Musings of a Whimsical Realist

So I am 5 days late.  Really, 6, if you consider the fact that I am writing this just after midnight and it is technically tomorrow.  My first blog post was on November 20th, 2012.  You can read it here: 1st Blog Post! Looking back, I didn't end up blogging as often as I would have wished in my first year.  Life is often like that, especially when one has to live life rather that just holing up in her office and writing about it.  I "see" life best through words -- doesn't everyone have a narrator in their head, giving a running commentary on every minute detail?  One whose words often spill over into a verbal explosion, as I stand alone washing dishes, and my 6-year-old walks by and nonchalantly asks, "Are you talking to yourself again?"  Yes, that really happens! I hope I can harvest more time out of the garden of my life, as overgrown as it is with all the duties of a wife, mom, teacher, friend, sister, daughter, etc.  In the meantime, happy anniversa

So I am PAINFULLY behind on my Project 24 blog posts . . . mostly due to beginning homeschool for a 1st grader but also in part due to a rather strenuous undertaking that we began in September.  After almost 5 years in our own home, we finally were able to take out the hill that we planned on removing our first year here.  We blame job changes and the arrival of twins for THAT particular delay.  And as any "good" home improvement project goes, it took longer than expected and presented unanticipated issues.  Of course. Here is the hill just before we bought the house. As you can see, it consumes half the width of the yard, excluding the sidewalk.  We knew that we wanted to put in a wall to push back the yard and give us more room . . . and almost 5 years later, we got to begin that process! The first obstacle was dealing with the city and building stuff, etc . . . I won't bore you with all of THAT, but suffice it to say, it was a lesson in futility. Finally, we b

So do you know what isn't like homeschooling a Kindergartener?  Homeschooling a 1st grader!  Sometimes it feels like two different beasts entirely, the latter being a beast that devours my time and my energy and my willpower . . . then again, the thrill as she begins to read and understand stories, as she practices her Christmas song on the piano, as she counts out dimes and nickels and pennies, that thrill can calm the savage beast.  Nevertheless, I finally seem to be finding my footing in the school year (and it "only" took me 3 months), so it's time for some blogging!

This was an interesting topic to contemplate.  I debated writing about my current attempts to purge the excess, to clean out the junk.  We are getting ready to transition to homeschooling full-force, with a full-blown elementary student (1st grade!).  So it's been a good time to throw off that which hinders.  I may yet present a blog on organization and clearing out the clutter.  But for today, I am sharing another poem.  A poem in which each "line" is one word.  Minimal.  Yet I found it to be effective! Sunrise green blue morn's hue gone lost night's cost calm dark owls hark black grey moon's ray night's work shades lurk what? bright! morn's light sun's ray dark AWAY!

The History of Umbrellas What a marvelous invention!  Iconically, we have to nod to Disney’s use of the umbrella (talking, no less) to transport Mary Poppins into London in the movie that cemented his genius. For Valentine’s Day this year, I bought all 3 of my kidlets umbrellas (replacing Firstborn’s first rather beat-up and beyond-repair one).  Each child immediately applied his or her umbrella to a unique and personal use. Firstborn, lacking any rain to test on the umbrella, opened it, turned it upside down, and began to load it with toys.  At 6 years old, she is into packing random items from her room into any and all containers available.  I had to disappoint her by pointing out that loading her umbrella would quickly reduce it to the state of her first one.  She sadly unpacked it. Boy-Twin was thrilled with his umbrella, “oh”ing and “ah”ing over the Buzz Lightyear on the handle.  I demonstrated how to open it, which he mastered almost instantly (my mechanical boy who can

GREY ~ “An intermediate color between black and white, a neutral or achromatic color, meaning literally a color ‘without color’” (Wikipedia). Whimsical realism isn’t the only way that my personality is a study in contradictions.  I am also what I like to call a “rule-following nonconformist.”  What that means is: I love grey areas! I remember as a child hearing a comment regarding my favorite animals at the time – panda bears and orcas: “That is fitting.  They are black and white like you.”  I followed rules almost obsessively.  I had a strong and persistent sense of fairness.  I loved facts and spouted them off like an encyclopedia.  So I understand how people assumed that I am a black and white person.  The obvious signs pointed to “yes.” But internally, a war was taking place.  If something was popular because “everyone wanted it,” it was the LAST thing that I wanted (my high school wardrobe attested to that).  “Titanic” was THE movie of my teen years, and I finally watched it

A Rose entices simple interest -  Piqued by the blood red Silkiness and scented air - Mother Nature disturbs not But man lives for such loveliness - To beautify false structures Of stark barrenness It often dies a slow - slow - Death of cut torture. Yet to those who yearn to capture Its graces - A careless stroke Leads to pain - Behind beauty Lies piercing defenses - All splendor has its costs - Sharpness among magnificence. Oh sweet guarded Siren,  Rustle with the air the wind blows - Bend but do not break - For the Creator of Resplendence Gave you charm and danger - To Him, rise up and sing His glory through your presence.   [Project 24 is a Creative Photography Challenge that I am applying to my own art form -- writing -- and pursuing with several photographer friends via Facebook.]

I was not excited about this topic when I first read over the list.  I am most certainly NOT a girly-girl.  My least favorite color is “pink.”  Ruffles and hearts on clothing make me squirm.  I wear make-up and style my hair on special occasions only. And yet, not wanting to delve too deeply into the feminist aspects of such a question, I realized that I don’t have to look any further than my two girls to see the wonderful diversity of what is feminine. Firstborn is my “tomboy.”  She runs and plays and climbs and bikes like a maniac.  She dances ballet grudgingly, eagerly awaiting the day when she is old enough for the hip-hop class.  She has taken to crying whenever I force her to wear a dress, wanting to be “cool” instead of “pretty” (I wonder at times if she is 6 or 16).  Yet she also “mothers” her siblings on a daily basis.  She loves her long hair and is again growing it out from mid-back to low-back.  Her favorite color is yellow, and she loves all things princess.  She is fem

Almost caught up with the Project 24 fun for April!  The "end" of cold and flu season certainly wasn't March for us!  But Hubby and I managed to sneak in our Christmas present of a weekend without kids.  We enjoyed 3 days around our home while our 3 kids enjoyed grandparents, an aunt, and 3 of the cousins.  Great things come in 3's! "With a Prop" isn't exactly a topic that needs explaining.  It was, however, a fun topic to pursue with my camera phone and Hubby during our weekend of freedom.  He takes the best picture when he has something to pose with . . . and we found a lot of great props in Old Sacramento and the Lassen Volcanic National Park area. At Ikea.  We started without a cart, and I just kept adding and adding and adding.  We also eventually left with two HUGE boxes containing Firstborn's new loft bed. The hat!  Oh, the hat!  I could go on and on and on about Indiana Jones' hat . . . perhaps it deserves its own blog p

Well, I've gotten VERY behind on the Project 24 entries.  We've had a rough month for illness (colds and flus making the rounds between 3 kids and 2 worn-out parents).  I didn't think of anything particularly brilliant to say about "Depth of Field."  But I did take a picture (Yes, I took it!  Amazing, no?) with my camera phone while in the mountains with my hubby that I thought captured the essence of the topic.  And the best part was, it was right next to a field!  Depth of Field Explained [Project 24 is a Creative Photography Challenge that I am applying to my own art form -- writing -- and pursuing with several photographer friends via Facebook.]

It is often said, “Live every day like it is your last.”  To this, I respond, “Yeah, right!” It is a ridiculous statement.  Or, at the very least, wholly impractical.  The main impetus is to motivate me to do all those things that I’ve been putting off.  To stop procrastinating.  To not waste time.  At the same time, there are a multitude of things that I don’t get to spend every day ignoring because (assuming that I will actually survive past today) they are necessary for continued functioning. Nevertheless, it brings up an intriguing line of thought for me.  If I knew that it were my last day on earth, here is the list of things that I WOULDN’T do! 1. Set my alarm clock .  Hey, it’s my last chance to sleep in (something that I’ve pretty much given up since becoming a parent!). 2. Eat a healthy breakfast .  Bring on the homemade waffles, covered in real butter and warm syrup.  Don’t forget the side of bacon! 3. Wash the dishes .  My kitchen seems to take the dirty dishes and l

I’ll admit, this subject had me stumped for a while!  Perhaps it’s the sheer scope of the topic.  Happiness or joy.  I could instantly think of 1,000 spins on this, and at the same time, nothing inspired me . . . until today.  I went outside, breathing deeply of one of my favorite scents – rain – and felt a deep upwelling of joy!  The joy of smelling something and having a million memories run through your head at once, the happy and the sad, intertwined and a part of what makes you who you are. The olfactory sense (the sense of smell) is the sense with one of the strongest and most intense links to memory.  There have been many studies on this phenomenon, especially as regards childhood memories linked to scent.  One interesting fact is that the sense of smell is processed in a different part of the brain than the rest of the senses, one very closely situated to the center for emotion in the brain.  Olfaction and Memory Smell and Memory I love so many wonderful scents.  Here

Just remember: I warned you!  Disneyland is my favorite place, and when I read topic #3, “Street Scene,” I tried and tried to think of something different.  But all I could picture is Main Street, USA, the lane that conducts you from the entrance gates into new worlds.  So after several days of trying to find other inspiration, I gave in. “The idea of Main Street was inspired by Walt’s childhood hometown of Marceline, Missouri" (Little-Known Facts About Well-Known Places: Disneyland).  It is said that Main Street, USA, is meant to feel like everyone’s hometown.  It is beautiful and comfortable all at the same time, and I start every trip to Disneyland skipping down it like a 10-year-old.  If I could ever choose one place to spend the night, I think that it would have to be the 600-square-foot apartment over the Main Street Fire Station.  Walt would actually stay there on occasion when he was visiting the park.  What a thrill to be in the spot where his imagination dreamed of

I love learning something new!  When I looked at topic #2 for Project 24, I realized that it must be referring to something photographic.  The Rule of Thirds is a guide for off-center placement of the subject in photographs.  This may even improve my own EXTREMELY amateur photos.  But I also love how it explains why some pictures are aesthetically pleasing while others flop.  Because while I don’t take outstanding photos, I definitely appreciate looking at them. There is something almost instinctive about looking at and liking a photo that follows this rule.  Rule of Thirds -- Explained and Displayed Apart from the photographic applications of the Rule of Thirds, when I first read those words, I had an entirely different thought.  In my home, the rule of thirds is very much active – every time I have something to give to my three adorable little cretins!  Every parent can understand what I mean by this.  “If she gets some, then I get some!”  This reaction is also quite instinctive,

It is said that we all wear many hats . . . husband, wife, son, daughter, father, mother, cook, chauffeur, friend . . . the list would go on and on and on.  But in the literal sense, there are thousands of hats worn every day.  Many of them are distinctive to our occupations, but some hats are just plain fun.  And probably one of (if not THE) most recognizable hats in the world is a simple cap with two round protrusions.  The famous Mickey Mouse ears! Mickey Mouse is the 3rd most recognizable character in the WORLD after Santa Claus and Ronald McDonald.  Between its opening in 1955 and its 50th anniversary in 2005, Disneyland alone sold 78 million pairs of Mickey Mouse ears.  That is enough to adorn every child in America under the age of 18! “The all-time most popular Disneyland souvenir is a pair of personalized Mickey Mouse ears.  While the embroidery is free, the Mat Hatter and other shops that sell them will not allow guests to have them adorned with the name of a famous pers

[Written shortly after our trip in November 2012] Impatient waiting.  Air of expectation.  Gates open!  Enter Main Street.  Nostalgia welling.  Lights twinkling.  Skipping feet.  Spot the castle gleaming brightly.  Head into the future.  Fly in space.  Meet an android.  Race around the stars in darkness.  Dance with Jedi.  Swim with Nemo.  Race away from abominable snowmen.  Pixie Hollow, full of fairies.  It’s a Small World after all.  Into Toon Town.  Shake hands with Mickey.  Tea with Minnie in the garden.  Grab a train ride.  Travel to New Orleans.  Jazz music softly playing.  Into the pirates lair.  Yo ho, yo ho, over to Pooh Corner.  Play a game of Pooh Sticks there.  Take the plunge into the briar patch.  Back to Adventure now.  Run away from snakes with Indy.  Take a jungle tour around.  Kick your heels up in the Golden Horseshoe.  Hold on tight through the wildest ride in the wilderness.  Now into the world of fantasy.  Soar with Dumbo.  Avoid strangers with apples.  Sail

As the fall/winter season drags on, I begin to miss something more and more each day: sunshine!  I LOVE sunshine!  I crave it.  I let it pour over me, warming me to the absolute core of my being. Don’t get me wrong, my melancholy temperament thrills at a dense fog or a gloomy overcast sky.  But sunshine is vital to keeping that same melancholy in check instead of allowing it to steam-roll my emotions into a soggy, tearful mess.  “Seasonal affective disorder (also called SAD) is a type of depression that occurs at the same time every year.  If you're like most people with seasonal affective disorder, your symptoms start in the fall and may continue into the winter months, sapping your energy and making you feel moody” (Mayo Clinic).  This is the technical explanation for why I crave sunlight in the winter.  “A drop in serotonin, a brain chemical (neurotransmitter) that affects mood, might play a role in seasonal affective disorder.  Reduced sunlight can cause a drop in serotonin

As I sat there that day during my high school years, I was unaware that a seed was about to be planted.  I can’t remember if I was in church, at school, or with my youth group, but I remember the exact moment that the words sunk into my heart: “In China, because they are only allowed one child, hundreds of little girls are left without families every year.”  And for the first time, years away from motherhood, I considered the word ADOPTION.  The seed planted was watered many times over the years.  In college, I discovered a love (passion, even) for world geography and history.  I took for fun (yes, I’m a bit crazy like this) History of the Far East.  I worked with children professionally as a piano teacher and voluntarily at my church.  In 2007, I was finally transformed into a mother with the birth of my eldest daughter.  Deep within me, the planted seed sprouted, waiting, in a kind of calm stasis.  Then, in 2011, the twins were born.  As we rejoiced in their arrival and made the