I was working at the kitchen table this evening, with Tiny Dog in my lap. She peered crankily over the edge of the table at Beloved Husband, who, amused, took a photo. He showed me the picture, and I was somewhat caught off guard to see that Tiny Dog really does look quite tiny, especially when adjacent to my cleavage.
I've resigned myself to the idea that I'll never be a tiny, dainty person; yet I must be in denial of my... ample-ness, since I am perpetually surprised/dismayed when I see photographs. I clearly need to work on my self-image. Or my diet. Or both.
Perhaps, someday, I'll be fine with what I see in pictures.
I can aspire.
Even two chihuahuas may be no match for the mammaries.
I saw a trailer for a documentary about Mr. Rogers today. And though I don't much enjoy documentaries, this is one that I will be happy to watch.
You can find all sorts of clips of Mr. Rogers all over YouTube. They are delightful. Look at him: his all-encompassing kindness, his thoughtful acknowledgment of feelings of all shapes and sizes. He seems almost too good to be true -- and I watch him, nearly fearful, half-expecting a piece of sarcasm or of dismissal or of anger to come from him. Yet it never does. He speaks soothingly and lovingly to all people, regardless of their age, color, abilities. It is beautiful -- almost as if a conversation with Mr. Rogers could somehow put the whole world right again.
Thank you, Mr. Rogers, for making the world a better place.
I was weeding through the pictures on my phone, and came across some that I took last time I was visiting my parents. Behold, my paternal grandfather's humidor:
Grandpa Hy would give us the bands from his cigars, and we would wear them like rings on our fingers. I always liked the smell of his cigars. Sheynah meydeleh, he would call me. Pretty girl. He was a generous man, for I was a somewhat plain and rather buck-toothed child. He always did make me special, just for being myself.
Within just over twenty-four hours, first Offspring the Second, then Offspring the Third, and finally Cherished Friend took their leave from the house. Now Beloved Husband has gone to run some errands, and so it is just the small dogs and I here.
Alas. Pieces of my heart, gone forth into the world once more.
Flowers, copyright 2018, Offspring the Third. Used with gratitude.
Physicist Stephen Hawking has passed away. So brilliant -- he described the universe to us in ways that we can only begin to understand. What a tremendous contribution to human knowledge. What has he learned now, as he has become one with the cosmos?
We are all stardust.
Offspring the Second, ever eloquent, stated simply: A lifetime is but a drop in the eternity of the cosmos, but that's all we get, and that's all we need. Enjoy the beyond, professor.
This week is spring break for Offspring the Second and Offspring the Third, and they are happily in the house, eating all the things, distributing their possessions about the house, and generally enjoying the luxury that is free time.
I envy them.
I need, more than anything, a break from Everything. For a week. For a day. For an hour.
Earlier this week, a woman with whom I work brought me this wee critter. She knows that I am overloaded with A Million Different Projects right now, and thought it would cheer me.
It did. Thank you, lovely coworker.
I confess that I have very mixed feelings when kindnesses are bestowed upon me. My first thought is to feel guilty that I am not the one delivering kindnesses; my second thought is to be concerned that I have let slip some sign that I am not handling all my Many Things as well as I should -- shown some sort of vulnerability -- that has occasioned the kindness, and that I might thus be in some sort of danger by virtue of such a display of vulnerability. There might be some background feelings of I'm not worthy floating in there, too.
Perhaps one day, I will simply be pleased and grateful, without all the clutter of negative feelings. I look forward to that day.
Happy birthday, Beloved Husband. I made you a cake from scratch -- it is a fudge cake, with mocha icing. The recipe seems surprisingly light despite the abundance of chocolate. We shall see how you like it.
Do you realize that we have known one another for 57% of your entire life? That is a long time, isn't it? Yet is has gone quickly.
I hope you enjoy your cake, and many, many more years of birthdays to come.
We went to see Black Panther this evening. It was an excellent movie, beautifully filmed, well acted, and entertaining. A refreshing change from standard superhero fare.
The best part, for me, was the female presence throughout the movie. It was magnificent: it was neither "token female" nor "look we are diversifying by making some characters female", but rather, women as an integral -- and natural -- part of the story. Whereas Wonder Woman was a solitary woman in the world of Men, in Black Panther, women are security, technology, and a driving force for aid and betterment of society, working together and as part of the whole of the world. Magnificent, indeed.
Once more, I did not know what was missing, until I saw this movie.
Offspring the Second turns twenty-three today. He is such a lovely person: bright, inquisitive, polite, thoughtful, kind-hearted and witty. It is always a pleasure to speak with him. When he shares his point of view with me, I see the world anew through his eyes, and I am made a better person.
Beloved Husband sent me a few pictures of Offspring the Second's first days. In one in particular, Offspring the Second slumbers peacefully in his fuzzy green onesie, resting in my arms like a wee green caterpillar, dreaming of the day when he will be a butterfly.
And in the blink of an eye, this once-tiny little person is grown and has transformed into an angular, delightful young man on the threshold of all sorts of wonderful possibilities. Go forth, Offspring the Second, and see where the winds of the world take you.
NinjaHead resides with a muffin-baking woman known herein as Herself. Herself has a Beloved Husband, with whom she shares three nearly-grown Offspring. When she is not writing Things, Herself nurtures a visceral fondness for small furry creatures. The household menagerie, which has varied in size and composition over the years, presently contains solely a minuscule middle aged chihuahua and a lovely red fish named Ruth Betta Finsburg. Someday, there will be more critters, for she loves them tremendously.