In-A-Gadda_Da-Vida igloo

discombobulate (v.) 

1834, American English, fanciful coinage of a type popular then (originally discombobricate). Related: discombobulating; discombobulation.

Wikipedia does not mention the dance in the gym of Millard Lefler Junior High with the mirrored disco ball.  A local band covered "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" while students threw chunks of cake donuts at each other under a strobe light.

Only Yinks drink pink ink. The preschoolers practiced winks and blinks, and washed up after at the sink.  Not my best art project, since the straws kept falling off the paper, but hey, a Yink's gotta drink.  Dr. Seuss's One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish is full of practical hints for learning how to read,  to manage wet pets or an ink surplus.  It helped my kiddies learn about "ink".

Teaching beginning letter sounds is very fun! It's a matter of finding illustrations and teeny-tiny objects for each letter sound that a young child might recognize.

In the line-up of difficult initial letter sounds for preschoolers we have:

• Xx--xray ... and box and fox when you are totally exasperated
• Qq--queen quilt quarter quartz
• Uu--uncle umpire ugly umbrella
• Nn--nickel nut necklace
• and Ii--ink igloo insects iguana

Elementary art students liked the Yink's hairdo.

In related news

My grandbaby has conjunctivitis so I am learning all about pink eye variations.

Dallas Morning News columnist Steve Blow bemoans the demise of winking without an emoticon.

This being January, I don't have a nickel and a quarter to rub together.  Not so different from many Americans. "Affordable health care" is basically an ice pack, bandaids, generic vitamins, and a bottle of soothing pink Pepto Bismal.

Thanks to a 365 Project photographer I discovered the possibility of building an igloo out of plastic milk jugs--428 of them.  For many years my walking buddy and I have pondered the best options for living in a  cardboard refrigerator box under a bridge.  We've planned to weatherproof the box with hot pink and leopard print duck tape.  Now we are rethinking our retirement housing options! 

© 2012 Nancy L. Ruder

Thanks for all the frass

Whole lotta action on the patio!  It's a three-ring circus worthy of Sneelock, my spiritual advisor.


And just by the way of the way I'm okay today I say I'm very grateful for:

Play

And also:


To Dr. Seuss for the words and pictures.
To Dave Brubeck for the music.
To Cliff Hillegass for the roses, 
and Jerry Garcia for the rainbows.




To Ms. Janie and the other Ms. Janie for curiosity and compassion.
To the Woolly Mammoth for the macro world of digital photography.
To owls of Omaha, red-tailed hawks of Oklahoma, and the Allman Brothers for saving my life more than once.

To Gail Butt for rich, bright, and delicate.


To Dale and Norma for screened porch serenity, rope swing risk, sandbar simplicity, and fishing bobber patience.
To Bernd Heinrich and John Janovy for cosmic biology.
To Fritzi for the curse and gift of perfectionism.
To hummingbirds and anoles for joy.

This little anole is about 1/4 the size of that Giant Swallowtail caterpillar.  It is hopping from one mint leaf to the next, making the patio a tiny popcorn popper.





To Aunt Em for cursive perseverance.
To Coach for the opera backstage.
To Maurice Sendak and Pierre for care.
To Ms. Heather for wisdom and basil.
To Howie for graph paper and blue prints.


To all the red wiggler worms named Dave for taking it below ground.
To Juliet for being my artistic muse, O These Many Years.
To the Buick Skylark for hanging in there for 175,000 miles as my alter ego. I'd like to think it will emerge soon from its chrysalis transformed just like the caterpillars.

In all the whole world the most wonderful spot is right behind where you are in the big vacant lot. Clean up the cans!


It's a Barnum and Bailey world.  Grab onto the trapeze.




© 2012 Nancy L. Ruder


So long, and thanks for all the frass.

Recalcitrant with bur oaks

Standing in the middle of the preschool classroom pondering our students' future twenty years down the line, "recalcitrant" popped into my mind.  Didn't even know my slow mental search engine was seeking that word. True, I rarely realize my darn computer is searching the cosmos for updates or trying to run a comprehensive scan.  My computer's refusal to do my bidding is spreading to my head.

This group of  students doesn't so much kick (L. calcitrare "to kick," from calx (gen. calcis) "heel.") as push, distract, and wipe nose goobies on each other.  They stare at me unfazed no matter what, which is why I wonder, "Did I take my blood pressure Rx this morning?  Did I  pop the vitamin D, swallow the big horse pill calcium and multivitamin, and manage to not drop the tiny hayfever generic fake Claritin on the bathroom floor again?"  I'm getting too old to see a rosy future twenty years down the line.

Daily reviewing of calcium pill intake improved with beneficial fiber is Recalcitrant.  I could be the spokeswoman for this wonder supplement according to my ex.  Our relationship was already prickly that vacation on Galveston Island when he pronounced me "obstinate and recalcitrant".  I pronounced a dictionary a prerequisite for all future vacations.  "Obstinate" is easy to recall, but not so "recalcitrant".  

Obstinate is obviously an anti-osteoporosis med, or I've been watching way too much local t.v. news between five p.m. and six-thirty.  Ask your doctor if you may have low testosterone, chronic dry eyes, dry mouth, Frosted Flakes, insomnia, or marriage flashbacks.

As for the Brickel bush, I ran and found one, and hid myself away.  A Dr. Seuss Brickel bush looks a lot like this bur oak nut-cap photographed out at Oak Point Nature Preserve recently.  I got brickels in my britches, but I stayed there anyway.  


One student has lots of splinters in her hands.  She has been digging in the new layer of playground wood chips.  Maybe that's not the best idea. Should the school have to eradicate every potential source of splinters?  Perhaps that is the Rx in our current litigious educational climate.

Once upon a time in a city park a little girl rolled down a hill in the crunchy grass of autumn.  Prickleburs covered every square inch of the little girl by the time she reached the bottom of the hill.  Her dad scooped her up in his arm and set her in the '54 Chevy and drove her straight home.  Once there, she sat atop the tall metal Cosco stepstool/chair while her mother and dad pulled the pricklebur splinters out of her skin with tweezers while she sat very, very still.  


Was there a lawsuit?  Did the little girl ever do that diggity-dog dumb thing again?

recalcitrant 

1823, from Fr. récalcitrant, lit. "kicking back" (17c.-18c.), pp. of recalcitrare "to kick back," from re- "back" (see re-) + L. calcitrare "to kick," from calx (gen. calcis) "heel." Used from 1797 as a French word in English. Verb recalcitrate "to kick out" is attested from 1620s; sense of "resist obstinately" is from 1759.--Now flavorless and easily dissolved ....

obstinate 

mid-14c., from L. obstinatus "resolute, inflexible, stubborn," pp. of obstinare "persist, stand stubbornly, set one's mind on," from ob "by" (see ob-) + stinare, related to stare "stand," from PIE base *sta- "to stand" (see stet). Related: Obstinately.

© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder

Sore muscles from ...

...sewing!  Finally finished the comforter/quilt for Dad today, and glad to check that off my Big List.  Spent much of the the day rassling the bulky project around the needle of my little sewing machine.

Be clear, dear reader, this was not wrestling, a sport where varsity and JV teens of assorted bulks in silly uniforms turn red and pin each other to mats for black and white yearbook photos.

Indeed, this was a primitive tussle with a grizzly-ghastly, not a sport.  When I walked into Dad's room he was wearing a teal green sweatshirt, a diaper, and some puke yellow crew socks.  He had thrown off his blankets and was trying to get his waxy, skinny legs out of bed.  "Out" and "off" were muddled in his brain.  He wanted the tv off and the sweatshirt off, therefore he needed to get out of bed.

This sewing was rassling, but I got a hold on it.  The comforter is finished.  Dad seemed interested in the new visual stimulation.  Being done with the project is helping my muscles relax.

ras·sle  (rsl)

intr. & tr.v. ras·sled, ras·sling, ras·sles Nonstandard

To engage in wrestling or wrestle with.

© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder

Bring the Caddie around

Dad had a haircut Monday.  That meant he had to don pants to ride in his wheelchair to the onsite beauty shop. That took a lot out of him as did seeing his reflection in the big mirror. It has been a couple months at least since he had that experience.  His hair is still a lovely billowing white straight out of a milkweed pod.

The chaplain called me Thursday, just delighted with himself  now that Howie listens to Psalm 23, mouths the words to the Lord's Prayer, and says "thank you" out loud.  Chaplain Bob spoke to Dad about heaven this week, and about how the Lord has a house there for Howie to live forever. I hope the Lord has doors on the bathrooms. 




Friday evening Dad was all scratched up.  The nurse and I worked together to cut his fingernails.  Next time I will bring Madge and her dishwashing liquid for a soak.  Those nails were shooting around the room like shrapnel.


Spent an emotionally and physically exhausting hour with Dad Saturday. Found him half off the bed.  Went to find help, and we got Dad situated back in bed.  The nurse said Dad had been agitated all day. Wondering if the pants are the mischief makers. I explained to the weekend team that they do not need to dress Dad in pants since he never gets out of bed. Pants are a lot of extra work, and maybe the pants make Dad think he is going somewhere.


I got Dad sitting up in bed enough to feed him.  All he wanted to do was point at the window.  I closed the blinds because of the glare.  I reopened them.  Raised them.  Lowered them.  Nothing was right for Dad.

He had some chicken broth, coffee with milk through a bendy straw, potatoes, applesauce, and something that might have been quiche. After the usual round of coughing, Dad started saying "first floor windows".  I raised the blind and pointed out the day care center, the other senior home, the cars in the parking lot.  He started getting out of bed again.  I put him back in twice more.  He was holding my hand so tight he was crushing my fingers.

Dad told me to "drive the Cadillac up."  Then I was to boost him out the first floor window into the Caddie.  

Right!  Right, as Bill Cosby would say to God, what's a cubit?  What Caddie? 

We went round and round about this.  I told Dad I would not open the "first floor window", and encouraged him to get ready for sleep.  He kept pulling himself half out of bed.  I kept putting him back in.  Took the darn pants off, then his shirt, and dressed him in his hospital nightgown.  Kissed his forehead and told him "nighty night".  






Dad was still ordering me to open the window.  Finally told him if he was going out the window he would jolly well have to do it himself because I was going home.  I briefed the weekend supervisor.  She asked where Dad thought he would go once he got out the window.  I told her I blamed it on Chaplain Bob talking to Dad about heaven.  Howie is either going to fly out the window with angels or take the highway to hell.  It says right there in my owner's manual that you can't drive a 1996 Buick Skylark to either extreme.



Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death from near to far, I would rather take a car!

© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder

Aerial Zucchini Circus

Of course he won't mind
When he finds that he has
A big circus behind.*

Ms. Sneelock reporting in on my big circus behind.

Okay, not that big of a behind, and a pig is not really a circus performer. The circus out back is more of a high wire act with leaping lizards and dueling hummingbirds. It's a Barnum and Bailey backyard.

Thank heaven for the three ring diversion.  This circus puts on a show every evening when I get home after work and spoon-feeding my father's supper.  Dad's decline is slow, variable,  insistent.

Life in the patio circus is speeding-bullet fast.  I transition from letting go at a snail's pace to grabbing on like lightning.

A single zucchini seed sprouted in an old Rubbermaid tub filled with good dirt.  With amazing speed the vine climbed the tomato cage nearby and began its aerial feats.

Moving past the tomato cage, it climbed a pepper plant, but kept reaching further.  I plunked a garden stake in a pot of basil.  The zucchini tendrils grabbed on.  Another stake in the marigold pot, and more tendrils grabbed for the glory.  Nearly every day, I move a pot into position, add a stake or two, and before I can say, "Ringling Brothers," the tendrils have twined around the stakes.  One of these evenings I'll surely spot a trapeze act between the stakes and vines.

In the meantime, there's a cute little insect who thinks he's a mountain goat yodeling around the zucchini blossoms. AND, the lizards are leaping! There may even be a baby zucchini in the future.

 

*If I Ran the Circus, by Dr. Seuss.








© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder

Trees in bloom, and in knits

Maybe this is an April fools joke, or perhaps somebody at the Woolie Ewe yarn shop had too much coffee.  Either way, it was an eye-catching sight in the grocery parking lot.  When I jumped out of the Buick to take some photos, a man obligingly moved his pick-up truck.  First he asked, "Are those supposed to be upside down pants?"  Might be Dr. Seuss's pale green pants with just a tree inside them.














This azalea is a quinceanera tree.  Well, not really, but the blooms look like the gowns of sweet fifteen years olds having portraits made in the gardens of the Dallas Arboretum.  Usually the gardens are full of photo entourages in wedding attire, but Sunday it was the quinceanera photo crowd.  The gowns tended toward magenta or purple, shaped like a doll cake.  Caught in the wind, the full skirts rang like Disney Fantasia flower bells.  The bodices usually laced in the back.  Matching flowers and tiaras had to be carted around in boxes and bags in the drizzle.  The completed looks lost something as the bare-shouldered honorees had to be wrapped in whatever blanket was in the trunk of the car.

The Arboretum's azalea vale was a flood of color.  I was surprised by the orange and yellows.

This might be wisteria.

The hawk was mysteria wistifed, sitting in this tree in the parking lot after an unsuccessful chase of a smaller bird.













For a joke today, it should get up to eighty-five degrees.  Have to turn off the furnace AGAIN. 

Happy April!





© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder

Cougar in pale green pants

I had to do an errand, and at least the sun was out.  Thought I'd visit a park in Addison on my way to Lakeshore Learning.  Winnwood Park and White Rock Creek Trail are just south of Beltline and Jake's Burgers.   

Winnford Park has a nice gazebo and a pond with ducks, but no parking.  I had to park at the Town of Addison Finance Office.  It's almost like the public isn't invited to the public park.  There's no map at the Town website, so take a big piece of paper and crayon to make a rubbing of this map in the sidewalk near the gazebo:
 
Winnwood Park connects (if you can find it) to the White Rock Creek Trail.  If you get mildly lost you will wander into a neighborhood where every house probably has you on its security camera.

I met a woman walking two large, lean hunting machine dogs.  She told me the dogs were ranked the top of their line.  I'm sure they were fabulous animals, but their color reminded me of Swiss Miss hot cocoa mix powder.  The woman told me she wouldn't walk her dogs on the trail "in the forest" because of the cougar.

Cougar?  Isn't that slang for an older woman chasing younger men?  Would there be desperate housewives wearing thongs in the forest?

"The forest" was a narrow shaggy fringe on the bank of White Rock Creek.  The trail was an easy, wide sidewalk.  On the other side of the sidewalk from "the forest" were mighty large and lovely homes.  The woodpeckers and chickadees weren't impressed.

Didn't spot a cougar, or even a bobcat, so I didn't have to hide in a brickel bush.  The concept of cocoa mix was more dangerous.  I did see how White Rock Creek got its name, with the tall banks of white chalk.

 


And, yes, I had to buy cocoa mix after the invigorating walk.


© 2010 Nancy L. Ruder

I yink therefore I yam

 Drained of pink ink, my Canon printer hollered for more.  8 Magenta!  Need more 8 Magenta!!  I could have had a V-8, but instead I jumped in the Buick to buy pink ink.



Grabbed the 8 PM Pixma (photo magenta) refill at Office Max on my way to downtown Dallas for the symphony.  Came home still under the spell of Ravel's "La Valse" and ripped open the new cartridge.  Popped it into the printer and got WARNING WARNING DANGER DANGER messages with flashing lights.  Darn, but it likes to wink and blink!  I really need to print, but I think it's too late to buy the right 8 Magenta ink. 

© 2010 Nancy L. Ruder

Subtraction

How would life in the U.S. today be different if __________?
 
It's an interesting game to play, particularly on this ninth anniversary of 9/11.  Life in the U.S. and around the world would be very different.  Religious tolerance would still be an issue, but so many lives would be changed.  What if we could subtract the source of that chronic low-grade anxiety?

How would my life be different if I hadn't become a mother to Jeff, Mike, and Steven?  Just posing the question places a weight upon my chest.  Subtracting that joy is almost unimaginable.

How would my life be different if Dr. Seuss was subtracted?  Theodor S. Geisel created so many joys for children.  I carry in my mind an image of the Cat in the Hat juggling the fish in the pot every single day when I walk into work.  Life is juggling.  Sometimes the jugglees talk back like the fish.  Put me down, put me down, said the fish in the pot. 

When I supervise the three year olds on the playground slippery slide, I channel Brave Sneelock risking life on his patented life-risking track.  When a student won't speak up with a question, I wonder about the Whos down in Whoville.



And when this insect rode all the way to work on the top of my car, it seemed pretty unbeweevilable.  Hard to believe a real-life insect as weird as a Dr. Seuss creature, but true.



© 2010 Nancy L. Ruder

Hummus phobia overcome

It's only the third of January, but I've already added my new food of the year. Cue the theme song from "Chariots of Fire"! I've overcome my terror of hummus.

Running in cinematic slow motion through the Kroger olive bar to get some roasted red peppers (domestic), then down the canned beans aisle to get the chickpeas, I'm feeling the burn. Thank heaven I already had the cream cheese, olive oil, garlic clove, lime juice, and paprika, so I sprinted toward the tape.

The Woolly Mammoth tried to convert me to hummus in '08. "Until I know what's in the stuff, I'm not going there," I said. It took an interview with Nigella Lawson on NPR to convince me hummus might actually be edible if I made it myself.

And, oh, it is so good I say on Triscuits and boats and planes and trains! That Sam-I-Am is doing high fives and cartwheels at the finish line.

Next up--A friend believes kale is edible. Yeah, right.

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Cupcake destickification

Miss Inez Baker would never have allowed it. The purpose of school is education, she would have explained. Birthday parties are not a function of education. The realm of education does not encircle frosted cupcakes. Amen!

I do wish the former principal of Eastridge Elementary School could have been in command this week. Three preschoolers were celebrating their birthdays. Three days parents sent hyper-iced cupcakes. Three days we dealt with stickiness and post-pastry crabbiness.

A cupcake is a nice thing to share for a birthday. At your home. Or your neighborhood park. Or roller rink. Your swim pool is good. Kids can jump in and wash off.

At school kids can't jump in and wash off. There are no fire hoses to spray down the classroom after two dozen preschoolers have sensory cupcake experiences. Cupcakes are the birthday equivalent of Dr. Seuss's Oobleck.

Let me enumerate the ways that preschoolers consume frosted cupcakes at school although they surely eat like little ladies and gentlemen at home:

1. The Face Plant is a technique for smashing one's face full-contact down into the frosting until hitting the cake layer. Danger of suffocation noted.


2. The I Want To Go Play Now method requires stuffing the entire cupcake into one's mouth. It usually leads to a prolonged period of sitting in one's chair until chewing and swallowing are completed.


3. Paper And All is for bold, yet undiscriminating eaters. Like my grandma who ate the tails of shrimp at Norfolk's Broasted Chicken restaurant, eaters are not deterred by a bit of roughage.


4. You Got Chocolate, But I Got Vanilla--nothing gets past these observant preschoolers. They also notice that you got a Disney Ariel Mermaid ring in your frosting, but they got Mulan. There is a circle in hell reserved for parents who send a mixed batch of decorated cupcakes to school. Just ask Disney Dante. The darn rings must be exhumed from the frosting, washed, and dried, then distributed. Nobody wants the princess they were dealt in the luck of the draw.


5. Total Paralysis occurs in children who are terrified of getting something on their fingers. They cannot remove the paper muffin cup from the cupcake. They cannot pick up the cupcake. They cannot pass Go or collect $200.


6. Circuitous Nibbling is for children who can remove the muffin cup, but want to eat the cake part in a revolving manner while getting the frosting stuck on their nose. This method reaches an inevitable infrastructure cave-in. Preferred by future geologists.


7. The Smear Campaign is a share-the-wealth policy of some students who manage to spread their frosting largesse onto an amazing number of classmates and teachers. They will be the glad-handing politicians of the future.

Should your preschool child have an approaching birthday, please invest in a mini-muffin pan or a shaped cookie cutter. The teachers will love you!

Good birthday classroom snacks:

• Mini blueberry, cranberry, or banana muffins


• Cheese cut in shapes, with pretzels and an apple slice


• Oatmeal raisin or ginger snap cookies


• Two graham crackers with frosting in between


• Fresh fruit kabobs


• Apple juice with fresh-popped popcorn


• Unsalted blue corn chips and slices of bell pepper


• Toasted English muffin quarters spread with peanut butter or honey


• Very small servings of fresh fruit smoothie


• Trail mix with seeds, pretzels, raisins, and about 2 M&Ms per child


• Something you grew in your home garden

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Von't you be my neighbor?

"Boys and girls," Mr. Rogers would ask, "can you say, 'Vlad the Impaler'?" He would untie his shoes and put on his slip-ons, then tie that black batwing cape around his neck. Slipping the plastic fangs he got trick-or-treating last Halloween into his mouth, Fred would gradually morph into Vincent Price before sprinkling vishvood in the vishtank.

It's a beautiful night in this neighborhood,
A beautiful night for a neighbor,
Vould you be mine?
Could you be mine?

It's a neighborly night in this beautywood,
A neighborly night for a beauty,
Vould you be mine? Could you be mine?
...

Von't you please,
Von't you please,
Please von't you be my neighbor?

Spoken: Hi television neighbor, I'm glad we're together again.... Tonight we are going to play vindow viper, and vipe your vindows!"

Vell, not exactly, but I am looking forward to Texas Ballet Theatre's "Dracula" with crypt-chilling music by Liszt, choreography by Ben Stevenson, and danced in the incredible Bass Hall in Fort Worth. A ballet with sleeping beauties, but no fairy wings sounds qvuite intriguing.

Any vampire vindow viper dancing around here vill have to sleep in the vorm bin, as I have no Transylvanian dirt. I've got a bottle of Vindex ready, though. Next time I read One Fish Two Fish I'll use my vampire voice.







© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Kibitz and Kaboodlniks

The elementary students are learning a new card game by the makers of UNO, called Kaboodl. The game has k'bosh and k'baam cards, and apparently quite a bit of strategy. I got confused just listening from the other end of the play room, but occasionally was able to offer up unhelpful comments!

Mostly, I started wondering how k'bosh is usually spelled, and where the word originated. From there on, a thick cover of alien vines began to grow all over my mind. Would I be able to get home to my trusty dictionary before I went kaput?

"Here I come to save the day," as Andy Kaufman might sing. Dictionary Woman is on the way!

• kibosh is a restraint or check, used primarily in the phrase put the kibosh on, similar to quietus [origin unknown]
• kaboodle is actually caboodle, and means the lot, group, or bunch. Used chiefly in the phrase the whole kit and caboodle. [perhaps ca-, probably short for kith or kit + boodle.]
• boodle is slang for money, especially counterfeit money, or money accepted as a bribe. Boodle can also be stolen goods; swag. [From Dutch boedel, estate, effects, from Middle Dutch bodel, riches, property...]
• kith Friends and neighbors, as opposed to kin.
• kit... among many definitions a container such as a box, bag, valise, or knapsack.... [Middle English kytt, kitt, wooden tub, from Middle Dutch kitte, jug, tankard.] So on that note, let us lift one! This can't get much more muddled.
• kibitzer 1. An onlooker at a card game who gives unwanted advice to the players. 2. Any meddler who offers gratuitous advice.
• kibitz To act as a kibitzer. [Yiddish kibitsen, from German kiebitzen, to look on, from Kiebitz, lapwing, plover, hence a meddlesome person, looker on (at a card game), from Middle High German gibiz, plover (imitative of its cry).]
• killdeer a widespread and familiar American plover.

• kibbutz a collective farm or settlement in modern Israel [Hebrew from qibbetz, he gathered]
• kibbutznik a member of a kibbutz
• Kibbles 'n Bits a dry dog food made by Del Monte.
• kibble coarsely ground grain in the form of pellets (as for pet food); coarsely ground foodstuff; especially seeds of various cereal grasses.
• quibble To make exaggerated distinctions or raise objections to the unimportant details of a thing in order to avoid acknowledging its worth or importance.

"Shish," you are probably saying as you raise your hand to object to all these unimportant, yet intertwined details.

• kebab see Shish kebab A dish consisting of pieces of seasoned meat roasted and served with condiments on skewers. [Turkish sis , skewer + kebap roast meat]
• kaput destroyed; wrecked [German kaputt, from French capot, as in the expression etre capot, to have lost all tricks at cards, "be hoodwinked," from capot, cloak with a hood, from cape]*
• kaboom an exclamation representing an explosive sound or event [I'm embarrassed to admit I couldn't find an origin]

• kudzu a vine, Pueraria lobata, native to Japan having compound leaves and clusters of reddish-purple flowers and grown for fodder and forage, and known as an ECOLOGICAL THREAT. Kudzu kills or degrades other plants by smothering them under a solid blanket of leaves, by girdling woody stems and tree trunks, and by breaking branches or uprooting entire trees and shrubs through the sheer force of its weight. Once established, Kudzu plants grow rapidly, extending as much as 60 feet per season at a rate of about one foot per day.

Kaboodl is suitable for 2 to 6 players age 7 and up.



*And now here is a Hoodwink
Who winks in his wink-hood.
Without a good wink-hood
A Hoodwink can't wink good.
And, folks, let me tell you
There's only one circus
With wink-hooded Hoodwinks!
The Circus McGurkus!

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder