Labor Day and Hurricane News

So Hurricane Gustav didn't hit New Orleans directly....that's good. Watching the news tonight, I heard several people say that New Orleans had "dodged a bullet." That's a metaphor I've always disliked, mostly because, here in Chicago, when one person dodges a bullet, it seems like someone else is right there to get hurt (or killed) in that person's place. So I was interested in hearing how the news folks talked about the areas that are feeling the worst of the storm. While I was thinking about this, Elliot and I came across a very relevant story from The Onion :


Hurricane Bound For Texas Slowed By Large Land Mass To The South

Elliot was tickled by this story because of his friendships with people from Mexico (his best friend, Atzin, is Latino, as are most of his teachers); he is appalled by how little most adults (never mind other kids) know about Mexican culture and geography. (I suppose I'm sometimes included there....) It's fun to watch or read The Onion with Elliot because he *really* gets satire, but I also sort of wish that he wasn't so completely familiar with the many wrongheaded and hurtful U.S. blind spots that provide them with their material.

Now onto a more pleasant subject: Labor Day. Labor Day is one of my favorite holidays--I do generally try to relax, because the day *after* Labor Day usually marks the beginning of my semester. Today I ended up doing yard work for about 90 minutes, so it wasn't all rest. Once evening rolled around and there was shade on our sidewalk, all four of us (plus Anaya, our eight-year-old nextdoor neighbor, and her mother) headed out to make our annual sidewalk chalk mural honoring workers. I'm too tired right now to post the pictures we took after we were done drawing--but I can say that, in the nine years we've been doing these murals, this one is one of our best. Some of the workers we depicted include a farmer, chef, street juggler, roofer, home health aide, botanist, and sales associate. (We did the sales associate because just as we were almost done with our drawings, a tired but cheerful woman came walking down our block. I told her what we were doing, and she said that she was just getting off her shift as a sales associate at American Girl Place. I told her we'd include her in the drawing--she probably thought I was nuts, but I kept my word. If she walks down our block on her way to work tomorrow, she'll see herself!)

Our Labor Day mural is one of our family's happiest (and simplest) traditions. More than taking them to a parade or barbecue (not that there's anything wrong with those--we went to a barbecue today), I think this tradition helps them understand what Labor Day is for, why it matters.

Pencil-packin' girl

Even before Astrid turned three, she was using drawing tools to help her work out her feelings and let us know what was on her mind. This past spring, though, when she was earnestly practicing her reading skills, she pretty much stopped drawing and painting. It was a strange time for us, because we just didn't have as many clues about what she was thinking. She is a very articulate kid, but is sometimes indirect in her communications about the things that matter the most to her. (Diplomatic, ain't I?)

Now that her reading is coming along more quickly, Astrid has started drawing and painting again. She has spent at least a few minutes every day this summer (or at least it seems that way) sketching what she sees and thinks about: anatomically detailed animals in motion, incongruous scenes she pictures in her mind (like me with a big beard....), Pokemon creatures she has invented. She has also been hungrily studying the work of other artists in some art history textbooks I brought home from work. Over the past couple of weeks, she has produced her own painted version of Hokusai's "Great Wave" woodcut, as well as some intriguing interpretations of portraits. I like the angle of her Frida Kahlo portrait; the way she shows a heartily-built Kahlo looking slightly to the side makes me think of Botero. (Her drawings look a bit faint on the computer screen--sorry.)

Astrid had seen the Mona Lisa before, but she didn't show interest in doing a version until I mentioned that many people call this painting "La Gioconda," or "The Laughing Woman." Then Astrid got a smile on her own face and worked furiously for two minutes (before running off to watch Arthur on PBS with her brother). We're all happy that she's drawing again.

Du plane, du plane!

I spent three hours this morning writing a kickass chapter proposal for a collection of essays on undergraduate General Education reform--I get mighty excited about this stuff, and I was very happy with my work. I shut down my computer to go home from the coffee shop, as the lunch crowd was coming in and I didn't want to keep anyone from sitting down to eat. When I got home and tried to email the file to the editors.....well, let's just say it was not there. I searched my computer, and later my husband searched the whole thing, too, and folks, it was not there.

Tomorrow morning I'll be trying to remember what I wrote so that I can reconstruct it. I couldn't face it today. I've lost big chunks of writing before--twelve years ago, I lost a third of a textbook I was helping to write!--but for some reason, losing those 1200 words hit me really hard. I've been out of it all day. I finally started doing some aggressive clutter reduction in the dining room and then in my "work room"--an unheated tandem bedroom that's more of a dumping ground than a workspace. I made only the tiniest dent in the overwhelming mess, but I have to say that it helped me feel better.

Going through a very tall pile of Astrid's artwork (she's *prolific*), deciding what to save and what to toss, was fun. I came across a picture that she made just a couple of weeks ago at one of Elliot's baseball games. Astrid generally brings her sketch book with her; when she's not playing with other younger siblings or begging me to take her to the playground, she sits by herself and draws. I do my best to let her work without interruption, and then I invite her to tell me something about what she's done. Here's what she told me about this picture: It's Egypt, as we can see from the pyramids and the Sphinx and hippo in the middle. Now, flying overhead is a pilot who believes that the Sphinx is alive, and that s/he and the hippo must be very thirsty there in the Egyptian desert. As the caption at the bottom of the picture explains, "Du plane jopt joosis" ("The plane dropped juices"). According to Astrid, the plane also dropped a case of Diet Coke, which the hippo is excited to drink; he doesn't know, however, that the bottles have been badly shaken and will make a big mess when they are opened.

Just looking at this picture makes me feel good.

Tulips, real and paper

Here's a reflection-filled shot of the tulip Elliot made out of a coffee filter on Sunday. The picture shows bits of our living room (including the radiator that Astrid and Elliot sit on all winter), my silhouette, our porch swing and the plastic table we use for outdoor art projects, the houses across the street, and our Mazda 5. There's also a pastelly butterfly to the left of the tulip--I think it's one of Astrid's.

Of course, as nice as Elliot's flower is, our *real* tulips are the stars this week. Elliot and I (with some help from Astrid) planted about 250 assorted bulbs in October; so far, we've enjoyed yellow and purple crocuses, big and small narcissi, dark blue hyacinths (my favorite!), and now this explosion of tulips. We're still looking forward to purple allium.

Elliot has *another* baseball game this evening. We'd all be excited, except that it's currently about 45 degrees out, and will probably be more like 40 by game time. Brrrrr. It's weird to walk past beautiful spring flowers when we're wearing winter coats.

Finally, here's the picture Astrid took last weekend from our picture window. I like the angles in this shot.

Window Garden

When Elliot was much littler--actually, before Astrid was born--he and I used to put up seasonal displays in our living room's picture window: autumn leaves, paper snowflakes, and his favorite, the springtime garden. He started asking me a couple of weeks ago if we could do it this year; I could understand why, as we had such a long and miserable winter that the springtime has really seemed like a time to celebrate. But I was so busy with other things--work, starting up my own sewing again, and most recently, helping with the round of baseball-related rituals (Elliot's season started April 19, and he's already played four games!)--that I didn't see the window garden happening this year.

This morning, though, Astrid wanted to make some art, so I got out a little stack of Mellitta coffee filters, our liquid watercolor paints, some crayons, and eyedroppers, and we made lovely butterflies for the window. Elliot joined us about a half hour into our work--today was the last day of religious education (what we used to call CCD), and his class got out early, so he had time to play around with us before he had baseball practice--and he suggested that our butterflies really need some flowers to visit. Before we knew it, we had about ten butterflies, grass, and four different kinds of flowers to put up in the window. While Elliot was playing ball, Astrid and I taped everything up.

Afterwards, she and I walked to the supermarket to get $50 worth of fruit and vegetables for her school. We both had our backpacks (hers is very small) and two nylon shopping bags; she didn't fuss once on the five-block walk home, and, as she emphasized, she "never put her side of the bag down, even though it was really heavy." (This picture, incidentally, is a charming shot of Astrid when she was about 19 months old--she was skinny, REALLY fussy, and almost unbearably cute, even when filthy with ice cream, as she was during much of the block party at which this photo was taken. Now, she's no longer so skinny, she's somewhat less fussy, but still quite cute.)

I digress. Back to what I want to say: I love midday on Sundays. The day feels nice and long when it's 12 or 1. Around 3, though, I start to get anxious, because there's just so much to get done, and I've usually already tired myself out doing what I felt like doing. Tonight I made a dinner that was way too ambitious: chicken kabobs with lots of vegetables, rice, and cinnamon-squash muffins. While the chicken was marinating, I took Elliot to Old Navy to choose a bunch of t-shirts (he is sad because he has outgrown many of his favorite ones; he brightened when he saw that we were buying his new shirts in the men's department....I can't say I was as excited....). We enjoyed analyzing Wilco songs in the car. Then, when we were home, he was famished and I was absolutely hustling to get dinner together....while doing laundry and getting the kids' lunches made for Monday. By the time we were done eating and cleaning up, I was grouchy, grouchy.

The other day I put the memory card for our camera somewhere in my backpack, and I haven't found it yet. Once it resurfaces, I'll have pictures to post. I made four peasant blouses for Astrid this week, finished a slinky-knit top I started for myself back in December, and completely redid a black, pebbled-crepe bias-cut skirt that was way too big for me. Both the top and skirt look great. It's been a very happy week for sewing.

Collage in progress

Here are two details from my collage-in-progress, a big (36"x24") canvas incorporating image mosaic, traditional collage composition (using paper and fabric), and acrylic paint (click on the images to see bigger versions). The collage shows tired men in a medical office waiting room (not pictured here), women worrying (together and alone), and other images connected to the U.S. crisis in health coverage. My main sources of imagery for the large figures are depression-era photos from the WPA and U.S. health service agencies, and for the mosaic components I am using tiny bits of posters from countries that have socialized healthcare. The big idea is that, in spite of what Republicans and too many Democrats say, socialized health sounds mighty fine (sounds like a human right, even!) to the millions of people in the U.S. whose access to doctors, nurses, hospitals, and medicines is criminally, unconscionably limited by a system tilted toward profit for insurance companies. End of speech. (But, hey, Obama, please listen up! I sure want you to win--*and* I want you to do something big and responsible about the healthcare mess we're living in. Please, no halfway measures.)

The photo below shows my new use for my mini-muffin tin--as a sorting tray for image mosaic pieces (Elliot's collage-in-progress is underneath everything). I had this idea a couple of years ago that I'd start making mini-muffins at dinner time (instead of regular-sized muffins) because they bake faster. But they don't bake all that well, at least in our oven, and they aren't as satisfying as a nice big muffin that you can slice in half and butter. (We really like muffins with dinner at our house. I make them probably twice a week, often with Bisquick, but sometimes from scratch. I usually dump a baby-food jar of squash, carrots, prunes, or some other vitamin and fiber-rich goop into the bowl. The whole process, from light-bulb-over-Mom's-head to dinner table, takes less than 25 minutes, and we often have enough left over for breakfast the next morning.)

This is one area in which I truly do feel like one of those cookin', nursin', husband-pleasin' women I read about in my mother's early-1970's copy of La Leche League's cookbook Mother's in the Kitchen. (I love, love, love that old cookbook. I especially like reading the lengthy section on the importance of including organ meats in the family diet, as well as the zillion and one uses listed for creamy canned soups. No, I don't make those recipes, but I have *very* happy memories of eating that stuff--especially the recipe for "Glory-Fried Chicken." Thanks, Mom!) Though I never attended an LLL meeting when I was a nursing mother (all the meetings were while I was at work....what's up with that?), I can't tell you how many I attended as a kid (my mom was an LLL group leader in Denver). Between two kids, I spent five and a half lovely years as a nursing mother. Hurray for the lessons of La Leche League!

The biggest shopping day of the year

I've been listening to the traffic reports on our NPR station today, the day after Thanksgiving; instead of giving expressway times (something I barely pay attention to, even when I'm driving, because I don't take the highway to work....ha ha ha....life is good), the announcer has been reporting on how many parking spaces are available at the major shopping centers. My office is smack dab in between two shopping destinations--Woodfield Mall and IKEA in Schaumburg--so I was feeling very, very thankful that I didn't have to go to work today. (In case you are curious, at 4 p.m. today, the Woodfield lots were 95% full, while IKEA was over 50% full--I bet shoppers are sneaking their gas-guzzling SUVs into the lot right outside my office....). There are many stores in my area that I won't go to between about November 15 and January 3, at least not unless it's a weekday morning. Over the past ten years, some of my most miserable driving/shopping experiences have been in the parking lot of Whole Foods on *any* day in that six-week spread, so that's one place I just plain avoid.

The four of us stayed home, and, in an attempt to fend off another day of nonstop TV watching, I got Elliot and Astrid going on an art project by about 9:30 today. Astrid was a fairly easy sell (though she didn't last long), while Elliot was, well, in a mopey tweeny space. As is often the case, though, Elliot came around and worked for a long time. Astrid, to my happy astonishment, didn't demand that we all stop working when she was bored. Instead, she asked me to get out her tea set, and she had a tea party with her baby dolls (Daisy, Lucy, and the two Shellyenias). Then, as if she wanted me to faint on the floor, she quietly put all of her china tea set back into the box when she was done and put it back onto its shelf in the games cabinet. I *knew* that someday she'd show the effects of her two years in a Montessori classroom! (Just kidding--she gets a ton out of Montessori.)

During our morning work time, we focused on printmaking. Astrid produces the images she wants to print much more quickly than I can carve them; fortunately, Elliot has become more independent (we have new carving tools that take less force, and, at my insistence, he wears big safety goggles), so most of the help I give him is verbal rather than hands-on. I also bought an additional brayer so that we aren't standing around waiting for someone to finish, or, worse, arguing and fussing as the process of printing everyone's images takes longer and longer.

A few days ago, Astrid drew a wonderful rubber block of a sculpture display in "a *real* museum--not a children's museum." I can't recall if she's been to the Art Institute with her class--I haven't taken her since she was in a stroller--so I was interested to find out what she saw as the difference between "real" and "children's" museums. What stands out for her is that, in a real museum, you can't run around; it's a place for using your eyes and ears, she says, rather than your hands. I asked her if one could use one's nose in a museum, and she said yes--an answer that warmed my heart, as I am an art smeller from way back. (This is true--I am regularly approached by security guards who see me sniffing the paintings and sculpture.)

Elliot's prints focused today on Pokemon characters. Some of them came out very well, but the one he tried to do on a linoleum block really frustrated him--I think it was well carved, but he just couldn't get it to print the way he wanted it to. We spent time talking about which kinds of Pokemon figures would make good models for block printed images; he gravitates toward the Pokemon cards with airbrushed, very 3-D looking creatures, but I told him I thought he might be very dissatisfied with how he could render them in a print. He was very reasonable about the issue--much more than he might have been a year ago. He agreed with me that a couple of his favorites might be too challenging; the one he chose was also potentially difficult, but he showed me how he would simplify the image so that he could get the idea of it across without worrying too much about the details.

I was finally able to finish carving, test, and then partially recarve the linoleum block I've been working on for Christmas cards. The figures in the image are partly based on illustrations from 1930s arithmetic textbooks. I took a picture of the block before I carved it, because my husband thought it was unlikely that I'd be able to get all the detail into the carved version (I'm a pretty inexperienced printmaker), and I wanted to be able to save something from my work, in case it was a disaster. Happily, it came out pretty much as I had hoped it would. My husband was impressed, which always makes me happy.


After printmaking, the children and I took a fussy little walk around the block (Elliot wanted to be napping, or, in any case, not walking). It was cold and exhilarating, and even Elliot felt pretty cheerful when we returned. Astrid wanted to make a sock puppet (I ended up doing 90% of it, because she was nervous about using a sewing needle). Then, feeling like I'd done my best to keep the TV off, I let them go downstairs to watch Pokemon episodes on YouTube. Then I got to sew a bit....I finished two pairs of khaki pants for Elliot and two for Astrid, and then moved onto Christmas presents....I'll show a picture, but I'm not saying yet what they are.