The Care and Feeding of Giants

When Thing1 gets on a new diet kick, The price of frozen concentrated orange juice on the commodities market gets thrown out of whack.

Lately it’s been apples and oranges–clementines to be exact. It’s also been lemon on everything, instead of adding salt oil. 

Yesterday, for drawing practice, I picked out one of the clementines that had started to “age out” before it could be inhaled with the rest of the 5 pound box that was supposed to last three days but barely made it to two. I like to draw imperfect fruit more for some reason.

Just Another Day

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Two kids playing two different sports, with one assistant coaching the other, and our morning routine has shot to H E double hockey sticks.

We have not made the bus more than once in the last three weeks, and Monday was no exception. 

Monday was a two sport day with a golf tournament two towns away and a game for the other after school, so we loaded up the car with gear and got to the bus stop to see it pulling away. It was OK, it was an opportunity to go over the schedule for the night and review the to-dos for the rest of the week–testing and more testing for college, prom fittings, and of course the all-important play date. 

The last thing on my mind was creativity. I didn’t even have time to congratulate myself on setting the alarm clock two hours earlier to make sure it happened Monday morning. I’ve been drawing and sketching every day and working on illustrations for a children’s book but have not been in the mood to stop and soak up and/or paint the landscape.

The missed bus stayed two cars ahead of us for most of the drive out of our 300 person town. As we reached a main road, all I noticed that grey morning was the line of brake lights in front of us. 

Thing1, however, was scanning the entire scene as he waited to guide the car into what Vermont calls “traffic”. As I went through the to do list, he leaned forward and glanced up at the sky. Then he looked at the mountain that rows up behind the nondescript garage across the street.

“Mom,” he said, “look at that light. do you see that little sliver of sun hitting the hill?” I nodded no I had not and still didn’t look up as we had seen that particular hill at least twice a day every day for the last 16 years. 

Thing1 does not go gaga for art as his brother and I do. He draws very well, but his passions lie elsewhere so his next words demanded me to look up.

“Now that’s a painting,” he said.

I closed my list and listened and looked at the mountain. The parting clouds had refracted that sliver of sun so that the three-day-old leaves on the trees were infused with gold. Golden mist from the rainstorm that had past 10 minutes earlier diffused the details of the scenery in front of us, and just like that I was back into landscapes.

All it took was an overly busy, completely ordinary day and the observation of a kid who is pretty smart for a math major to point out the forest and the trees.

Today on All My Guppies

5 1BundlesofJoy web It seems that when Herman the Hermit, my plecostomus, arrived, he brought a stowaway to Tankland with him.  It was a snail who promptly cleaned the sides aquarium and then took a vacation under the gravel for a couple weeks. I thought she had died in horror when she saw the state of the studio that lay beyond the glass (or disappointment that she had not landed in the aquarium of famed illustrator and snail portraitist Abrah Griggs), but it turned out she was feathering her stony nest to welcome a bunch of babies.

 

Oscar the Guppy, still annoyed with the Minions for holding a meeting of the Guppy Poets Society without him, looked at the swarm of little white smells climbing the walls of the aquarium, and little bubbles could be seen escaping from his gills as he shook his head in a silent “tsk”. The Minions, however, are always happy to see new life in the tank. Herman the Hermit made it clear he had no opinion as long as everyone leaves some algae for him to eat.

 

The babies ignored the chatter and decided to explore above the waterline, lodging in the hood light.  Their adventures shorted out the LED light. Oscar the Guppy, having found it terribly tacky, decided that perhaps the little ones should stay (It didn’t hurt that the snails seem to share his affinity for a clean tank) and was heard to say, “Good things really do come in lots of tiny packages.”

Change Rest Change

It was a cool great day on the Taconic Parkway, but the weather was perfect for walking around Manhattan.

We had zipped down to help a friend move a few things to their apartment on the upper West side and then headed to the other side of Central Park to see a Turner exhibit. 

T1 drove us, a huge change from the country driving when he cut his teeth. It was unnerving but also a little thrilling to see him navigate Manhattan streets and city life with the skill and confidence of an adult. 

The Big Guy lived in Boston when you’re first married, and our day trip reminded us of how much we once loved city living. we took a secured us walk from the parking garage to the museum and back, soaking up the music of at least seven languages heard from passersby and the aromas of myriad restaurants.

It was a feast for our senses and a change from the daily grind almost as huge as realizing that Thing1 will be perfectly fine when he gets out on his own. But a lot of times a changes isn’t just as good as a rest, it’s way better.

Growth Spurt

In retrospect, regaling the boys with tales of Summer camp on Lake Champlain highlighted by trips to the original Ben & Jerry’s to tackle the Vermonster with my bunk mates could only have been seen as a challenge by your all-american ten year old. 

After all, I only told them about the free T-shirts we got for consuming a scoop of every single flavor Ben & Jerry’s made in 1985 and not about the all night bathroom visits that followed.  In the end, I could only blame myself when Thing2 spotted the Ben & Jerry’s store on Church street in Burlington and began mentally planning a scaled down version of the Vermonster for one – after a healthy lunch of course. 

But it was vacation — however small, and I let him get two scoops of Fully Baked in a chocolate dipped cone if only to prove to him that, despite the start of a new growth spurt, his stomach hasn’t outgrown his eyes or his imagination.

Love the One You’re With

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They say the best camera is the one you have with you. It’s one of the reasons I abandoned my SLR camera in favour of one-handed point-and-shoots while Thing2 still wanted to hold my hand everywhere we went.  

I’ve found the same holds true for art supplies. I have a drawer full of watercolour supplies, but lately, it’s the $6 purse-sized watercolour tin and purse-sized journal that have been winning the title of ‘best art supplies’.  

More from Less

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The Big Guy and I rarely go to movies. It’s too expensive once you add snacks, and since most of the movies geared towards adolescent boys rely on volume to sell their stories, we’re just as happy to let the kids watch them on Netflix with the headphones plugged in.

We are religious about our local theater, Hubbard Hall in Cambridge, NY, however.  The title on the playbill is irrelevant. When Hubbard Hall announces a new play, we make plans to see it with and then without the boys.

We were both reminded of the reason why on Saturday night when we went to see Tennessee William’s Glass Menagerie. The most autobiographical of his plays, it depicts the dysfunctional mother and her two dysfunctional older children trying to carve out a living and a life for themselves.

Hubbard Hall is famous for stripping down a play to its bare bones. Occasionally they incorporate elaborate sets into the stage design, but more frequently, minimal props and sets are used.  Hubbard Hall has been fortunate to have had a string of wonderful directors and actors, and the less elaborate sets let the audience focus on performances where simplicity works to suspend reality for two hours.  It leaves the viewer gripping their seat the entire time as they react to the play and pray for the spell to continue as long as possible.

Saturday did not disappoint.  When the daughter Laura’s unicorn and then her heart are broken, I could see other audience members on the verge of tears.  When the son leaves and reflects on his abandonment of his family, people next to me were audibly crying. 

The play ended almost on a whisper, and, even though it was almost the cost of a movie for four (minus the snacks), the Big Guy and I walked back to the car in awe — as we always are — of how much bang we got for our bucks.