Shhhhhhh! I am trying to watch a movie!

Idaho Film Festival.....

see you Monday!

where's my popcorn?



http://www.idahofilmfestival.com/2006festival/index.htm

Willful and Purposeful Neglect

I am guilty. I confess!

I recently set up my email to automatically spell check any outgoing mail. I thought that it would make me sound and look a bunch smarter if my communications were impeccable. Granted, I will use it if I am talking to a future employer or the POTUS but in all honesty, it runs through each of my "chattin' up a friend" emails and I hit ignore. I *like* using lower case "i" when speaking about myself and it saves time to leave out the ' in typing contractions. I try very hard to remember to stop long enough to capitalize the beginning of my sentences even though it adds a key stroke I would rather not make. I realize I am quirky though, I think nothing of ending each rambling thought with "..." yet that adds two extra key strokes. Perhaps I need to rethink this and stop using periods altogether i am a busy woman after all...

Timeline...

0 to 20 ~ Exhumation

21 to 200 ~ Grave Robbing

201 to Ten Billion Freakin Whatever ~ Archeology

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20060920/sc_nm/ethiopia_fossil_dc

It's That Time of Year Again!

I love independent film! Don't you? Check it out, buy your tickets and I will meet you afterward for a beer!

http://www.idahofilmfestival.com/

The Legend of Screaming Mommy Toy

More times than I can count people have asked me how on earth I came up with the name of the blog. And so today I will tell the story...

Two years ago, right around Halloween time my then 2 year old wanted to get a hamburger from Sonic. As all places do, they put a toy in her meal. Being Halloween it was a small barbie-like doll in a long spooky dress looking sorta like Morticia Adams on acid. She pulled it out of the bag on the way home and started playing with it. Then she squeezed the doll's stomach... suddenly (well suddenly for a 2 year old) the dolls eyes light up red and it lets out this horribly loud scream which was then followed by an equal if not louder scream of sheer terror from my baby girl and the doll was thrown across the car. She was so shaken I had to stop the car and hold her for a few minutes before she calmed down enough to be put back in her car seat and taken home.

Fast forward a couple weeks I had been out shopping with the girls and decided to pick up chicken and burgers to take home for lunch. When the baby saw me turn into Sonic she began screaming and crying "NO SCREAMING MOMMY TOY NO NO NO NO!" She cried all the way through the drive thru and wouldn't touch her food until I had inspected the bag for any signs of the offending toy. It took her months to calm down enough that she wouldn't get freaked at the mention of Sonic. Poor thing.

Of course, as all families do, once she regained her sense of humor over it (she's young and resilient) we began making references to silly toys we would see at Halloween and teasing her mercilessly... last year she came running up to me at the store with the doll you see on the front page of my blog and said, "Look! It's the ugliest screaming mommy toy I have ever seen!" squeezed its stomach and laughed hysterically... Totally healed from her early childhood trama.

She giggles everytime she sees my blog. She coyly crawls up into my lap and asks me to tell her the story about her and the screaming mommy toy. Kids love to hear stories about themselves and I have to admit that I love telling her about it and I smile everyday that I see it too.

"Symbolism in Poetry and Personal Translation" or....

"do you wanna play a game"? Perhaps game is too strong a word and will cause people like B.A. to run and hide. What I want you to do is read this poem. Then answer these following questions:

1) If "the woods" is a symbol for something in your life you *want* to do, *what is it?

a. this week it would be...
b. this year it will be...
c. your life it is...

2) If "promises to keep, and miles to go" are symbols for something in your life that is keeping you back from "the woods". What is it/are they?

*if you find them too personal, answer anonymously here otherwise....i look forward to reading your blogs...you.know.who.you.are. If you choose to accept this challenge please feel free to post a link in the comment area here back to your blog/answers. btw, I don't expect everyone to soul search...for instance "anything but laundry" would most likely be 2 out of 3 of my answers here...good luck and have fun! Perhaps it would be fun for you to find a poem you find similarly facinating as I do this one and challenge others yet again???


Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.


My little horse must think it's queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.


He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep

Robert Frost

Lions And Tigers And Bears......

OH MY!
never let it be said that my children wait until the last minute to decide about Halloween!

Today Is Where Your Book Begins.....

sometimes music reaches a place which isn't touched anyway else, hence the draw of music I suppose... The sun is up, the day begun, where do you wanna go today?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQUAbuMbiTg

Nothing Says "Happiness" More Than

A brand new red colander




And brushed stainless steel silverware with polka dots!

One More Post About the Bird

He made his way to his new home and has sent a picture of himself resettled with his brand new friend (she looks to be a blonde....well okay she's got a yellow head) and looks mighty attractive... Bubbie is gazing into her eye as she looks off aloofly, playing hard to get I suppose.

Bye Bye Birdie

Several years ago my daughter begged us for a pet. She ended up with a bird whom she quickly fell inlove with and babied. Then as so many kids do she fell back out of love with him and he fell into a slow descent into being a second thought. We had to remind her to play with him, feed him, water him.....everything.

My daughter left us to live with her father in Utah not long ago. Bubbie (the bird) remained behind. Bubbie probably loves me more than anyone in this house and that is because I talk to him. But the truth is, I HATE BIRDS! They scare me. They flap in my face. I just know they want to peck my eyes out. So we have found someone who wants a pet. Someone who will take him out and play with him, love him.

Suddenly I am all weepy over this stupid bird. Its just one more piece of my beautiful daughter that is leaving me. I miss so much about her. Her smell, the sound of her foots steps as she would run upstairs to her room after school. Her laughter. I loved watching her run cross country....gawd she is awesome. And now I think I might even miss her bird. I won't miss the mess, I won't miss the racket he can make, but maybe its the picture I have in my mind's eye, of a little(er) girl coming home from the pet store with this gray and white bird in a brown paper bag, all excited to tell me how he had picked her! That she held out her finger and all the little birds scattered except this one who promptly hopped up on her finger and tottled up her arm claiming her as his own. Thats it! I miss my little girl. I still hate birds.

Tuesday Morning ~ Melissa Etheridge

10:03 on a Tuesday morningin
the fall of an American dream
a man is doing what he knows is right
on flight 93

Loved his mom and he loved his dad
loved his home and he loved his man
but on that bloody Tuesday morning
he died and American

[chorus]
Now you cannot change this
You can't erase this
You can't pretend this is not the truth

Even though he could not marry
Or teach your children in our schools
Because who he wants to love
Is breaking your God's rules

He stood up on a Tuesday Morning
In the terror he was brave
And he made his choice and without a doubt
A hundred lives he must have saved

[chorus]

And the things you might take for granted
Your inalienable rights
Some might choose to deny him
Even though he gave his life
Can you live with yourself in the land of the free
And make him less of a hero than the other three
Well it might begin to change ya
In a field in Pennsylvania

[chorus]

Stand up America
Hear the bell now as it tolls
Wake up America
It's Tuesday Morning
Let's roll

Lime Green waiting for stencil inspiration...

Arts in the Park

My friend C and I spent the day in the park. We sat at the Gene Harris band shell and listened to Rebecca Scott.



Here is me enjoying RS



Here is this little guy next to us who was also enjoying RS



Here is C with her hands full of happiness! Mine was raspberry cheesecake! Yum!



Here is evil lady making an Elephant Ear and forcing me and C to eat it.



Here is C with yet another arm load of happiness. This one contains enough calories to feed the Idaho Steelheads clear into overtime.



And this just struck my funnybone.



All and all it was a fun day. And I bought this little funky doodad for my hair. Its a little rainbow colored twisty metal thingy.

I hope your Saturday was as fun!

I See an Old Chair and I Want to Paint it Black

So I did. Actually I am in process of putting a second coat on it. This used to me my grandmothers rocking chair. She used it to rock all her grandbabies in it. Everyone I tell this to says "Ooooh its it Shaker or blah blah, or solid Oak?" I shake my head and tell them its solid Sears and roebuck. Thats why I laugh hysterically at anyone suggesting that I strip it and sand it and varnish it natural. I am not sure there is a "natural" under there.

When my grandmother died I got the chair and it was factory painted in a blah brown with gold trim. During my arts and crafty era (moment) I decided to put on of the faux crackle finishes on it. In white/beige. It turned out like most of my craft attempts. Unsatisfying. My muse left me soon after that probably thinking it was a lost cause.

With all the changes going on in my life at the moment and the fact that I no long have babies of my own to rock in this chair I began thinking of it in a new way. Decided I wanted something that said "This is my chair now". After several suggestions from friends who know color way better than me I decided to go with black. I am letting the crackle finish show through a little bit and I am really digging the way it is turning out. When I move into my place my black chair will come with me as a symbol of changes throughout ones life I think.

Just wait though. I am also refinishing a 5 drawer dresser for my 4 year old. The same friend who suggested black for my rocker suggested white for the dresser. Won't she be shocked when she sees the light lime green I have chosen instead... eeek! I'm sure my muse is packing her bags right now.

Phace Your Phobias!

I believe I have actually been beset with a brand new phobia. I have had it for as long as I can remember. But today for some reason it has bothered me and I wanted to understand it better so I went here http://www.phobialist.com to start my research. But after quickly glancing through the lists I think my problem has not yet been diagnosed. So I shall name it! I suffer from:

"Iknowidontrememberwhatitgoestoandihaventuseditinyearsbutwhatifineeditonedayophobia"



These are my keys that I carry with me everyday. When they are in the ignition and I go over a bump they swing back and forth hitting everything they can and call attention to themselves. They make a unsightly bulge in my pocket and sometime don't even fit completely inside the pocket. People have asked me, what are all those keys for? And I shrug my shoulders and tell them I don't know. They think I am crazy. I think they may be right! I have "Iknowidontrememberwhatitgoestoandihaventuseditinyearsbutwhatifineeditonedayophobia". Perhaps I will make the medical books?

Today I want to take the first steps in healing. I will admit to just how many I REALLY need and name the number of the left overs.

This one: Key to the garage


This one: Key to my house


This one: Key to my car


This one: Key to a friends house


This one: Key to remembering not to lose one's temper (long story, first divorce, ex being unbearable, I got angry and slammed the door. Key was in the lock and this one was flung into the door jamb. It used to unlock my mother's house.


This one: Daughter made it for my key ring and is a must to keep.



Okay so that leaves me with exactly 12 keys I have no use for. Dear heavens above it is worse than I thought. Just thinking about taking them off makes me break into a cold sweat.

Who's Nina and Where Did She Go?

Once upon a time there was a very young girl who woke up one morning and announced that her name was really Nina and that she expected everyone to call her that. To this day no one in my family knows where Nina came from. I have searched my heart, my mind, my psyche to no avail. Nina was just there and made herself known one day.

My family acquiesced and called me Nina. I don't really know for how long but I remember that when they would call me that it didn't feel as if I were playing a game. It felt as if I really was Nina. Then one day long after Nina came she just disappeared and I became Michelle again. Nina was forgotten and life went on for decades.

Recently, after some major introspection I ran across the story of Nina. And suddenly found her dancing in the moonlight laughing as does a little girl who has been hiding from her parents. We met again. Nina full of joy, Michelle full of fear. In the same roles we were in decades earlier. Though it seems Nina is more joyful and I am just more tired.

I am glad to have her back. She lightens my step and directs my muse. She reminds me of all that is good in life. She reminds me to dance in the moonlight. I am thinking about legally adding her to my name. Giving her a bigger voice in the world which she has lived so silently for years. A few close friends have already started calling me Nina and you know what? It still doesn't feel like I am playing a game. Nina is home. Welcome home Nina.