Favorite Trees

I have almost always had a favorite tree. I am not sure why, but at some point I grew an affinity for a tree (that has since been cut down) right outside my bedroom window. I would take pictures of it as it changed through out the seasons. I would look at it and think about whether I should date the skater boy with the brown hair or the one with the red. I would listen to Love Phones on Z100 and think about what I would do if I were in THAT situation. I would always look at it before shutting my blinds to change out of my towel. I really must have looked at it every day.

I loved that tree and watched it intently. The most exciting day for that tree was when the rain came down so fast one frigid winter evening that it froze right on the branches and weighed them down so they stretched soo far and wide, it looked like they would just crack. But they didn't. I am sure the structure of the tree changed, but it did not crack. Totally impressed. I picked a good tree to like.

I have some new trees that I like. While walking to school, Calvin and I walk past what has been one of my favorite trees in the neighborhood even before we owned this house we are in. We were mere renters. I didn't know this tree would become the one (thinking about it now, it is really more of a bush). But I do really like this tree.

It has been there the whole time (what an exact measurement). I don't think anyone can say the same for much else.

My son has made note of my tree love and remembered that I now have 2 favorite trees to note. There is a small weeping willow a few houses down that we walk past. I did mention one time that it was a favorite (especially in the fall) and he responded with, "Now you have 2 favorite trees!"

My realization: He is keeping track and adding 1+1 correctly. Amazing.

A Driver's Driver

We drive a lot in NJ. I think about it a lot and there are such specific things I look at as I drive to those routine places we always go: to grandma's, to the beach, to and from our home, and of course grocery shopping.

I love looking under the Rte 27 bridge in Highland Park which I wrote about previously here.

But I also have these other things. Like this one sign on Plainfield Ave in Edison is in front of an older looking Victorian house. It is a picture of an old time film camera for talkies and it has a name underneath, but there is nothing that looks like any movie would be shot, produced, edited, or even viewed in the structure it is in front of. I always wonder whether someone has a failed videography business inside. Or maybe it is booming and the owner is just thrifty.

I also look at the pedestrian bridge spanning Rte 18 near St. Thomas the Apostle church. My eyes always follow it and sometimes I get distracted and follow it up so much that I forget I am on the road. I always use this bridge as the bridge I think about when I think of people throwing things off of bridges at cars (horrible thought, but totally the bridge that pops into view when it comes up). I also think about the handful of times I crossed it (or maybe just once), and I can't really remember what the reason was (solidifying that it was probably just one occurrence just to see if I could get across). In NJ these bridges always interest me, because I wonder, since everyone is in cars, who uses these things? I guess, secretly, I am always trying to catch a glimpse of someone pitter pattering across.

Towel Hour

My favorite hour, when the children are clean and supple. I love them from the sudsy tub, to being rinsed and extracted. And then wiping the droplets of water off of their skin with a soft, filled with fabric softener, towel and then smooching where I just wiped.

Ooo- I love it.

This is when I think most intensely about eating my children. Like ripe strawberries just pulled out from under the stream of water from the kitchen sink. After rolling around in the colander, getting perfectly washed for consumption. Yum.

This "hour," donned by my half rhyming, Dickensonian sisters as towel hour, is the most precious hour of the day. We come downstairs and I douse them with hugs and sometimes tickles. Calvin streaks across the living room to jump on Pete's back or to make Harrison laugh. Smiles are tossed across the room, along with bouncy balls sometimes. We finish up with some sweet smelling lotion and then soft, cotton clothing to snuggle them into sweet dreaming.

I love this time.

Baggin' Chicks

Today at the market a boy of about 10 years walked passed the chick-box (the one that the duck was also in last week) and purchased two. The salesman put the chicks into a bag like a couple of apples and there were 2 little holes on the sides of the bag, for breathing I guess, and the boy scooted along.

Totally normal. Nothing to it.

I can see the text from his mom(all Turks have cell phones - I am convinced):
"Hey Alper! Pick up some chicks from the market on your way home from school today. Don't stop to buy cherries or grapes or strawberries. Just the chicks. And make sure they are the yellow ones. Those white ones are just not right. No ducks this time either."

Okay - maybe that is long for a text message, but it sounds accurate.

Simple Questions

Why in a secular country is there a religion class in the schools?

I am currently proctoring a Religion exam in my school. Yes, it is a private school. But it is a national school, which means we follow national standards - Religion Class.

One boy is absent from the exam. He is Jewish. No religion class for him.

Interesting definition of secular.

Tech Buzz

When it comes to nursing, as babies grow - their attention span shrinks. It is hard keeping H-man on the boob for more than a few minutes. Good thing solids have come on the scene.

But I have devised a technological advancement that will rock the world -- mini, personalized, baby DVD players that fit right under the mother's arm! He totally would stay focused and get the hydration job done if he was watching a little Elmo or "baby TV" during the suckling. It would most definitely do away with the Calvin-induced head turning.

Sleepless in Istanbul

Did I never think I would see the day my son started pre-school? Have I been in denial that time passes all this time?

Hobbes is growing at a rapid pace and it seems to mean more than when T. Cal did. I think it is because I learned that they never get smaller after watching T. Cal. And I barely got to look at Harrison the past few weeks since he has been attached to the boob or being smothered by his "loving" brother.

9am tomorrow my little baby will be a big boy (as close to a man as any male gets). We have a few more hours. Can't I just stay up and savor them?

I wonder if my dad will have that shrink-back-machine up and running by the time we get back in June. I have been trying the one I made here, but it doesn't seem to work right. T. Cal just keeps getting bigger.