It's in the Stars

It was meant to happen, clear as day. You know what I mean--that split second when, in the course of shopping the after-Christmas clearances, your eyes land--BINGO!--just like that--on the prize.

And I don't mean just a good bargain--watchful eyes land on those all the time. No, this day brought one of those delightful instances of serendipity when the perfect piece of merchandise met Googie at the crossroads of "It's about time you saw me hanging on this rack" and "Please don't let me snatch you up with such force that I raise the suspicions of the store detective ."

Let's rewind a bit. I was not at our town's new Kohl's store looking for anything in particular. I was simply cruising the aisles with a 30%-off coupon burning a hole in my billfold, along with a Kohl's cash certificate worth $10 off any purchase. There were already a few miscellaneous--comparatively unimportant--items in my cart at the time I scored the find:

Now, I realize that, at first glance, this may not look like all that big a deal to you. In fact, it may look mysteriously like just another "Grandma" sweatshirt--the kind that if you've seen one, you've seen them all. But au contraire mon ami--look again as you slowly absorb the utter wonder of this particular shirt. There are several reasons why only something like fate could dictate that I would end up with it.

First, it says, "My Grandkids Sparkle & Shine like Stars." That sentence contains a simile, a figure of speech that compares two things using the word like. It is, therefore, a poetic statement, and I am a poet. In fact, I am currently in the early stages of a book of children's poems titled Harvest the Stars. Yes, stars. What are the chances that, given those things, I would find this shirt today?

But it gets better. The shirt has exactly six stars, one for each of my six grandkids. Coincidence? I think not.

Next, it is not my nature to brag about my grandkids (uncross fingers now--it is too hard to type with them crossed), but my grandkids actually are stars. Sooby played Skippyjohn Jones' mother in a skit last summer in a kids' theatre class at our local community college. Pooh once gave a stellar performance as a mean mouse in The Nutcracker (I blogged about that a couple years ago--he ended up on stage too early and tried to kill the nutcracker). Bootsie danced in that same production.

The evidence doesn't stop there: For four years now on Christmas afternoon our family has sung a song together to post on Facebook as a Christmas greeting to our friends. This year we did "Rudolph," with all the kids donning antlers (except Sooby, who was Santa) and acting out parts as we sang. Last year we did "We Three Kings," with the three little boys--Beenie, Zoomie, and Heero-- looking astral as the stars of wonder, night, and royal beauty bright. The remnants of their costumes are a testament to this:

So there you have another manifestation of our "star" theme and sufficient evidence to prove that my sweatshirt find was, indeed, nothing short of miraculous.

I might also mention, just in passing, that I gave a total of $9.02 for this perfect-in-all-ways sweatshirt, which originally sold for $40. The icing on the cake is that, although I am sure it was on clearance as Christmas merchandise, there is nothing on it that restricts its use to only the Christmas season.

Add all these things together and you can see why my new sweatshirt makes this a great day. Although I didn't win the big lottery last week, I consider myself quite a winner, and for that I thank my lucky--well--stars.

Pretzel Art

It is really too bad that moms tell their kids not to play with their food.

As Zoomie and I discovered last weekend, that simply is not true, especially if pretzels are involved. We are living proof that, given a bag of pretzels, your snack can become an art medium and your kitchen a studio. Imagine that you are sauntering through an art museum, and you stop to contemplate the following works:

Pa-pa's Pickup on a Clear Day

Here you see Pa-pa's truck heading to the farm to feed the cows on a clear winter day dominated by blue sky. The salt on the pretzels doubles as bits of snow. So realistic is this representation that you can almost feel the warmth of the truck's cab and hear the crunch of the tires as they plow through a crust of white.

Stylish Snowman at Christmas

What shouts "Christmas" more clearly than this merry red background supporting a whimsical snowman? And what blares out "fashion" any more obviously than a snowman who would forego the traditional black top hat in favor of a stylish tam propped aside his head at a rakish angle? 

True, several pretzels were harmed in the execution of this piece. But you will be relieved to know that their remains were honorably interred and, in so doing, there were no "starving artists" residing at Googie's. 

Antenna-less Butterfly

Flying into snack time on dreams of hope, this unique butterfly acts as a harbinger of spring and the hope that January will be gone in the foreseeable future. Rivaling "Pa-pa's Pickup" in complexity (both require eleven pretzels), this beautiful insect virtually flies off a green background signifying an imminent return to all things spring.

So there you have it--proof that a kid's experience at Googie's can be enhanced when the line between snack time and play time is intentionally blurred. And--oh, yeah--if you wish to purchase any of these pieces for your personal art collection, just contact me. The artist is three-and-a-half and not yet taking calls.

  

It's a Wrap!

I don't have to do much reflecting on the past year to recall twelve great months of watching the six grandkids grow and learn. With our newest set of family Christmas festivities officially relegated to memory (and the wonders of digital photography), it seems fitting to wish you a Happy New Year with one last pic of Googie and Pa-pa posing with the kids.

If you have wandered into "Googie's Attic" over the past couple years, you already know the problems plaguing any effort to capture all six kids in a pose that does justice to their cuteness. There is always one look askance, one set of closed eyes, or somebody who, tired of the whole thing, is walking off the set to take up a picket sign.

One year, our Christmas photo featured a group shot where everyone was mad for a different reason. That, as you may remember, was charming. Last year, Sooby decided to close her eyes on purpose because she thought it would "be funny" if it looked like she had fallen asleep.

So this year, I decided we would make no effort to attain professional quality in our official picture. Instead, I bought and assembled a set of eight festive photo booth accessories to adorn our countenances with some seasonal merriment.

For the record, let me identify, from left to right on the back row, Pa-pa, Sooby, Pooh, Googie, and Zoomie. On the front row are Bootsie, Heero, and Beenie. The kids range from two to eight years old this year.

The little set of props turns out to be one of my better $1 investments of the year. And, ironically, our picture probably turned out better than usual simply because we gave ourselves permission to have fun and be silly.

Happy New Year to all of you from Googie, Pa-pa, and the kids. We hope you will make an occasional visit to "Googie's Attic" in 2016. I will try my best to make it a place where grandkid magic remains alive and well, and where learning, love, and laughter rule.

A Cowabunga! Christmas

In our family, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle tradition has wrapped its lime-green arms around a second generation of little boys.

Named after Renaissance artists, Michelangelo, Leonardo, Donatello, and Raphael, the Turtles began as mere comic book doodles in 1984, first acquired movie fame in 1990, and dazzled the cinema world most recently in a 2014 reboot. The '90 movie caught son Teebo, who was five then, and the newest one hit just in time to capture the imaginations of grandsons Pooh, Zoomie, Beenie, and Heero (who, if you ask me, would  themselves make a dynamic crime-fighting foursome).

So in my after-Christmas bargain stalking last year, it seemed ordained by fate that I should find a package of eight lime green tree ornaments. Having just seen an idea for making Ninja Turtle ornaments on Facebook, I determined that each pair of grandsons would have a set of these for their Christmas trees in 2015.

Later in the year I came upon a packaged set of four spools of ribbon with--get this--exactly the four colors of the turtles' masks. With a few googly eyes left over from a previous craft adventure, I was ready to heat up my glue gun and shoot.

Not only did the ornaments cost mere pennies to make, the process is about as quick and easy as you can imagine.

1. Cut a length of ribbon 14 inches long.
2. Stick its mid-point at mid-ornament with a spot of glue. (If your ribbon has a high paper or plastic content, be sure to use the low setting on your glue gun--I learned this the hard way, at the expense of Donatello's first mask).
3. Tie the ribbon snugly in the back and trim the ends to the desired length.
4. Glue on the eyes.
5. Add an ornament hanger.

If I should be lucky enough to find some more green ornaments after Christmas this year, you can bet I will snap them up. With the boys ranging in age from two to six, there could easily be some casualties involved.

After all, fighting crime can be a messy business, and we need to keep our Turtles intact. Merry Christmas to you, may your new year be filled with pizza, and Cowabunga, Dude!

Our Funny Santa Video

If you can find five minutes and forty-one seconds to spare in your hectic Christmas season, I have a treat for you. It is something you can enjoy by yourself or in the company of little people you love. All you need is a computer, iPad or smart phone that gives you access to You Tube.

In the four years since it was posted, a computer-animated short titled "Ornaments," produced by Aaron James Erimez of Eye in the Sky Productions, has amassed over five million views. I am pretty sure the kids and I are responsible for at least one million of those.

The video is a neat little piece of artwork that combines imaginative graphics, a variety of classical music, and a lovable Santa Claus ornament who encounters numerous conflicts as he tries to make his way off the tree to the coffee table, where an irresistible plate of chocolate chip cookies awaits him.

Despite the number of times my kids have seen this video, they relish it with new gusto every time. They love it so much that we watch it all year long, and not just during the Christmas season. Here is how you can enjoy this great little video feature for yourself:

1. Do a You Tube search for "funny Santa videos." When the choices pop up, look for a picture of  a Pixar-looking Santa with a Christmas tree on the right and a sofa with table lamp on the left. You will also see the "5:41," indicating how long the video runs.

2. Click on that picture, and when you see the names and titles mentioned in the second paragraph above, you will know you are in the right place. You will hear composer George Bizet's "Habanera" from Carmen playing and then a radio signing off the air. These are the video's only spoken words; the rest of it plays out to the immortal compositions of composers Tchaikovsky, Offenbach, and Rossini.

3. Sit back and enjoy the next few minutes as you watch the ingenuity of a Santa ornament who unhooks himself, rides a candy cane zip line down a garland of tinsel, lands on a toy train, catapults himself onto the piano, uses a director's baton to pole vault to the top, makes a paper airplane out of a piece of sheet music ("Silent Night"), and takes a harrowing ride in an attempt to get to the cookies.

Does he make it? If I told you, that would spoil the whole thing for you, wouldn't it? Really, you have to see this yourself to appreciate it. You will find it to be a creative, colorful, fast-paced piece of animation punctuated by numerous instances of giggle-out-loud humor.

There is not one of my six grandkids who has not seen and does not love the antics of "Funny Santa." I hope you will check it out, and let me know if you like it as much as we do.

Two Reasons To Celebrate

It is an unseasonably warm and windy day here in central Missouri. The Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays are knocking at our doors. But this day stands as an occasion to slow things down--to pause and reflect. To give thanks and due respect. Today I take this brief moment and this tiny splinter of cyberspace to celebrate my husband as a Vietnam War veteran and to honor the memory of my dad, who would have been ninety-one years old today.

This is the man my grandkids call "Pa-pa," my husband of nearly thirty-five years. Here, you see him in the uniform he wears when he serves on our local VFW firing squad to honor deceased veterans at the grave site. It is a service he performs out of selflessness, respect, and a genuine empathy with those who served their country.

Pa-pa himself was drafted into the U.S. Army, serving from 1966-68. In that last year (which he always refers to as "eleven months and twenty-five days"), he was with the First Air Cavalry. He followed in the footsteps of his own father, who was awarded a Purple Heart in World War II. My children and grandchildren inherit a rich background of service to these United States.

My dad, shown above with Sooby in 2010, was not able to serve in the military, but was born on Nov. 11. Sooby and Pooh remember him, but Bootsie was only a year old when he passed away four years ago, and Beenie, Zoomie, and Heero weren't yet born. Dad knew Beenie was coming, but never got to meet him. He bore the burdens of his terminal disease stoically and selflessly, and was, in his own way, a different kind of hero.

Mom is OK today, Dad. I had lunch with her, and we duly noted your birthday. She has demonstrated some bravery herself these past four years. You would be proud. As for me, I am proud, honored, and blessed beyond measure to have shared a family with both of these men that I love dearly.

Today is  Nov. 11. Happy Veterans' Day, Pa-pa, and Happy Birthday, Dad.

Metaphorical Musings

The poet in me loves metaphors. For me, the fresh, thoughtful comparison of something ordinary to something surprising involves the ultimate creativity. With metaphor, that comparison is implied rather than directly stated, and that makes it even more thought-provoking as a figure of speech.

For instance, if we describe Aunt Lucy as "the queen of Saturday night Bingo," that brings to mind a vivid mental picture of her--complete with crown, robe, and scepter--turning the drum to mix up all those little balls and then calling out, in her most regal voice, "B-4!" We find that interesting partly because the Bingo hall is about the furthest thing from a palace there could be. So we chuckle at that irony and think of Aunt Lucy in a fun and memorable new way.

Recently I happened on a list of "Quotable Quotations" about reading, and I couldn't help noticing how many of them use metaphor to compare books to other things. Because I have spent so much time reading books with the grandkids over the past eight years, I found these especially interesting, and here, right below one of our typical reading photos, I choose four of them to share with you.

 
According to a Chinese proverb, "A book is like a garden, carried in the pocket." What a great thought--that printed words are somehow like seeds that take root in fertile little minds. That the vitality of a writer's thoughts is something portable that can be worn on your person and go where you go.

This metaphor suggests that our time spent reading is an investment of sorts, with potential to grow beyond what we can imagine. No wonder Robert Louis Stevenson called his book of kids' poems A Child's Garden of Verses. I still remember "My Shadow" and "The Land of Counterpane," as seeds planted long ago in my own mind. I hope the time I spend with the kids in this little plot of land will someday come to similar fruition.

Garrison Keillor, of Lake Wobegon fame, claims that "A book is a gift you can open again and again." There is nothing children like more than presents. To think of a book as a gift is to acknowledge that it is something given out of love and with no expectation of reciprocity.

But a book is not the kind of thing that will break or run out of battery power. Unique among gifts, it has the potential to be opened numerous times and to offer a richness that only compounds with subsequent readings.

Who could be a better expert on the child audience than the great Walt Disney? "There is more treasure in books," he says, "than in all the pirate's loot on Treasure Island." Books become treasure chests, then, in Disney's view.

This is especially admirable coming from a man who made his fortune in the motion picture industry. But his comment here shows his understanding that, in order to have the movie, there must first be a story. Stories are treasures that we mine or discover with our kiddos when we read.  

For my last metaphor, I look to the great poet Emily Dickinson, who begins one of her poems with these lines: "There is no frigate like a book/To take us lands away." Here, a book becomes a vessel that transports us. It becomes a ship whereby we leave the land we know to sail to places of adventure and imagination.

A garden. A gift. A treasure chest. A ship. A book can be all of these things and more. I dearly love this time when the kids are all still young enough to want to help me plant seeds, unwrap presents, dig for treasure, and sail away.

I will close with a metaphor of my own: Books are boxes of Cracker Jacks. You open them to find things that can be sometimes sweet and sometimes nutty. But one thing is for sure: there is always a prize inside.