Little Rabbit Foo Foo

On Monday a three year-old was singing music from Sunday church:

All night, all day
Angels bopping over me my Lord.

-------

I found a new way to get little kids to practice with scissors more than just making snips around the edges of a piece of paper. Because I am feeling magnanimous, I will share it, but you must be willing to make a complete fool of yourself.
1. Visualize a hula skirt.
2. Give the kids long pieces of scrap paper (about 18x6").
3. Don't give them the scissors yet.
4. Demonstrate the cutting of the paper (in this case to make a macaroni feather for Yankee Doodle's hat).
5. As you cut you must narrate, "Now I'm going to cut and cut and CUT and cut and cut and cut and CUT AND CUT and cutncutncut almost to the end".
6. Switch to your very best opera singer imitation and repeat step 5.
7. Switch to your cheatin' heart country western voice and repeat step 5.
8. Switch to your Mickey Mouse voice and repeat step 5.
9. Go into your tired Little Blue Engine voice and cut all the way to the top of the mountain so the boys and girls on the other side will have toys to play with and good foods to eat, and repeat step 5.
10. Pass out the scissors. [Make darn tootin' sure they are Fiskars, or else why bother?]
11. Fade into the woodwork and listen to little kids imitating your imitations as they cut that whole piece of paper...
12. ...and another one...
13. ...and beg for another...
14. Let them know how terribly sorry you are that you must collect the scissors so they can go home, but promise them in your Transylvanian accent that they vill get to cut again real soon!

Fries

Today a kid told me that he had gotten a flu shot, so his mom bought him a "nactivity scene". Is that the one with ninja turtle wise men?

Goober and Cletus have tried another exorcism of my Evil Blinker. $36 for the latest attempt, but $64 for the rental car. I am sad to say the Enterprise employees who helped me were May and December Texas university graduates. They asked if I wanted to supersize the compact car I rented.

Down and across

This Thanksgiving I am thankful for
Iago, Othello villain
Elon, N.C. college
Enid, Oklahoma city
Eli, Yalie
Edina, Minneapolis suburb
anil, indigo dye
Etta, James of jazz
tse, fly half
Ott, Giant legend
Alou, diamond family...

Without them what would crossword puzzles be?

With gratitude to Will Shortz and Maurice Chevalier.

Linky in love

I can't remember how that saying goes about being lucky in love, unlucky at cards... Anyway, with the help of my teen webkid, I have working links on my blog, not just dead ends.

Unlunky at cards?

Recipe for Seven Dollar Squash

Went shopping for the autumn still life, and I found a magnificent turban squash with a tangerine red bottom and lumpy dark green top. I snapped it up, along with eight severely varigated gourds, one basic acorn squash, two mini-pumpkins, and a six-pack of Indian corn. Got home and looked at the receipt. Damn yam and squishy furthermores! That magnificent turban squash weighed in at 5.15 lbs., and cost $1.49/lb.! Clearly, this was not a squash to be discarded at the end of the painting exercise. This was a squash with expensive tastes and powerful friends.

After trying to give the squash away to everyone at work, I hauled it home along with the other still life veggies. I explained the situation to Steven's lunch gang pals. One of the guys responded in that newly deep sixteen-year-old voice, "No vegetable is worth seven dollars!"

Days passed. I started hiding the gourds like Easter eggs, but without the plastic grass. A roving herd of high school juniors passed through long enough to ponder the Indian corn. They put an ear in the microwave, and lined up to watch the show. It wasn't as good as nuking marshmallow Peeps, but it was entertaining enough for two sequels.

Despite these diversions, the responsibility for the Seven Dollar Squash weighed heavier on me each day. I resolved that Friday I would bake it, feed it to the lunch gang, and be free, free, FREE! Ha-ah-HA-HA!

Upon carving the turban squash in two, I was relieved to find it was orange. Its power over me had grown to the point I expected cosmically-charged fluorescent pickle green. I scooped out its guts, but it still strove to lure me over to the Dark Side. I cut the halves into rough sections, and placed them in a Pyrex pan lined with foil (not a coffin of Transylvanian dirt). I gave each piece a pat of butter and sprinkled it lightly with ground cloves. I looked for the brown sugar in the cupboard, but could only find a lonely honey bear bottle full just to the knees and crystalized. [Parental warning: Open the lid of the bear bottle before nuking it for thirty seconds. Wear oven mitts to remove it from the microwave, then squirt it on the evil squash with vanquishing farting noises. Ignore all comments.] Cover pan with more foil. Place in preheated 350 degree oven and bake for two hours. That is when the high school gang arrives. Since I am my mother's daughter, the squash will not be tender at the appointed hour. It will still be hard as a rock. The teenagers will get off easy without having to consume the magic squash potion. They will not have to contend with Lewis Carroll and the Mad Turban.

I don my pale green pants, and holler, "Oh save me from this turban squash with honey bear inside it!" I bake and bake and bake this Seuss squash. I bake it, then I fridge it. There's nobody around to taste it, and I'm starting to hear voices of Gary Oldman, Vincent Price, and Bart Simpson taunting ... taunting. The hidden gourds are singing the "Oompa Loompa" song hour after hour in California raisin voices.

And then the Durst acquittal hits the news. I've already gutted the squash, cut it up in sections. Can I get away with dumping it in the bay? No. A Seven Dollar Vegetable Must Be Consumed. Clean your plate. There are starving children in China.

Morning dawns after yet another sleepless night. I know what I must do. I scoop the squash sections into a large bowl, and pour in the liquid from a small can of pineapple. I mash it up with the mixer. Put it in a well-greased baking dish. Sprinkle brown sugar (yeah, I know, it was just hiding behind that 1982 bottle of Karo syrup) liberally, and dot with more butter. Cover with foil again and bake at 325 degrees along with a nice rump roast. Make a colorful tossed salad, and some broccoli with cheese sauce for returning college students. The squash is vanquished. Viva le $7 vegetables!

I'm thinking about teaching figure drawing next...

Preparing for Thanksgiving

The preschoolers have really enjoyed having a autumn still life in the classroom, especially when I let them touch all the gourds, squash, pumpkins, leaves, and baskets. They have explained to me that I should put apples, little pumpkins, and "Vivian corn" in the "cornucoconut" for decoration.

Paintbrush envy

This update in the celeb gossip column--Maurice will be going back to France tomorrow because he received a recording contract! After hogging all the painting action in Intermediate Art today, Maurice, that skinny, pointy-haired paintbrush, has lit out for the falsetto big time. It's a good thing, too. Maurice's cousins here in TX, Fluffy and Muffy, were seriously miffed that Maurice was making kids forget to use big brushes for big jobs. Muffy had been handling the day-to-day paint jobs while big sister Fluffy had some R&R in Hawaii. You know--get a tan, put some space between you and the preschoolers, breathe the tempera flowing out and the watercolor flowing in. Most of the year Fluffy is in the trenches teaching small children not to use her like a mop, a toothbrush, (or a weapon), only to be cast aside unrinsed and unloved. Fluffy deserved a break, but had to rush back to entertain that pipsqueak visiting French cousin, Maurice. Muffy had hoped to be in charge much longer. Muffy is a mid-sized brush, not really ready for the big jobs, yet too pudgy for the fine details. As an apprentice to Fluffy, Muffy never gets the freebie tropical vacations, or the cutesy-wootsy preteen fan club of little Maurice. Who could blame Muffy for harboring those fantasies of plaster of Paris overshoes...

Scalpel

Steven was quite concerned to arrive home yesterday to find a large box marked Simon's Catfish Filets on the doorstep. Who could tell when UPS had delivered the catfish. The box could have been sitting there for hours on a rather warm afternoon. He stood next to me while I cut open the packing tape and took out all the filler paper. He was poised to flee, and possibly barf. The boy does not have a future in operating rooms or fisheries! I'm pleased, and he's REALLY pleased, to report we received our shipment of clear bags and boxes for our upcoming craft shows.

Seuss on the loose

"I was cutting through a neighborhood between the doctor's office and my precinct polling place, and I came to a big yellow sign that said, "HUMPS AHFAD". I was still thinking it must be one of the Islamic terrorists when I hit the darn speed bump. The brain is the first thing to go..."

I first had this experience in April of 2002, so was surprised to see that the sign is still scratched after a year and a half. Since then I have learned lots more about both dromedaries and Bactrian camels! "So if you like to go bump bump, just jump on the hump of the wump of Gump."

Baby You Can Drive My Car

Woke up to the ringing phone at 5:34. Cliff was giving Steven a wake-up call. Steven needed to drive Cliff to the DART station in order to use Cliff's van to drive to school and a zit dr. appt.

Had to drop my car off at the mechanic at 8:00. The circuit board replacement two weeks ago did not cure my manic depressive turn signal. Dropped the car off, then had a lovely walk home in the cool morning air, and felt virtuous about "exercising". Cleaned house a little, and prepared a delicious lunch for Steven's gang that comes here every Friday. I made a dozen giant turkey-bacon-tomato-swiss sandwiches on Kaiser rolls. (Now I'm wondering why I capitalized Kaiser, but not swiss!) There was a relish plate, chips, red grapes, ripe pears, and three kinds of mustard. I know, I know! My father, the Condiment King, would be embarrassed by such a small array. And also, there were Dreyer's fruit popsicles for dessert.

My friends of weememories.com were working at a craft fair. They called at noon to see if I was coming to visit them as I often do, and would I pick up fast food for them. Alas, I explained, I had no car, but I had a lunch and that's a start. So I made two box lunches, and Shawn drove over to pick them up.

Instead of the usual six teenagers, eight arrived. The band kids had early lunch for a change, but they had to do without cold Dr. Pepper. Eight sixteen year-olds fills this condo! They devoured all the food, wrote up a physics lab, discussed religion, world events, computer games, and people who drive them crazy at school. I kept out of the way by cutting out photos of eyes, noses, mouths, and ears from old magazines. All my students will be doing a face/mask unHalloween/Halloween project this week. It takes a lot of eyeballs.

Steven left school, drove to the zit dr., drove home, put coolant in his dad's smoking vehicle, and got changed for work. The mechanic called and said my car was ready. Steven dropped me off on his way to work. My car was not out front. The guy who isn't named Cletus, but should be, told me the guy who isn't named Goober called the wrong person and my car wasn't ready but would be shortly. I read magazines about bass fishing, hunting, and classic Chevys for 45 minutes, and started to wonder if the guy who isn't named Goober would actually finish it today. Darryl's other brother Larry told me that Goober had my car "fixed", but when Cletus drove it out front it got manic depressive again. Now Goober is going to have to order another circuit board, because the lights and the circuit board "aren't talking to each other". Okay, fine. I walked home again, home again, jiggity jig, with a ride from Shawn for the last leg.

The day vanished like the sandwiches, but moon-flowers are blooming on the patio. Have a good weekend, ladies and gentlemen.

Itsy Bitsy Irritations

My students have a new nominee for most annoying song to hear for two straight hours. It goes like this:

There's a spider on my head, on my head.
There's a spider on my head, on my head.
There's a spider on my head, and I wish that he was dead.
There's a spider on my head, on my head.

While we've been doing some very groovy art projects related to The Spider Weaver, by Margaret Musgrove, I won't have the strength to report on them until I de-web.

Jelly Avoids Recall: Strawberry Leads Charge

120 students cast votes in the 2003 Jelly Popularity balloting during the first part of October. Jelly-lovers beat bread purists by more than two to one. Strawberry beat its only major rival, Grape, by a Wonder Bread margin. Results show upstart squeeze-bottle jellies have loaves to go before they overtake traditional jar jellies, also known as "knife jellies".

During this time voters made still life artworks with an analogous color scheme, and explored color-mixing, transparency, translucency, and paint viscosity. That's really just a fancy way to say they had a fabulous time making gloriously goopy pictures, and pretending to paint with jelly, jam, preserves, and chutney. Materials included colored cellophane, tissue papers, crayons, and my own home brew of Pseudo Smucker Paint.

If you can't get enough jelly, read
Bread and Jam for Frances, by Russell Hoban. What goes into jelly anyway? Read Eating the Alphabet, by Lois Ehlert, and guess what would make good jelly. Yam jam?

Precinct results:

Jelly
Pro 85
Con 34

Jar/Knife 42
Squeeze 31

Flavor Favorites
Strawberry 31
Grape 23
Cherry 9
Raspberry/blueberry mix 5
Orange marmalade 4
"Goober" (PB & J mix) 3
Blueberry 3
Honey 2
Blackberry 1
Chocolate 1
"Plain " 1
Strawberry/banana 1

If you want to know how to mix jelly paints from grape to gooseberry, do contact nlrudr@peoplePC.com. You don't even have to send the million dollars. I would just spend it on scrambled eggs and toast, anyway.

Roses are red, white, and blue

Francis Scott Key is having a severe allergic reaction. Our Commander in Chief has written a poem to the First Lump. If it were hung on an art museum wall, many people would say, "My kid could do this!" They would be right. Still, I am glad that the Republicans have brought The Arts to the forefront of The Public Consciousness. Dubya has done for poetry what Arnold has done for politics--power in the wrong hands, and painful to hear.

Soon we will hear Lieberman playing "Chopsticks". I ask you, "Can Dean paint Elvis on velvet? Is he presidential?" Bush's GOP convention acceptance speech calling for An Aesthetics Administration will leave me wishing for the kissing Tipper. Can Ashcroft go the distance as the armless Venus de Milo?

Whistler's Mother

Came home from work, sat down and did the crossword puzzle, then went to sleep sitting up in the chair for about two hours. Now I'm so groggy, I can't do anything. This all makes me feel like such an old lady.

When I used to have to sell Camp Fire Girl candy around our neighborhood, I always dreaded going to one house. The woman who lived there taught sixth grade. I thought she was a million years old, but she was probably the age I am now. She would invite me in, offer me a chair in the living room, ask me about school, and fall sound asleep. I would just keep sitting there dressed in my Camp Fire uniform, white anklets, and saddle shoes, carton of candy boxes at my feet, afraid to move or sneeze, let alone sneak out the door. After an eon she would wake up, ask me a question about my family, and drift off again. It could take over an hour to sell her a two dollar box of chocolates.

Now that I think about it, maybe acting like I'm asleep might be a new approach to classroom management! Immobilize wild savages with my deep, even breathing...

Early poll exit interviews indicate a very conservative trend in the world of jelly. Non-jelly votes are almost equal to all jelly flavors together. In the flavor category, grape and strawberry have forced out most of the other candidates. Few indie jellies have turned up, although I thought I had some votes for "pumpkin jelly". Turned out that Welch's has some Halloween pumpkins and ghosts on the grape jelly glass. Some students think pink jelly is bubble gum flavor. Bubble gum preserves is a scary concept!

It is somehow reassuring to know that kids still drink out of jelly glasses. Alas, our childhood Welch's Flintstone glasses did not survive.

Election day at last

To coincide with the California recall, this was the beginning of the biennial Jelly Popularity Poll. Since kids age 3-8 influence the spending of billions of grocery dollars, the results should not be taken lightly. Students can vote No to jelly, or vote Yes for their favorite flavor. They may not vote for jello, non-fruit condiments, bodily fluids, or health/beauty products. If they vote for a flavor with a format choice, they may then choose between squeeze-bottle jelly, or traditional knife/jar jelly. The Supreme Court has ruled that the jelly election must include jams, preserves, chutneys, and marmalade options. Also, the Green Party has won two spots on the ballot with mint and jalapeno for the first time.

It could take up to two weeks for Al Franken and Mr. Peanut to certify the results. In the meantime, I will be reading "Bread and Jam for Frances" sixteen times, doing the voices for Father, Mother, Frances, Baby Gloria, and Albert.

Approximately 250 voters are registered, but it is unclear if this is a hot-button, get-out-the-vote issue. Some registered voters will be too busy playing with the new drinking fountain, or squirting all the liquid soap out of the restroom dispenser to state their choice. Fox News has dismissed the lead-up campaign as "just more fruits engaged in slimy behavior". The mainstream media has drowned the public in Lunchables coverage leaving it incapable of making its own sandwich, let alone its own mind.

I'll be mixing up many, many jars of liquid watercolors with glitter tempera and/or Elmers glue so we can paint with "jelly". We will squash down many pieces of irridescent, pink, and red cellophane on to the paint for "glass jars".

Do you feel under-represented in this fun? This is Texas, of course, and we can probably redraw your district. Jif and Wonderbread are calling your name...

If you would like to make the Jelly Poll a national plebiscite, or just need a Smuckerpaint recipe, please email a million dollars to nlrudr@peoplePC.com.

Oh, and it isn't really a good idea to pretend that colored chalk is eye shadow.

Current Mood: currant