Sunday, January 30, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
This is the short (15 seconds) video that, when I tried to email, turned out to be a huge file. The question is, can I figure out how to embed it here?
If the answer is yes, what you see is me learning a new skill, and then saying "I don't think I did that right" (which I hadn't - I raised it up too early), which is then why OAF starts laughing.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Thanks for your response. As you already know, I told PecanMama to read it because I knew it would make her cry. I would tell StrongDad too, but I know he would repeat some variation on the age-old question, "Wait, you girls have a blog?" and I don't feel like answering again. It's not like it was his birthday present or anything. Sheesh. What good is a birthday present that is ostensibly for someone else even though it really serves to fulfill your own selfish purposes if that someone else doesn't even remember they were given it? (Guess that photo of Nancy Anderson just eclipsed all else.)
Speaking of presents, here's your long-awaited round-up of what was waiting for me at the apt when I arrived:
First, Teddy made some new friends:
Myles the Moose and a puppy! I haven't named her yet. Maybe something like Blacknose? Strongfoot? The husky-who-actually-looks-like-a-husky?
Various kitchen supplies:
A book on cheese making (because I want to learn how to make cheese), a thermos which has yet to, but will certainly soon, hold a lot of hot chocolate, and a cast-iron muffin tin (which I was too lazy to go get for the photo, because it's already upstairs in use).
Various snow supplies:
Snow overalls, long underwear (top and bottom!), head lamp (not for spelunking, I asked), and the infamous snow skirt - my new favorite piece of clothing. Missing from the picture: two left-handed gloves (OAF: "Oops.")
Not to be confused with, various emergency snow supplies:
Wool blanket, heat pads, and 5 (?) gloves.
From OAF (well, plus all of the above): my very own poser sweatshirt. Now I just have to live up to the label. And from OAF's mother, a pair of warm slippers to keep my feet warm. They are cow hide with deer skin inserts, beaver fur tops, and wolverine/lynx ruffs. At first, based on my upside-down-chicken-roasting "experiment," I thought I should keep a list of "animals I've learned to cook." Then I thought I'd also have to keep a list of "animals I've seen (alive)" while out and about up here. I never thought of keeping an "animals I've worn" list, but ... so far that one is longer than either of the two above.
your sus-sister (As in, suspicious sister: why is it 35 degrees here?)
Monday, January 3, 2011
Dear Frister (that’s freezing sister, as I assume you must be),
You know what’s funny? I actually remember some of those too! I mean, clearly I don’t remember being in the car seat and grabbing your finger, but I think I might actually remember the seat belt excitement, or perhaps I was similarly allowed to unbuckle my seat belt to get Super Tiger his bottle at some point, and found it equally as astounding. But, I can say, quite certainly, that I do remember the kitchen story. And I remember thinking two things: 1) don’t be ridiculous, I have not replaced you and 2) huh, pretty cool, I’m being like Liz! Oh, and a third—3) here, have your spot back. These folks be crazy. You deal with ‘em.
I’ll be honest—I can’t think of an adequate response to your last post. The reason being, well…it was just an awesome post. I tried to brainstorm, but my thoughts kept going back to yours, and morphing themselves into something that would really just be a mimicry. And then I realized—oh, right, that’s what I do.
Here’s the thing—the best thing’s I’ve written are modeled after things you’ve written. 7 Miles to Manilow was the back-bone of both my funeral story and my leg story (hm, yes, I know my writing is somewhat morbid). I’ve had 7 Miles to Manilow stuck in my brain since I read it, and it’s probably somewhere in everything I’ve written. So is the purgatory story you wrote—that one just boggles my mind. I can’t think about it too much because it hurts my brain, and then I try to think about how your brain must work in order to have written that, and that hurts my brain even worse. I always assumed that you and I had the same brain, until I read that story. It was at that point that I realized that your brain does things that mine cannot. Crazy, cool, mind-boggling things.
There are other examples, but those two make my point. You told me that my leg story was a better version of your 7 Miles to Manilow, but you’re wrong. It’s not better, it’s just my version. And here is the thing, it’s only good because it’s based on you. And I think that’s sort of how it works in life. You do something, and then I use that as my outline, maybe make a few adjustments (like going abroad for a semester instead of a year) but basically just put my own spin on it. And I’m always, always trying to wrap my head around your cyclical double story and create something even half as, for lack of a better word, cool as that.
What I’m trying to say is it’s always easier to write from an outline than a blank piece of paper. So thanks.
Your can’t-wait-to-hear-all-about-the-igloos sister