watching the snow
I like snow - I do. And we've had a few good sized storms, which I have enjoyed...but we await more snow and I've, nearly, had enough.
I think I've mentioned that I am growing tired of planning my armor each morning. The puffy coat, the boots, what sweater? which gloves? These are happy problems.
So.
More snow.
While I fantasize about sandals.
What are we up to?
I know you want to know...
Oldest has been volunteering at an Elder Condo. He is loving moving furniture and washing windows and lifting things for old ladies.
Middle is editing some videos for a very famous music company.
Youngest went to school as Dr. House today, with cane and jacket and snark. Check his urine. It could be LUPUS, was heard throughout the school. (It's Spirit Week and they were told to dress as "characters.")
K is working double-time. He's doing his Spring Project (thank you, God, for the Spring Project) as well as dealing with what seems, to me, to be a Clusterfuck at his day job (thank you God, for his day job).
And me? (The Chirp) Well, I'm plugging along.
This week I'm helping the Publicity Department with a huge mailing (2000 packages), arranging for my boss to attend a meeting in Paris and organizing about a thousand appointments. The office blog continues to be very well received and we have 15 writers who each bring something so different to the page that it's a bit of a thrill to read each day.
(Oldest is strumming away just beyond me - a lovely acoustic by Bayside - Blame It On Bad Luck. I love when he plays acoustic.)
Tonight on the train, I sat next to a guy who was the same color as the old pages of his copy of Dickens. He was beaky, I realized, and had scruffy red hair and I turned my iPod down low so I wouldn't disturb him with my NIN.
I was bumped as another little bird-person walked the aisle past me. She had a double chin and resembled a pigeon. Really.
When I got up to leave the train I encountered the third bird. Thick spectacles and tussled hair, she couldn't see well and her eyes and head darted this way and that as she navigated the exit.
My train was full of birds!
Do you know (no, you do not) that there is an exhibit of Maira Kalman work in a not-so-distant museum? Balls of string! Ladders! Buckets! Things of which I am enamored. And, so, I am planning a trip to see this exhibit and, as you may well remember, I have MET Ms. Kalman.
So, I wrote to her to tell her how excited I am...
Dear Ms. Kalman,
I've only just read about your exhibit and am very excited to be planning a trip to see it.
Had I known of your collection of buckets I would have gladly sent my galvanized and enameled buckets as I've never known what to do with them (though I have been deeply attracted to them).
I've got string too. I am an admirer of string.
I'm sure I sound quite crazy except, maybe, to you.
Looking forward,
and, lo, Maira wrote back:
THANK YOU.
most kind.
who doesn't love a nice bucket.
m
People, I'm telling you. I am going to endear myself slowly, over time, to my hero, Ms. Kalman. (In a totally non-stalkerish way.) And someday, with you as my witness, we will have coffee (or tea, or SOMETHING).
Just you wait.
ps - read me here at 9:00 today!
I think I've mentioned that I am growing tired of planning my armor each morning. The puffy coat, the boots, what sweater? which gloves? These are happy problems.
So.
More snow.
While I fantasize about sandals.
What are we up to?
I know you want to know...
Oldest has been volunteering at an Elder Condo. He is loving moving furniture and washing windows and lifting things for old ladies.
Middle is editing some videos for a very famous music company.
Youngest went to school as Dr. House today, with cane and jacket and snark. Check his urine. It could be LUPUS, was heard throughout the school. (It's Spirit Week and they were told to dress as "characters.")
K is working double-time. He's doing his Spring Project (thank you, God, for the Spring Project) as well as dealing with what seems, to me, to be a Clusterfuck at his day job (thank you God, for his day job).
And me? (The Chirp) Well, I'm plugging along.
This week I'm helping the Publicity Department with a huge mailing (2000 packages), arranging for my boss to attend a meeting in Paris and organizing about a thousand appointments. The office blog continues to be very well received and we have 15 writers who each bring something so different to the page that it's a bit of a thrill to read each day.
(Oldest is strumming away just beyond me - a lovely acoustic by Bayside - Blame It On Bad Luck. I love when he plays acoustic.)
Tonight on the train, I sat next to a guy who was the same color as the old pages of his copy of Dickens. He was beaky, I realized, and had scruffy red hair and I turned my iPod down low so I wouldn't disturb him with my NIN.
I was bumped as another little bird-person walked the aisle past me. She had a double chin and resembled a pigeon. Really.
When I got up to leave the train I encountered the third bird. Thick spectacles and tussled hair, she couldn't see well and her eyes and head darted this way and that as she navigated the exit.
My train was full of birds!
Do you know (no, you do not) that there is an exhibit of Maira Kalman work in a not-so-distant museum? Balls of string! Ladders! Buckets! Things of which I am enamored. And, so, I am planning a trip to see this exhibit and, as you may well remember, I have MET Ms. Kalman.
So, I wrote to her to tell her how excited I am...
Dear Ms. Kalman,
I've only just read about your exhibit and am very excited to be planning a trip to see it.
Had I known of your collection of buckets I would have gladly sent my galvanized and enameled buckets as I've never known what to do with them (though I have been deeply attracted to them).
I've got string too. I am an admirer of string.
I'm sure I sound quite crazy except, maybe, to you.
Looking forward,
and, lo, Maira wrote back:
THANK YOU.
most kind.
who doesn't love a nice bucket.
m
People, I'm telling you. I am going to endear myself slowly, over time, to my hero, Ms. Kalman. (In a totally non-stalkerish way.) And someday, with you as my witness, we will have coffee (or tea, or SOMETHING).
Just you wait.
ps - read me here at 9:00 today!
Comments
Isn't it nice to have live background music? I used to love that when my foster kids played while I made dinner.
I'm jealous of your snow. We've had lots of small crappy storms that leave 3 or 4 inches. I keep telling Mother Nature to either sh*t or get off the pot before summer comes knocking.
J'adore Maira Kalman. When I would read/see her work in the Times online, I couldn't wait to read it. And it almost always brought tears to my eyes. Happy tears, proud tears, tears at beauty or goodness. Tell her: thank you.
But I am really only commenting because the verification word that popped up when I was reading the other comments was "conpits" and that is too good to waste.
It made me remember when you and Middle followed the string.
Your boys are each so interesting, in their own unique ways.
Happiest for you all.
Paola
I too, have no doubts you will have coffee with Ms.Kalman.
I like your letter to M. Kalman, and am thrilled for you that she wrote you back. You and she are kindred spirits.
jbhat
I had a 3 course dinner in her home AND a morning coffee with her ;-)
Your train paragraph is the most beautiful descriptive writing.
I think you should do a book of train writings..(I just wish I could do the photographs for you!)
Somehow, I would like to do this for my family, especially the boys. Anything to get that damn TV turned off ;)