The Texture Of Things

Popping In

February 21st, 2007

1. I have enabled comment verification because a couple of entries are getting pounded by comment spam. I’m not really in a position at this time to look into better methods of spam prevention, but I will as soon as I can because I generally prefer comments to go up immediately. So, rest assured, if you are a real person leaving a real comment, I’ll approve it. I promise.

2. Things are still profoundly busy at the texture ranch. I will post on some stuff soon. Or something.

3. A rumor has it that there is a WHOYCBE gift in the ether for me and there is promise it could materialize soon. When it does, it does. I promise to post immediately upon its arrival.

4. Love you all. Be back soon.

Before I Forget (a Baby Book entry)

February 13th, 2007

This belongs in the baby book, and if I don’t write it down soon, I will forget it.

When the tot started showing an interest in animals, right around three days old or something, I began telling her the names of the animals. That got boring pretty fast, so we moved on to learning each animal’s sound. Except, there’s a problem with this. I don’t really know what a lot of animals say. Giraffes? Rhinos? Hippos? Zebras? Groundhogs? Butterflies? Bunnies? Come on. Like I have any idea.

But the need to know what an animal says is like an itch, when you are one year old. Saying “I don’t know what a giraffe says, honey schnookums” is like telling that toddler “An itch? Just don’t think about it.” In the end, you’ve got to scratch the itch or you yourself will go crazy from the endless petitions for a response now, woman.

So to prove the adage “Necessity is the mother of invention,” or something, I came up with a stock answer for when I didn’t know what something said. An otter? An otter says, “Hello, I am an otter.” A turtle? It says, “Hello, I am a turtle.”

It took a while, but I later noticed the tot starting to mimic these animal rejoinders.

“Moo. Moo.”

“Hello, I am a pig. Oink.”

“Hi, I am a camel.”

But the moment when I fully realized how glad I was that I had started saying this to her came one night last fall, as HG got the tot ready for bed. He was putting her into a shirt that read “I /heart/ Daddy.”

He pointed to the shirt and asked her, as he always does at bedtime, “What does this say?”

She thought for a second and said, “Hello. I am a shirt.”

Oh may these moments never fade from my memory. You know, like when she hits 14.

I Beg Your Pardon

February 11th, 2007

I don’t mean to be so absent, so I’m dropping in to say that posting will be sparse for a bit. In addition to my classes kicking my ass (wait – I’m the teacher. How’d that happen?), I’m working a lot of hours at my mother’s store for the next month or so. My uncle, her usual partner in crime retail, is out having surgery. He’s recovering well, but it’ll be a while before he can reclaim the helm.

I miss you dearly and I’m cataloguing posts to write and publish, and I will post when I can. I’m still reading everywhere, as you know if you’ve checked your hit counter, but my rare comments are going to be even rarer for now.

As for the WHOYCBE gift, no, it has not arrived. I promise that I will drop whatever I’m doing and post if it does come, even if that means making the tot wait for a diaper change or to have her nose wiped.

Imagine my surprise yesterday when I came home to find a plain brown box had arrived for me. I thought, “Could it be?! Could it really be here?!” The answer, I’m embarassed to admit, is no – the box was a bunch of stuff I bought on eBay. Um, DUH. /sigh. The excitement was nice while it lasted, though.

Your Assistance, Please

February 1st, 2007

Please report typos, bad or broken links, and other generally not working things to the author of this weblog. Your assistance will be rewarded with, I don’t know, a jaunty wave and a greeting yelled in a bad accent*.

We’re (and by “We’re” I mean “HG is”) working on establishing a hit counter, report thingie for ye olde bloge, and I discovered there were some bad links in some archived entries. I think I’ve fixed them, but who the heck knows at this point if I got them all.

*Accent to be chosen by the proprietor of this weblog. No two accents and/or waves will be identical. Your results may vary.

Groundhog’s Day is Finally Here (Edited)

February 1st, 2007

Set your VCRs, kids (DVRs, for those in living in the new millennium). Tomorrow is the premier of another episode in the second season of Jack’s Big Music Show.

I know very little about this episode, aside from what’s listed on the website* and the fact that we will be taping this episode, come hell or high water. Why? I’ll tell you why. Jon Stewart will be in it.

Why should we care about Jon Stewart having a bit part on a kids’ show? Oh, right. You haven’t been at our house when Jack’s, The Daily Show or The Colbert Report comes on. Allow me to illuminate the significance:

1.Jack’s Big Music Show is a tot- and parent-favorite in this house.
2.Also, this is what it’s like trying to watch TV when Stewart or Colbert is on**:

My expectations are so high at this point, there is no way for the episode to live up to them. I only hope the tot likes it.

This season has been disappointing, for those of you who care. It’s as if the writers are too bogged down by plot and children’s issues. Last year Mary strode in with a stripy seed she named Arthur, a cool Daddio flower, who then grew up and bloomed to play jazz in the clubhouse, and the characters just rolled with it.

In the better episodes, the characters live in a world of magic, a place where a character would not come in with a didactic spiel on plant cycles and loving all creatures (or some similar life lesson). They already acted accordingly, leaving the writers room in the 22-minute session to expound on the “What if?” What if a seed you found only grew when music was played? What would happen then?

And this is the case with almost every episode from last season. This season. Meh. Not quite so much with the magic. I see why it’s important to demonstrate to kids that being honest and saying you’re sorry when you break your friend’s dulcimer is important, but sheesh. There are enough of those shows on TV already. This show is supposed to be about the music.

Maybe the second season will grow on me. Maybe tomorrow’s show will be good.

*The synopsis, if you’re feeling lazy: in this episode, Gertrude the Groundhog is overwhelmed by the crowds waiting to see if she’ll see her shadow or not.

**Edited to add: This picture is from a year ago. We don’t actually let her watch those two shows nowadays, as much as she absolutely wants to (which is a lot). I mean, I’m not looking for, um, more opportunities to practice parenting in the language department. And yes, I do think “crap” and “bitch” are too grown up of words for my child to use at this time. Come second grade, we’ll revisit the issue.

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