the runaway

the runaway, originally uploaded by la_la_la345.

this is very cute :)

may I go die of cuteness now?

Setsubun Totoro bento!, originally uploaded by kickintheheadcomic.

Ohmygoodness. Totoro food platter for Setsubun (Bean-Throwing Festival in Japan).

give me now! NOW!!! Though I wouldn't be able to eat it. I'd have to start with all the decorations and then maybe I'd have the heart to tackle catbus and totoro.

ok, I'm going to go scream in a corner now. it's too much cuteness to handle.

the noise

Passover sedar. This year it was quiet, just our family with a delicious home cooked meal and our new lovely blue plates and place mats.
We rarely eat in our dining room, which is unfortunate because the lighting is beautiful.
The painting in the background is one of my favorites. It was a gift from a well-known Chinese painter whom my grandmother befriended in Chinatown shop. She has a knack for making friends. This painter sent us many paintings from his studio.
My sedar plate.
Ben's sedar plate. We made these four years ago.
Pouring the wine *coughoranginacough*





This time of year is always very painful for me. The snow has melted and the earth has warmed, the air bubbles and life grows big and full. Ideas and plans churn like frothy orange juice. But they are plans, the reality is that there are still two more months of school left and ten exams. Stress to be had, grades to bring up, nights of little sleep and hours of procrastination. The truth is, when you stay at home doing school (and rigorous school, not cursory half-butted homeschooling like some assume) your home becomes a prison, not a haven. See these walls you know so well, that you could trace in the dark, with smudges of fingerprints, lines of accidental pencil marks?

Do you see the fraying carpet, the dust settled on the window sill? Can you picture it?

The smudges are prints of foreheads banged against walls, the pencil marks are counting the number of days, the fraying carpet is from a constant war with the office chair, the dust is left because you don't want to be reminded of windows and open space when you're trapped inside.

THAT is the truth. I will buy the roses myself, thank you very much.

-----

OK, so that's an exaggeration. Limitations of language, you know? Sometimes you have to exaggerate in order to conjure a feeling. See: Virginia Woolf, Paul Auster, Laurence Sterne. Try getting to know someone by instant messaging them. It only works for so long. Eventually, the crashing waves must retreat, leaving mangled ditritus and tangled seaweed nestled in wet sand.

ok ok ok that's ANOTHER exaggeration. I don't really believe that. I think I'm in a cynical mood this fine spring evening.

BUT something I always remember is - you can IM someone for two hours and you won't know as much about who they are, what their essence is, than if you spent 10 minutes talking with them face to face.

Why is that? If you're an externally sensitive person, you probably are aware of nuances. How does he carry himself? Does she face you or does she stand at angle from you? Does he make eye contact? Do his pupils dilate? Is her face angled up or down? Does she fidget, lick her lips, scrunch her nose?

Tone of voice: aggressive, passive, dismissive, forced? Confident, gentle, sincere, light hearted?

All o f these cues form a current of noise coming from each person. It's all intuition. You can't learn to interpret the noise. You're either born with the ability or without, though it can be fine-tuned with practice. The noise tells you about someone's character - who they really are, beyond the pleasantries and banter.

If you're still reading, let me give you a brief example.

I'll spare you boring background details. Here's the essence of the story.

A man comes to a relative's house that I'm visiting. I am introduced to him, I watch him talk to my aunt and parents. I observe.

I am told his man will be baby-sitting five of my young cousins while all the parents go out to dinner. I am immediately taken back. Don't let him do that. Do not let him baby sit your kids.

Oh it will be fine, relax.

Later, the parents come home early. What happened?

The man called. Asked when the boys' parents were coming home. Said he couldn't handle it anymore and was going to leave.

Thankfully everything was ok and he didn't leave the five little boys alone in the apartment.

How did I know?

The noise. It never fails. You cannot lie.

autumn

"made in China"

sorry, no words today. I need to save them for an essay.

All images taken autumn 2009, edited winter 2010. I'm considering getting a flickr or deviantart account because blogger just doesn't do the photos justice.

The heart image is not photoshopped. I've only edited color curves.

Poppy

Avogadro, center

We called him Avogadro because of his large size.

But I called him Poppy.

His lips sucked in and out in a forever hunt for food. I liked to imagine that if I hung, silently with my eyes closed, suspended in the water next to him, I could hear a faint pop! every time he opened and closed his toothless mouth.

He was charmingly plump and when he swam his whole body endearingly wiggled back and forth. His favorite food was thawed peas and duckweed, which he gobbled and eyed us like a boy in a candy shop, asking for more.

His stout body had the deceptive appearance of sturdy health. When we returned home from vacation last year, he bobbled at the top of the water like an inflated balloon. We rushed him to the aquarium where he spent a couple weeks recuperating back to health. A man offered a hundred dollars for our Avogadro, but we declined and took him home.

Over the next few months his health came in spurts. We tried everything we could - antibiotics, less food, colder water - but in the end it was lack of stomach that killed him. His, literally, as goldfish have a single, long intestine in place of a stomach. Us, figuratively, as we could not bear to see him suffer.

Poppy lived a well-loved life.

buttery sunshine

Dear Summer, you are mine. the sky is pregnant with clouds and raindrops fall like the damp tip-toe of small feet. Your back arches with meadows, the grass is soft and sweet and glows. Flower stretch their vermilion heads, their petals laced with perfume. oh summer, how you smell of half-baked earth and cool stone, warm sticky honey and fresh corn, sweet smiles and lips stained red with watermelon. oh the watermelon, juices run down your chin like tears, the green and cream rinds ferment in the backyard compost.

the rain has ceased, the clouds crack open like time-worn granite, revealing a shattering blue sky. slowly they melt away, traces of the storm dry up like snail tracks left on a hot sidewalk. you and I are standing with our toes tasting puddles and our minds hugging the buttery sunshine.

all images by me, pre-dslr.

family of four takes turn around lake! spots wolf and prisoner!

Don't you love it when you're just walking along and - OH MY GOD there's a prisoner's mitten on a tree!!

In other words, the family and I went for a walk around one of the lakes last Sunday. We were originally going to go to Purgatory, but we decided that it would be to far of a drive.
Aww.
That's right, Didi doesn't walk around lakes - he glides.

When I look at this photo I think snow! desert! oasis! and angels in my head belt out a chorus of "Silent Night."

Lone dog runs on frozen lake.

The CUTEST chimney EVER! I'd be happy to live in the chimney, except they probably have chicken wire in each of the "windows" to prevent birds for getting high on chimney smoke.

When I was looking through photos I thought, Gee that must be mom and dad walking off into the distance. How cute.

Upon closer inspection it turned out to be Didi. Yikes. He really is growing.

Don't you hate it when you're riding in a car and - OMG a cute doggy pokes its nose out the window! And then you feel obliged to pull out the camera, take a photo, and upload it to your blog. Sheesh.

Note the juxtaposition of the street signs: ONLY turn left into the MAC store, but don't actually enter it or park next to it.

Next time: Pizza Luce's stomach-turning pizza! (that's where this dog is headed.)