March 2009

It’s not the best example of her talking, but it shows how much L understands now.

http://www.youtube.com/v/qyAnrp0-_CQ

Still Dancing

Thursday 5 March 2009

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.

Disaster

Tuesday 3 March 2009

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

Monday 2 March 2009

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

Monday 2 March 2009

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.

1/30, f/6.3, 110 mm, flash reflected off ceiling

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?

Late Winter Storm, Front Yard II — 39.7 seconds, f/11.0, 18 mm

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.

Late Winter Storm, Backyard I — 70.2 seconds, f/11.0, 18 mm

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

Sunday 1 March 2009

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.

Notice the fine finishing job on the underside of the bar…

Just enough room for a bunny, a seal, and a beloved Dalmatian.

Access by invitation only; no adults allowed.

Portraits

Thursday 26 February 2009

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

Wednesday 25 February 2009

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.”

Bean Counter

Sunday 22 February 2009

In Albert Camus’ The Plague, one of the characters — referred to as “the Spaniard” if I recall correctly — sat in bed with two bowls, counting peas, moving them from one bowl to another. So many repetitions of this and it was lunch time; so many more, dinner; still more, and it was time for sleep. It was Camus’ portrait of nihilism, the notion that all life is meaningless and amounts to little more than waiting for death.

Then there are accountants, known affectionately as bean counters. Is there so kind of connection? Perhaps there is something ultimately nihilistic about spending one’s time, counting other people’s money. Then again, most accountants do fairly well counting, so perhaps it’s not as bad as the Spaniard.

L has taken to counting beans, though she does it literally.

It’s something they do in Montessori, something all the kids enjoy: moving dry beans from one container to another and back again. It’s wonderful for developing coordination and an understanding of materials.

And when a mis-aimed cup spills beans all over the floor, it’s an opportunity to deal with frustration (something L is not very good at without accompanying vocalizations) and patience.

And it keeps her busy long enough for me finish picadillo.

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