Men-U

Z made this menu for when the Batties came to dinner, "So we can pretend to be nice people who do that sort of thing."

Sorry it's wrinkled! I fished it out of the trash. Z is eight years old. 

Z Draws Babe Ruth

Guest artist Big Z, a.k.a. Zanimal, a.k.a. my daughter, did this progressive sketch study of the famous baseball player Babe Ruth:

My favorite is middle, third row, because it looks like a monkey. The one underneath looks like Scott Walker.

13 Types of Floss

It was 6:50 AM. The school bus comes at 6:55, so I knocked on the bathroom door to get Z,

"Time to go!"

She came out and started putting her socks on.

"Do you know we have thirteen types of floss?" she said. "I wonder how we bought all those flosses?"

"Well, when floss is on the list, I buy it," I said.

"You really need to take floss off the list! We have thirteen different flosses!" I didn't really look at her closely until I gave her her glasses to put on.

"Why is your hair all matted? What were you doing in there? Go brush your hair!"

She went back into the bathroom, but then I realized the bus waits for no one.

"Never mind! Come put your snow pants on! The bus is coming!"

She made it to the bus on time.

If you see my eight year old daughter today, yes, her hair is matted on one side, yes, her teeth are unbrushed, and yes, she will be smiling with a smug sense of accomplishment, because she did carefully count and organize all of the flosses in our house this morning:

Thirteen different types. I don't think she flossed her teeth.

What to do when you are 8

I'm fascinated by the writings of my daughter. I find them all over the house. She must write a lot! The writings are such an interesting window into her brain. Today I found a short story about an elephant, the beginnings of a novel about someone whose parents died, and a tiny book about the size of a quarter with paper cut out in interesting designs. And this list (which I think is not too terribly personal):

I appreciate number 11. She really did clean the litter box. Number 8 is supposed to be "Lift Heavy Things" and number 14 is "juggle". Wherever it says, "1 mille" or "1 mile" that means to walk/ run a mile. I believe she achieved all of the things on the list, except for "walk on front hands."

Who does art while in the toilet?

My daughter, that's who. She has a passion that cannot be quelled. She is an art explosion! Everywhere she goes, she leaves a trail, remnants of creativity. She's radioactive! She shoots off bits of trash wherever she goes!

School starts Tuesday. 

Breaking News!

It just warmed up.

We inexplicably don't have school here today, and my daughter has her friend over to play. As soon as she got here, my daughter and her friend went running in the fields. I made them wear long pants and sweaters, because it's only thirty-five degrees (f) out. It still feels so warm, though, by comparison, that they both came back with their sweaters tied around their wastes. It's hot out there, I guess! The creek is melted, and they were disappointed that I didn't let them go wading in it- because, you know, it's thirty-five (I think that's one or two celsius). So warm!

And I just realized-- what day is it? I just noticed that I left this reindeer out on the lawn. You know, from Christmas.

I'd better take him inside! The poor thing is going to burn up in this thirty-five degree weather. 

My Future Family Needs Cable Television

Walking out to feed the bunnies last night, Little Z and I had the following conversation:

Z, age 7: "Do we have to buy cable?"

Me: "No. We don't have cable. We've never had cable."

Z: "Well, if we don't pay for cable, where does the television come from?"

Me: "You just get an antenna, and the antenna catches it from the air. The TV is in the air, all around us." [Motioning towards the frozen air above us, it kind of freaked me out for a second, all of those TV waves.]

Z: "So, my future family could have an antenna. We don't have to pay for cable?"

Me: "Well, I guess the world could change. They could outlaw antennae by then. But you don't need cable, no. I don't think they'll outlaw antennae or anything."

Z: "That's what I thought! You don't have to pay for cable! I wish you could tell my future family that."

Me: "Well, that's kind of far in the future, isn't it? Can't you tell them?"

Z: "No! My future family! You know? For math camp? We have to figure out our expenses and stuff? For our future family?"

Me: "And they're making you get cable? You don't need cable! Cable is a luxury!"

Z: "That's what I told my teacher! But she says we have to have cable!"

We got back inside the house, where Bad Assed Husband was sitting on the couch.

Me: "They're making her get cable for her future family!"

BAH: "I know! What a rip! No one needs cable!"

Me: "That's what I was telling her!"

BAH [to Z] : "And they've got you working selling cell phones at the mall, with two kids at home! It doesn't pay to work, with a job like that! You should just stay home with the kids."

Z: "It's not at the mall, Dad. I'm just a cell phone salesperson."

BAH: "Not at the mall? Where are you selling cell phones, then?"

Z: "I don't know. It's just not at the mall."

BAH: "Well, still. You can't pay for two kids in daycare, with a job like that. What does your husband do, again?"

Z: "He's a librarian."

BAH: "Librarian... huh. He might make less money than you do. See which one of you makes the least money, and that person can quit their job and stay home with the kids. It doesn't pay to work, with two little kids at home. You save money taking care of them yourself, and then you get more time with them, too. And no cable! It's a waste of money."

Little Z, Age 7: "Okay."

My daughter just slipped me this note:

She's taken to writing notes lately. This must be my favorite a million times over.

The Second Grade Challenge

Today was the big day! It's been in the works for months. I read A Murder of Crows and Other Woes to Little Z's second grade class and...

I was so nervous before, honestly. But at the end the kids had all sorts of questions, and then it was time for them to go home and they were all like,

"My favorite drawing was the hoola hoops!"

"My favorite drawing was the mosquitos on the finger!"

"My favorite was the giraffes!"

etc.

Little Z (my publicist) seemed quite content. She pointed out details her classmates might have missed (i.e. the "tree" is really the leg of a giraffe who appears after the page turn). They all said they could see that she was the model for the drawings. And her teacher is an artist, it turns out! She's thinking of changing over from second grade teacher to art teacher. Now I want to see her art.

I had to keep quiet about the fact that some of their parents had already purchased the book for them for Christmas. At least three parents from Little Z's class came to my book signing last Friday and bought copies, sans children. Today, I was thinking, Good thing you like my book, because that's what you're getting for Christmas! But I kept myself from saying it out loud. I did hint that I thought I had seen Santa Claus buy a few copies.  [Little Z goes around the house lately saying, "All I want for Christmas is something other than my mom's new book. I mean, I like it, but something else would be nice."]

After school, I went to Selah Vie coffee and tea house to drop off some books. They put up this poster in the window:

They're nice people at Selah Vie. 

All in all, a good day. 

How to Cook a Turkey

By Little Z (age 7):

Click on Picture for Biggering

This was for a contest at our local supermarket. I'm not sure if this is really what they had in mind, but I'm glad she knows where turkeys come from. (They already have the heads and the feet cut off at the supermarket.)

Classifications of Animals

My daughter, Little Z, has decided to start a pet sitting service. However, she is not willing to sit with all pets, just some pets. She has compiled a list of acceptable and non-acceptable animals for her pet sitting service:

This has brought up some issues with people we know, one of whom (cousin Oliver) asks,  "Can you please ask Z where these types of animals would be placed on her list?"  And gives us this link. 

Little Z has this to say:

• those that belong to the Emperor, "Emperor? What's that?"
• embalmed ones, "Why would you want those taken care of?"
• those that are trained, "I would keep those that are trained."
• suckling pigs, "I'd take those. They're cute."
• mermaids, "I hate mermaids."
• fabulous ones, "fabulous what? like fabulous pets? Oh, yeah, I'd do that."
• stray dogs, "They're stray dogs that live on the street? Why would I want to take care of those? I guess I would."
• those included in the present classification, "I don't know what that means."
• those that tremble as if they were mad, "like, I don't get it."
• innumerable ones, "Yeah."
• those drawn with a very fine camelhair brush, "Yes."
• others,
• those that have just broken a flower vase, "Yes. Crazy ones I definitely take. And also neat ones."
• those that from a long way off look like flies. "Okay?"

Little Z is seven.

I Have Lice

Schoolwork comes home every Friday. Today a poster of Little Z's came home, one of those all about me I'm so special pieces that only work if you're fewer than nine years. Here I show you the top of the Z:

"What does that say?" I asked.

"It says, 'I have lice,' and look at the cute little lice I drew!"

"But you don't have lice!"

"No, I don't have lice, the Z has lice. The Z is a snake, and the snake has lice in his hair, see?"

"_______!"

"They're so cute, the little licies... What is a lice, anyway?"

My Personal Publicist Is Seven

A few weeks ago, as soon as I said I was writing a children's book, Little Z came up with a plan: I should write it and read it to her, make sure she likes it, and then read it to her class at school. If it plays well to her classmates, I can publish it. If not, I should rewrite it.

I did not necessarily entirely agree with this plan, but I knew I would end up going with it, because this is how she is. She is deaf to negativity. "Come upstairs and watch my play," she might say. "No," you might say. "Okay then," she will say back, "I'll see you upstairs in five minutes! And bring a kangaroo." That's just how she is.

Little Z is in second grade now. I ate lunch with her today at school. Heading down to the lunch room, two kids asked me whose grandma I was. Children are so sweet.

I ended up sitting between Little Z and a young man with a red mohawk (probably colored for the homecoming parade today). His teeth were a little too large for his head, having just grown in. Otherwise, he had the look and mannerisms of a personal banker.

"So, how's the book going?" he asked me, tilting his head and smiling. How does he know about the book? I wondered.

"Oh, fine. I wrote the text and now I'm working on the pictures."

"Are you going to read it to our class when you're done with it?"

"Um... sure. Yeah. It might be three or four weeks yet, before it's finished."

"Books take a long time to write," he said with a knowing nod. Clearly he had written several.

Birdie is waiting for her big debut.

I turned around to Little Z, who had just gotten a lunch lady with scissors to help her open her yogurt squirty thing .

"That boy asked me about my book," I said to her.

"Oh, yeah..." she blushed, "I may have mentioned it once or twice... or three... or four times."

The way she said it, I think she meant more like ten or twelve times.

I'm actually a little bit nervous. What if they don't like it?

Off Her Gourd

I grew special white pumpkins this year. Exotic and stuff. Then some animal ate all of the white pumpkins, except for one. Little Z asked if she could paint the one white pumpkin- because white takes color so well. I said sure. 

It was only later, when it was drying on the table, that I realized...

She painted the white pumpkin orange.

Art Show Highlight #1: Little Z is Better Than Me

I told Little Z that she could have one spot on my wall at the art show. The art show was three days.

The first day, she sold a mounted print of her collage, "Bunnies In Trouble (there's a wolf in the bushes)".


I explained to the people interested in it that the painting Little Z started with was painted by my grandmother, Ruth Porter. And then Little Z changed it in a computer program, adding bunnies swimming across a lake to get away from a wolf. (You have to look very closely to find the wolf, because he is a predator and he is hiding.) The man said he loved it.

"May I meet the artist?" he asked.

"Oh- no, I'm sorry! Her dad just took her home. It's her bedtime. She's six."

We ran into the parking lot to make sure they were really gone, but they were really gone. I wrapped it up for him. He payed me ten dollars for it. Then he went around and told everyone he met,

"I bought a piece from a six year old artist- and I love it!"

The next morning, Little Z didn't seem at all surprised to have sold a piece. It was like she expected it, almost.

So, then we had to find another piece to fill the spot for Saturday. Saturday, we put up this original drawing by Little Z:



I put it in a thrift store frame and marked it $10. Yet again, just after she left, a woman (another artist in the art show) purchased it. She said,

"I really like what she does with color."

One of the other art show kids was still there, and he tried to talk her out of buying it.

"The tummy's too big on that bird!" he said.

"Maybe she's pregnant," she said.

"Birds don't get pregnant! The lay eggs!" he was indignant. She bought it anyway!

I gave Little Z her ten dollars the next morning, and she said,

"I am a professional artist now."

I couldn't argue.

She found yet another piece to put up, a collage.

"This one was more difficult," she said. "I want you to charge $12 for this one."

Yet again, when she wasn't around, someone wanted to buy it... and then changed her mind. Thank goodness! Had she sold three pieces at the art show, she would have been insufferable. As it stands, she just feels lucky. Well, lucky, and like a "professional artist."

She bought a My Little Pony doll with her money.

XKCD Book Review (And bonus parenting fail!)

BAH bought the XKCD book- by accident, actually! It was in his cart and he forgot about it. So, we brought it on the plane to California last week. It's a great book to read on a plane, because it isn't electronic, and you can read a little bit at a time, in between entertaining the six-year-old little girl sitting next to you.

I gave it a five star review on Amazon, even though I honestly didn't quite understand all of the jokes. Reading XKCD is like being inside of someone else's head: thinking about technical difficulties at work while simultaneously wondering about random crap throughout the day, obsessing about your love life, wondering what the meaning of it all is, etc. Randall Munroe definitely has a unique take on things. I like this little trip inside his head. The book has the original XKCD comics that you will find at the web site, but it also has his comments on the reactions, emails, and behind the comic stories on some of them. One of my favorite comics was this one, which has perhaps the only swearing in the whole book:

I have had similar thoughts, myself, about being a teacher and a blogger. I even made this blog private for a few years. But then I decided, you know, what he said.

I finished the book on the plane, and Little Z asked me if she could read it.

"Sure!" I said, and handed it over.

She opened the book to that page with the comic above, and read out loud to the rest of the plane,

"FUCK. THAT. SHIT."

She's a good reader, my little girl.

The page numbering is really odd in the XKCD book, so I don't know how many pages it is (the page numbers only contain ones, zeros, and twos, and seem to go up way too quickly) but I think it's at least a hundred pages, and it just has that one page, that one page with the swearing! Murphy's Law was at work here.

I'm a really good mom. I swear! I mean, I don't swear, I just, um... Oh, never mind.






P.S. I just noticed: XKCD is a Choose Your Own Adventure Story today!

Follow Up Reports

* Since I did my post on the art of Mary Wright, other people have taken notice. The Ravenous Monster Horror site did an interview with her recently. Mary Wright told me privately that she does not believe her art belongs in this genre, but I have to disagree! I think she belongs there, and I think that's wonderful. Best quote from the interview [about Barbie]: "Barbie, the quintessential American icon of beauty and the unobtainable role model for almost every little girl in the country, myself included, is the perfect spring board for these glorified Day of the Dead-inspired skulls. The hours I spent staring at her as a child, dreaming of being like her someday. She did give me hours of happiness as a girl, along with a life-long subconscious feeling of inadequacy."
"One Day" by Mary Wright

* Remember that painting I did for the book cover? Well, the book came out today! It's called Mother of Darkness and it's by Christina McMullen. I haven't had a chance to read it yet, but I will be reviewing it here, once I have. She changed the colors in the painting to match the other two books in the series:

She gave me free copy of the book. Thank you! She also paid me for the work, but let me keep the original. She only wanted a digital copy. So now I can have my cake and eat it, too. The painting is hanging in my bathroom.

* And then there was that underwater portrait session. Remember that? I did actually show up. I dieted for the entire two weeks and lost all of two pounds! But my weight didn't matter. The problem was just that I can barely open my eyes underwater, much less smile. I tried to smile and unintentionally discovered my evil grimace. I was like Inspector Clouseau trying to say "Hamburger".
How could something so easy be so difficult? Here is the best one they could get of me, after trying ten or twelve times:

Trying to drown my daughter, apparently. We ended up buying a picture of Little Z swimming alone. Which looks beautiful, actually.

* And what about Exhaust(ed), the great book that wasn't a book but was a good story and appeared here as a serial? I'm writing an epilogue. The epilogue will get tagged onto the end of the book and I'm going to offer it for sale, probably in ebook form on Amazon. I will most likely also delete Exhaust(ed) from the blog- so if you haven't read it, you might want to do it now. I've gotten some insanely wonderful comments from people about it. Honestly. I'm humbled. I think I will donate some of the proceeds to The Sun magazine, for teaching me how to write. Here's a sneak peak of the cover art:


* And then what about the Dinosaur on the Moon song? Wheatbread Johnson and friends have actually formed a band called "Dinosaurs On The Moon"! They are working on their first album. How cool is that? This is the album cover:

Look familiar?

I highly recommend "Liking" them on Facebook- if you do that sort of thing. Right now, if you follow this link, you can hear a little sample of their music. They may take the sample down as they complete more songs.

I'm so happy. Not only did a band name themselves after my painting, but a good band named their band after my painting.

* What else... ? Oh, yes, we are all dead, because it is so terribly cold. Except for the sheep. The sheep are fine. As always.

Mind Blowing Science

She came home with a paper saying she had to do a science project for school, a family science project, where her parents helped. She had ideas. Big ideas, like,

"How about a real live volcano that blows up???!!!!"

My idea was,

"How about you just bring one of those lemon trees over there and show everyone how you grew it from a seed."

"Oh, well, okay."

The feeling was that we wouldn't put too much effort into it, and it probably wouldn't be terribly exciting, but it would fulfil the requirements for the project- which were pretty steep for a first grader, in my opinion.

We talked over what we would do a few times, purchased some lemons, and the day came for the presentation. This was the write up:

Problem: Will a lemon tree grow in Wisconsin?
Hypothesis: Yes, a lemon tree will grow inside the house.
Materials:
1. Lemon seeds from lemons
2. A pot
3. Dirt
4. Water
Procedures:
1. Cut the lemon in half.
2. Take a seed out of the lemon.
3. Put dirt in the pot.
4. Put the seed in the dirt.
5. Water it every day.
6. Keep it by a sunny window.
Results: The lemon trees grew in my room.
Conclusion: You can grow lemon trees in Wisconsin!

Not especially ground breaking, but good enough. She's six.

I brought the materials listed. I spent "indoor recess" with Little Z, who was nervous and started crying. She told a few other kids that her science experiment was not going to be exciting. We ate lunch, came back, and set up at a table in front of the room. The kids sat on a carpet in front of us. The teacher, this rock star teacher who sings the kids their lessons and is somewhat superhuman, took lots of pictures of me and Little Z, as Little Z read aloud the procedure and did the procedure. I cut the lemon. We dug out some seeds. Little Z started filling a pot with dirt, and it was like (you won't believe this) we were walking on the moon or something. I mean, the kids were completely fascinated! We could hear them murmuring,

"What's she going to do next?"

"What's that?"

"OH MY GOD!"

They were astounded.

Little Z was planting a lemon seed in a pot. She watered it. And then we unveiled the lemon tree that was a few months old, grown by this "procedure" of planting a seed in a pot:

[Gasps!]

How could this be?

Everyone wanted to touch it and feel it and smell it. It smelled pleasantly of lemons. (Honestly, that was fascinating. It smelled like lemons even before it had any lemons!)

Little Z walked around the room with the plant and let them touch it. They had many questions. The first one was from a little girl in the front row,

"How did you even know how to do this? Where did you get the idea? I mean, did you see it on Pinterest or something? Where?"

Little Z revealed that she had not known what would happen, but she just wanted to prove her mother wrong, because I had not believed that you could grow a lemon tree in Wisconsin. True story.

There were many more questions.

It was finally agreed that they would keep the new pot with the newly planted seed on the windowsill, water it every day, and see if it, too, would grow a lemon tree. A boy (who is actually completely infatuated with my daughter, incidentally) said,

"Maybe we'll even have lemons! We can eat them for snack time!"

And the teacher, Mrs. R, laughed and said,

"Well, I think you would have to spend many more years in the first grade with me, if you want to eat lemons off of that tree."

Then all of the children started chanting,

"YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!" in unison. It got quite loud. It was almost a mob mentality. I was impressed. Apparently, every last kid there wanted to spend years and years with Mrs. R in the first grade.

The whole scene was like a younger, much cleaner version of this movie I recently saw, The Wolf of Wall Street, where the Wolf gives a speech to all of his brokers, and they spontaneously start screaming at him,

"I fucking love you! I fucking love you!" With great vigour. Foaming at the mouth (that could be all the drugs they're on). That movie is great, by the way, except it's disgusting and has too many naked ladies and not enough naked men.

But that's the kind of popularity Mrs. R enjoys with her students, only with no drugs and no money. They just love her. It's impressive.

And the science presentation was a smashing success.

When Little Z got off the bus this evening, she remarked,

"They thought it was really exciting. I didn't really think it was that exciting."

"Me, neither."



The wonders of nature.

In the Wee Hours of the Morning

I was laying in bed this morning, sleeping, when Little Z barged into the bedroom. I pretended to still be asleep. She stood next to the bed and pulled my hair until she had my attention.

Me: "Is this an emergency? Go away!"

Z: "I have to ask you a question."

Me: "What?"

She held up something that looked in the dim morning light like a rotten tangerine.

Z: "Can I feed this from the refrigerator to my bunnies?"

Me: "Sure."

Z: "Okay!"

She ran out of the room. I realized belatedly that it was probably a brussel sprout, not a rotten tangerine.

A few minutes later, accordion music drifted into my dreams.

*****

This afternoon, I asked her,

"Did you feed your bunnies brussel sprouts and then play them the accordion, early this morning?"

"Yeah... What's so funny about that?"

I couldn't explain.

Chemical Burn

Little Z informed her parents today that some of the kids at school aren't that smart. In fact, even her teacher said something that was wrong yesterday.

"What did the teacher say that was wrong?"

"She said that a flame would never burn green. But a chemical flame will burn green. She was wrong."

"Oh, but that doesn't mean she's stupid. Teachers have to know so much. She's still smart."

"Yeah, but a chemical flame will burn green."

Typical six year old with their typical observations of typical chemical flames.

***************

In other Little Z news, we saw Santa a few days ago. Little Z wants two little bunnies for Christmas: one male and one female. She would like to be a rabbit breeder. She has already saved up her money and purchased a large cage and some typical bunny acoutrements. Her plan is to leave the cage fully stocked with food and open Christmas Eve night, and Santa can leave the bunny in there when he comes down the chimney.

She wrote this little letter to Santa Claus, telling him that she wants two bunnies, and nothing else, and then she drew a line for Santa to sign his name that yes, he has bunnies at the North Pole. Also, when we went, she brought the letter on a clipboard, and carried a pencil for Santa to sign his name to the fact that yes, he did have bunnies available. Then she dressed like an elf for the encounter.

We went to our local library. I told her, "People are going to think that you work there, with that clipboard and that elf outfit!"

So, we lined up at the library. She made me hold the clipboard while we waiting. Pretty soon, people were approaching me,

"Where do we get our number?" some guy asks me.

So I tell him. You know. How it works. He leaves.

When our turn comes to see Santa, he says to her,

"Are you an elf?"

She giggles.

When it comes time to sign on the clipboard that he has bunnies, he doesn't sign. Because. You know. He's Santa. Santa is vague. Santa is cagey. Santa does not sign on the dotted line! He knows better! He asks her if he should leave the bunnies in her bed. She says,

"No! Silly! The bunny would poop on my bed! And chew the wires in my room!"

But, honestly, and I'm not biased at all here, Santa is totally smitten with Little Z. Little Z is totally getting bunnies for Christmas, even if he wouldn't sign.