The Purpose of Blogging and Ginsberg's "A Supermarket in California"

As most of you know, I teach at a school that follows a year-round track. Although this is likely the last year I'll enjoy Novembers off due to the fact that I'm looking for a new job and the school district is going to change the calendar anyway, for now I have more time with the family and more time in general. Since I enjoy writing, you'll notice the blog posts are a lot more wordy. I know many people read blogs like dilettantes, perusing for photos and sound bytes, I prefer to think of blogs as something more. So, venture further only if you read for pleasure and like to exercise that vastly underused muscle we call the brain. Well, it's not a muscle, but...never mind.

This post started out with a desire to express my love for life. My initial thought was to simply catalog some of the people and things in life I love, such as my family, friends, hobbies, etc. but, somewhere in that thought process, an image of green electricity was elicited from my brain, an image that I immediately connected to a poem I once read which used language to educe the power and passion associated with nature and youthful zeal. I was unable to remember the poem and author, but I connected the poem to my modern poetry class from 2003, a strange and conflicted year in my life. Anyhow, the next connection was to the beat movement and then the name Allen Ginsberg. A cursory Google search did not reveal the poem I was looking for, but it did lead me to the poem you'll read below which I like to think of as an ode to the forces of nature and youth.

Now, I am often torn between two aspects of myself (ha!) one which says, "Hey, post some of your real thoughts," while the other says, "Hey, people don't want to think when they blog hop, they just want to..." So, what do they want? Well, at the risk of sounding rude, I decided some time ago I don't care what people want, the blog is mine, or rather ours, so I am going to post whatever floats my proverbial boat. Perhaps a post might just be some vacation photos with no explanatory text. Maybe I'll post a bunch of pictures of some terrible cakes. I might decide to dissect some beatnik poetry. Although I love the various species of blogs that crawl the hallways of the wild world wide web (personal narratives, news, tech, sports, photo, etc.) I personally refuse to just post endless pictures of our kids because frankly I think that eventually gets a bit boring, BUT if one's blog is dedicated to family and friends who live far away and want to see a photo blog of children, then it's serving it's purpose. Speaking of the purpose of the blog, I think many who explore blogs in the "Mormon" blogosphere think of blogs as personal of familial vehicles to share pictures and tidbits, but I think limiting ourselves to that is a sort of depressingly representative of how the average modern citizen has lost the ability to think critically. As we know, the unexamined life is not worth living. I truly and deeply agree with that statement. My close friends know how frustrating I find the sleepy state of modern society in terms of spirituality and intellectualism and I am not referring the false or pseudo-intellectuals that spew forth their venom on television and from the ivory towers of academia. I thirst for the times when the "average" Joes and Janes wrote lengthy letters and poetry and sang and wrote their own music (not that I can do either of the latter...well, I can sing, but I can't sing). So, now that I've gone off on a tirade that could potentially make me look like an egoist or an overtly critical person, which I vehemently deny since I love nearly everyone I meet from the get go, you can read what will surely be a let down after all of this hooplah I've just created. But isn't stream of consciousness fun? Also, it's in the beat spirit...although I can't say I've done so from the outset in a rhetorical fashion.

Despite the fact that the two of us would surely disagree on most fundamental aspects of metaphysics--mostly those of an ethical nature, to be sure--and although I might have been tempted to punch him in the face, I generally enjoy Ginsberg's poetry and find the Beat movement fascinating, at least from a cultural perspective, especially regarding the various ways it influenced society both negatively and positively.

Although I was exposed to it the Beat poetry as a teenager, I really discovered it, along with most modern poetry, later in college during my undergraduate studies in English at the University of California at Riverside. As one who passionately loves this life (I think you must distinguish), I can see what I think Ginsberg saw in this world and, although my vision of the world continues to depart from his as I grow older and more mature, I can remember seeing the world as "vividly" as Ginsberg did at various times, and for various reasons, as a younger man. I can't say the colors have faded, indeed they have intensified in many respects as I have borne children and begin to see the world anew, but after becoming a husband and father, and realizing this world is not the end goal, my perspective has shifted greatly and I am no longer interested in experiential sensationalism. In fact, I now see sensation and desire as huge obstacles to certain states that I now desire to attain. Regardless, I respect poets like Whitman and Ginsberg, despite their inherently hedonistic and sensational tendencies, in that they enumerate-- to steal Ginsberg's verb--the endless beauty and joys of nature, that object which has been praised since the beginning of time and lies closest to God...naturally! As a Latter-day Saint I proudly embrace the natural world and physical body while simultaneously and ecstatically proclaiming the virtues of a higher order, a spiritual order, for this is the truth we have which is that the soul of man is the body AND the spirit.

*The formatting of the poem got messed up in the copy and paste transition, sorry!

A Supermarket in California

What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon. In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neonfruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations! What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you, García Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons? I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys. I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel? I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you,and followed in my imagination by the store detective. We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier. Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in a hour.Which way does your beard point tonight? (I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel absurd.) Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely. Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage? Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of Lethe?
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A couple of the major impressions and images that come to mind while reading this:

A little supermarket Sarah and I, along with her family, frequented while visiting Jake up in Central Cali on a water skiing trip a couple of years ago.

The market in Steinbeck's Cannery Row.

Old Whitman, with his tangled white beard, shuffling through a grocery store fingering the various fruits and caught up in the ecstacy of sight and sound. Man, would I love to drive him around LA or NYC today on a busy night in a car just to watch his face. I have some ideas as to where he is now actually, but that's a metaphysical discussion in and of itself! (;

Daddy, Carter, Juice It Up, Reptiles and African Immigrants

Yesterday Carter and I hung out or, as Momma likes to say, we went on a "date," but that doesn't sit well with us. Anyhow, I decided it would be fun to hit up the local Juice It Up smoothie store off Day Street in MoVal (Moreno Valley). After getting a smoothie, I planned to jump back on the 60 East and head out to a Reptile Store that I found using Google Maps off Alessandro and Heacock. Anyone who knows me well knows that I love herpetology, specifically snakes and voracious frogs--Rest in Peace Tombie, the South American horned frog who died last year after 10 wonderful years of eating mice and wowing people with his spectacular coloring...he lived two years more than the typical lifespan of horned frogs by the way--so I knew a trip to a pet store of this nature would please us both because hey, what little boy doesn't love frogs, lizards, snakes and so forth? OK, they must exist, but I gurantee our genomes would have ZERO crossover.

Anyway, we arrived at Juice It Up rather quickly, waited in a line behind a few people--including a young black woman who was having a passionate and, in my opinion, personal conversation with a friend or family member about someone else that was both repulsive and fascinating at the same time---and made our order. We ordered the 32 oz. "Ultimate Açaí Smoothie (Organic Açaí, fresh from the Amazon with Guarana, banana & apple/strawberry juice blend) and, because you get one free "boost" with the 32 oz. side I asked for the protien additive since you know Carter and I must feed our muscles (ha!) and waited for guy to make it.

The "guy" was the only person working. A large, dark skinned black dude with an accent. He addressed us with a kind welcome when we had first entered the store, something I truly appreciate since I think all too many businesses have forgotten to treat the customer with diginity and friendliness. I struck up a conversation with him after the other customers had left. I said something to the effect that with the economy slumping it seems like more and more places are cutting staff. He agreed, but also mentioned that with the minimum wage begin raised to $8 per hour in CA, it's difficult for employers.

He continued to work so I walked over to Carter who I had set up with the iPhone on one of the tall stools at a bar. He was drawing with some little app I had loaded on the phone. I pointed out some little plaques with pictures on the wall of various sports teams which the store had obviously sponsored. That's when I noticed some little documents/news stories that were framed and mounted inconspicously on the wall in the corner. I began reading them and they described a Wraymond Sawyer who had come from war the war torn nation of Sierra Leone in Africa to the US to live with a woman who wanted to sponsor a child. He prospered in the US and when he became a man, joined the Sherriffs of San Bernardino County. In 2004, however, he was badly injured in an automobile accident and took an early retirement from the force. He now owns the Juice It Up off Canyon Springs in Moreno Valley.

Now, I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, but it hit me that the black gentleman with the accent working at the counter probably was Mr. Sawyer.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Sawyer?" I asked.

"Yes, I am," he responded.

I told him how impressed I was by his story and that I find stories such as his quite inspirational. We talked for a few minutes and I introduced him to Carter who was all smiles. I told him we'd be sure to come back and support his business since we enjoy smoothies. As we were leaving he cried out, "Carter, come here!" Carter ran over to him and he handed him a molasses cookie. Carter looked up and said, "Thank you!"

I thanked him too and we left, full of the spirit of love and fellowship. I was very touched by his story and his attitude and thankful to have met him. So, if you live on our side of Riverside and you want a smoothie, head on over to the Juice It Up right in front of Target in MoVal off Day Street. By the way, a little Googling revealed that Mr. Sawyer also sits on the board of the Val Verde School district.
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A little while later, after sucking down most of the 32 oz. smoothie between the two of us, we arrived at Prehistoric Times (a knock off of the more popular franchise Prehistoric Pets). I laughed when I got there, using Google Maps on my phone, because it's in the same strip mall as the 24 Hour Fitness I go to. I think most of the employees were outside taking a smoke break and, as we walked in past the many defunct aquariums and blacl industrial fans being used to push fresh air into the store, I had a sinking feeling that the place was "ghetto." I was suprised and content, however, to see a variety of specimens, most of whom were in good health; there are certain signs that indicate reptile health and how well they're being cared for and most of the signs were positive.

The owner, or manager, a younger Hispanic woman with bad skin but a friendly demeanor approached us and asked if we'd like some help. I politely told her we were there mostly to look around. I did ask her if she carried "Pac Man" frogs, the name by which Argentine/South American Horned Frogs are generally known in the pet industry.

"Yeah, we do actually. We don't usually get them in very often, and they go really fast. In fact, a bunch of guys from Loma Linda University keep calling to find out if we have any and I know that when they find out, they'll buy them all."

She showed me three juvenile specimens, two of which were albinos and one little guy. I could tell by their coloring that they were all hybrids and, thankfully, quite healhty. Right then I had the urge to buy the non-albino dude, but I thought better. I would need to get a new, smaller aquarium and a heating unit for the cold months approaching.

We looked at all of the snakes, lizards, turtles, and tarantulas. We then met "Red," a red-haired stoner who barely spoke but seemed content to follow us around and grunt little factoids about the animals. Carter noticed the skin on his elbows had something wrong with them and asked, "What's on your arms?" He responded by telling him but I can't remember the name of the disorder (not eczema). I laughed inside and thought of the "funky head" comments that he had been making previously about the kids at his school (see the older post about that).

Carter's absolute favorite animal in the store was not a reptile, however, it was the parrot that talked. He only said, "Hello" and "Hi," but Carter was thoroughly impressed that the animal could talk. That made my day since I wanted him to have some fun with his Dad. Soon we departed and Carter sat with a content look on his face all the way home (normally he talks incessantly, kind of like me). We arrived at home and related everything that he saw at the pet store while I laid back on the couch and thought about the little PacMan frog.
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Funny side note: that evening I took the kids to the MoVal Mall (we live just minutes from those exits which is why we go there rather than to Riverside's mall) to play in the indoor play area. Strangely enough, I met another African man who came to the US years ago. I can't recall his name, but he is a manager for WinCo foods and, like Mr. Sawyer, was a class act (synchronicity?). He told me that African immigrants are hard workers and often start their own businesses. He lamented the fact that very few Africans can immigrate to the US due to the millions of illegal immigrants who have crossed the US border illegally.

Cake Wrecks II...You Know You Wanted More!

I've Heard of Death Taking a Holiday, But This is Ridiculous

Reader Emily A. made the mistake of ordering this cake over the phone for her friends BETH and Libby.

So, Emily, how old is Death this year?

Monkey See, Monkey Doo-Doo

What is it with monkey cupcake cakes? Bad enough that it's a cupcake cake, but then to try and make a monkey out of it? (Heh: "make a monkey out of it". I guess that's not so hard, eh? Eh?) Asking for a cute monkey CCC seems destined to failure, if you ask me.

Case in point: here's what reader Alexis P. wanted for her son Caden's 1st birthday:


Which is sort of cute, but not really; the swirl cupcakes make it look like Mr. Monkey has see-through arms and legs. That isn't the Wreck, though...

This is:


Yikes.

I can't decide if this is a monkey at a stick-up who just soiled himself (an unfortunate effect of not outlining the "tail"), or if he's another steamroller victim. Or, given that expression, I suppose he could be on some Amazon torture rack - I mean, those arms and legs are rather long...

But wait! There's more!

Aren't you curious what the birthday boy thought of his cake? Because fortunately for us Alexis captured little Caden's reaction for posterity:

Ah, I can almost hear the little shrieks of terror from here. Kinda reminds me of my own family gatherings...

Think of it this way, Alexis: without experiences like this, what will Caden talk about later in therapy?

The Sprinkles Decorator Strikes Again

It's Almost Like He's Part of the Family

"Of course I don't treat him any differently. Look, I even ordered him a graduation cake today!"

And Remember:

What are you guys talking about? Our education system is fine. Really.

Thank You Veterans for War is Terrible

We would be remiss not to thank all those who serve, have served, and will serve in the military. It seems that the last decade or so has seen great changes in the way military conflicts are perceived due to the way information is disseminated now. One unfortunate result of this phenomena is that people tend to discount war, and those who participate in it, as essentially evil.

Despite all of this, the brave men and women who serve our country deserve respect. So, thank you to our cousins, friends, grandparents, and everyone else who protects our freedoms and ensures the protection of people all around the world. Since the death and destruction that war causes are always deplorable and, sometimes, without justification, may the men and women who lead our country, and all nations for that matter, choose very carefully what justifies military action and may the guilt of the sin of waging war for non-essential purposes fall upon the heads of those individuals whose greed, gluttony and love for power cause said war. On the other hand, may the innocent soldiers who die on the battlefield, or who live full lives upon their return, rest at ease knowing they did their duty and placed their faith and trust in those whom we trust to lead us righteously whether the war they fought, fight or will fight is justified, necessary and laudable.

I, for one, have never fought in a war, but I feel I understand its nature to the extent one can without having engaged in warfare and, as I have mentioned, I do believe that there are reasons to fight in this world and even to kill when necessary. I used to believe I wanted to join the military; I no longer feel that way. Although I would willingly go to war if necessary, I choose to stay at home, to work, and to spend time with my family and my friends, and to attempt to help and serve those around me. This is why I am even more grateful for the people are willing to go and to serve because if they didn't, this lifestyle would not be possible. So, once more, thank you, thank you!
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War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.

John Stuart Mill (1806 - 1873)

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Something I think about when I think of WAR:
Approximately 72,771,500 people died as a result of the Second World War.

25, 273, 700 were soldiers, 41,743, 400 were civilians and 5,754,400 of the deaths were Jewish people who died in the Shoa. השואה

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A brief and cursory philisophical/spiritual take on the necessity of war:
A God of love cannot look upon such a war without feeling anguish for His children BUT we must realize that God doesn't cause war and his job is not to stop it. This is part of the suffering humanity has brought upon itself and is part of the reason we are here. Humankind has its free will and, unfrotunately, the will to gain power, to control, to dominate, to fight over limited resources is part of this world and nation states, as unecessary as they are from an eternal perspective, are necessary in this world for many, many reasons. I invite anyone who is a complete pacifist, as we all should be in our hearts, to consider the necessity of violence in the context of the concept of a fallen, temporary world which is exactly what I, and many others, consider this world to be. If all good men and women became pacifists, what would the end result be? Probably that a tyrant would rise up and subject humankind and civilization would begin to devolve.

Irony

Vast Swaths of Sweet Nothings from the Sister Oaks Cabin in Green Valley Lake

Tonight is our first night up at a private cabin some of our friends own and Sarah has already conked out. Unfortunately, whenever I'm not working, I tend to start staying up later and later. These days I go to bed as late as 1AM but usually around 11:30 or midnight. By nature, I only need about 6-7 hours of sleep a night while Sarah likes to get between 8-9. She'll tell you I need as many as she does, and perhaps it's true since I generally want to keep sleeping when she comes in a plops Claire down on the bed knowing full well that our children (Carter was the same way) have the uncanny ability to put a knee or feet right on my bladder or crotch which, of course, is far more effective at waking up a man than the annoying sound of an alarm clock, a rooster, or my mom's old habit of throwing open the windows and singing out, "It's a beautiful day..." or some other corny line that always caused in irrational, dark anger to well up from within my id.

Sarah, unlike my mom, learned long ago that some seemingly unavoidable, natural cause is always a much safer bet. In fact I remember one year at Youth Conference (a church getaway) I can actually recall grabbing a woman's arm in my stake very violently when she awoke me by tickling me face with a feather or something. She was shocked and then amused...I was not. So, in case you don't get the picture yet, I like to be awoken slowly and peacefully. This is why I set my cell phone alarm to go off with an ascending piano crescendo to wake me up for work; then I hit snooze about five times so that I gradually climb from the sleep cycle I am in. Obviously the higher up (1 being the highest, 4 being the lowest) in the sleep cycle the easier it is to awaken. Some people go to sleep on time and wake up at the same time, thus they generally awaken easier than people like me who go to bed at eleven o'clock or later even though my first alarm goes off at 5:50AM. Yes, I admit it: I lack self-discipline in this area of my life.

I love the morning time. As a fisherman, looking out at the sunrise over a cold lake while preparing my first cast is always a poignant, life affirming moment. Getting out of bed to get down to the lake on time, hellish. More than the morning time, I love the quiet solitude of the evening and early morning when cell phones don't ring and I am free to read, write, watch a movie or meditate. I suppose the preferable time to enjoy these ponderous, quiet moments is in the early morning. This is why I have come to the conclusion that some day I am going to have to make a serious lifestyle change. For example, one thing I have come to wholeheartedly accept as an absolute necessity in life is the act of meditation and prayer, or meditative prayer as it were. Although I pray morning and night, I am all too often in an agitated state of mind because I am either rushing out the door or so tired that prayer amounts to making sure I think God for all I have to avoid seeming ungrateful. This, of course, is not true prayer. God knows my thoughts and feelings, so prayer then is really more about receiving revelation. Prayers that are rushed or are centered around the alleviation of one's conscience are not really productive in the sense that they feed one's ego instead of helping to destroy it. Anyhow, the bottom line is that my study and prayer would greatly benefit from the old mantra, "Early to bed, early to rise..."

This afternoon and evening were very relaxing, especially after we put the kids to bed. We arrived, unpacked the van, "booted up" the cabin by turning on the water, the water heater and adjusting the thermostat (it's quite cold). Then, we spent some time in the living room. I tried to close my eyes for a few minutes and Sarah attempted to read, but inevitable we ended up assuring that Claire didn't fall off chairs, break vases (she broke one this morning at home), or steal Carter's precious little bag of Halloween candy we let him bring up here. Carter also had some special needs of his own including helping him open and close his backpack, find paper to color with and fend of attacks from Claire since she loves to grab his ears and even bite him sometimes. Claire really is a handful these days and although she's saying new words all the time, she still gets extremely frustrated since she has so much desire yet so few tools to get her point across. A very common occurrence is her going into the kitchen and screeching and flailing her arms until someone comes in and deduces what she'd like to eat or drink. Sarah even tries to teach her simple sign language from Bay Einstein to facilitate communication but she'll have none of that. Her favorite words right now include: mamma, dadda, hi, bye, dog, hot, and shoes. She used to say Carter's name more but she stopped recently. I predict a language explosion some time in the next 2-3 months.

After about an hour or so at the cabin, we plopped the kids in our new stroller and walked down the depressing, yet beautiful, little road to the lake. Why depressing? Well, because last year's wildfires destroyed many homes/cabins up here. As you walk you can see the concrete foundations where residences and vacation homes stood not very long ago. We also watching some men cutting down trees which was interesting.

Photo of firefighters at GVL last year.

When we arrived at the lake, we played on a swing set and jungle gym for a while and then threw rocks in the water. There was a little incline with snow on it and some young girls came down with a little sled and Carter took a turn on it and, of course, loved it. We informed him that tomorrow we'll go down a much larger slide when we visit Big Bear and do the Apline slide.

After the arduous task of pushing both kids back up the road in the high altitude, we arrived back at Sister Oaks (the name the women who own the cabin gave it). Actually, I should mention that Sarah decided to push the stroller up the last incline and in the process hit a little bump, sending the stroller crashing to the ground. Claire, who was strapped in, was fine, but Carter was ejected. He cried for a moment from the shock, but afterward we all had a good laugh. This isn't the first time this has happened, but it's the first time it wasn't my fault.

So, we got back and Sarah started dinner while I lit a fire. After trying to figure out if the flue (thanks to Mrs. Anonymous for the spelling help) was open or not, I got a little fire going which always makes a cabin feel more cozy. Sarah's dinner was absolutely delicious. We (I love cooking too) grilled up some chicken and cooked up some rice with salsa, taco seasoning and chicken broth, then put it together and added some shredded cheddar and simmered it all together. We then served the meal with some fresh avocado and some fresh vegetables on the side. Even the kids liked it although we had to threaten Carter with hot chocolate and popcorn sanctions if he didn't eat. As usual, after he ate the first bite he finished almost the entire plate. Also, in accordance with the normal goings on of the Todd home, Claire gorged herself and made a huge mess in the process. Is it just me, or do baby girls eat better than baby boys? I have no idea, but Claire and my niece Ella never seem to turn down a meal.

Although we're doing most of the cooking here at the cabin, we've decided to eat out both days for lunch. So tomorrow I'm going to make a Tomato Frittata for breakfast along with some bacon, lunch up in Big Bear, and then I'm making a potato soup for dinner. Then, on Wed. morning Sarah is going to make her delicious and healthy whole wheat pancakes. I can officially declare my love for true whole wheat thanks to my wife. Although we love quality white bread (real bakery bread) and flour tortillas, we're 95% whole wheat in all things including bread, tortillas, and English muffins. Indeed, we generally get the double fiber English muffins and I can eat those bad boys untoasted...don't try that at home.

So, it's now past 11:00PM and the strange need to spew forth information from my brain is now subsiding. Have a happy day/night and thanks for stopping by the Todd Pad. I've decided, just for fun, to start adding some YouTube video monologues. Why? I don't know, it just seems fun. I think non-bloggers often think of blogging as bragging or something, and maybe to some degree there's truth to that, but personally I just like sharing ideas, thoughts, pictures and information (aren't all of those things technically information?) with other people. Indeed, that's why TV's all about but at least bloggers like me and most of the people I know aren't out to try to make money like TV is, so if you like TV, you should love blogs. And when people ask, "How do you have the time?" I feel like saying, "How do you have the time to read blogs, or the paper, or to watch TV, or whatever it is you do? And if you have no time to read or create something of our own accord (which is what blogging is) then I truly feel sorry for you. One of the things in life I need to work on the most is time management, but there are many, many things I do besides blogging that I need to cut back or eliminate completely. I guess I should add that now that I am finished with my own studies, I feel like I have plenty more free time. Also, because I am not the YM President anymore I have more time during the week generally while my Sundays are much busier. Hey, I am even finding time to exercise and get my home teaching done and besides spending time with Sarah and the kids and getting fulfilling my spiritual callings and duties, those are my top priorities since they both ensure longevity (one physically and the other spiritually).

Ok, now it really is time for bed since it's 11:27! If anybody reads this whole thing I'll know it because I am going to tell you one last thing about me: I have six toes on my left foot. OK, I don't, but I don't really have any secrets I want to share at this time since they're all far less thrilling and much more depressing than that (smile).

No..I'd Rather Not...

I just thought this was funny. It seems like something Claire might do in a few months. She loves dogs and cats even more than Carter did. She screams out with desire to be on the ground with them and then, when you set her down, she screams out with fear, BUT if you pick her up, she screams out because she doesn't want to be picked up. Hmmmmm...she really is a female!

Mairzy Doats And Dozy Doats and liddle lamzy divey

I finally figured out what my dad used to sing to us. And they say they can't understand our music!

"I know a ditty nutty as a fruitcake Goofy as a goon and silly as a loon Some call it pretty others call it crazy but they all sing this tune: Mairzy Doats And Dozy Doats and liddle lamzy divey A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you? Yes! Mairzy doats And Dozy Doats and liddle lamzy divey A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you? If the words sound queer, and funny to your ear, a little bit jumbled and jivey, Sing "Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy" Oh! Mairzy Doats and Dozy Doats and liddle lamzy divey A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you - oo? A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?"