House of Flurfel recommends these Kelowna road-trip musts:
1) Hold your daughter in your arms while wracked with worry that her appendix is about to explode and then count the cherry pits in the cup holder beside her. 26 = a rite of passage; not a medical problem. We’ve all done it. Amiright?
2) Terrify your children by listening to Ogopogo monster “documentaries” on YouTube as you drive along Lake Okanagan. If you stop at a fruit stand, ask the cashier if she knows anything about the monster. If she says she’s never seen the monster but definitely has friends who say they have, ask her if her friends seem like reliable types. If she answers “sort of,” nod solemnly in plain view of your children.
3) Stop at a winery with your kids and find out it has brothel theme. Get the stink-eye from a couple there for being someplace inappropriate with children. Enjoy your glass of Gewurtraminer anyway. If your children notice you are quite relaxed on the patio over-looking the vineyard and take the opportunity to ask you about the cosmos, consider the time well-spent.
4) Learn a new constellation while star-gazing with old friends.
5) Start a blogpost on your iPhone using the WordPress App. Make sure the title promises a list of 10 things but don’t finish the list because it’s 39 degrees out and you’d rather go swimming. Publish it anyway.
If you check out the line-up for this year’s North Country Fair you’ll see Paper Wings Puppet Co. That’s us. We’ve got a gig. Papa Flurfel is starring as the Moosicorn in “The Moosicorn’s Tale.” There will be giggles. There will be uke. There will be a giant moth. There will probably be a giant moth. Follow our Paper Wings Puppet Co. blog for snapshots of what we’re up to. You can get a peek at Mordecai the Moosicorn there. I think he’s handsome.
Spring doesn’t photograph well at this latitude. Because it looks just the same as winter.
It feels different, but it looks just the same. The sun setting on an March day in the Edmonton River Valley:
Until this happens:
Pussywillows! Every year I snip a bouquet. Every year, my feet get soaked getting to them.
House of Flurfel
There are some angel voices that I can tune into when I need them: one is my beautifully accented yoga teacher saying, “Marlene, you are doing soooooar awehersome.” Another I’ve been summoning to get me through spring break with the kids:
We were at the City Hall, once upon a time, picking up a communities in bloom award for the community garden: so you’d think I’d be feeling all smug and self-righteous or something, but I’d just made my small children last through a lot of polite sitting and polite clapping and polite speeches about… I don’t remember. I remember the sound of their young, shrill voices bouncing through the glass pyramids, I remember the swivel of heads when my kids made noise at inappropriate moments (psssst… all the moments were inappropriate) and I remember the librarian-like frowns that the sudden and unpredictable movements they made were garnering from the crowd we were standing out in (pssst… all my children’s movements are sudden and unpredictable). Someone had given them plastic promotional toys, produced in China, that said something about conserving energy or some such, and they span around delightfully when you tossed them into the air on their way to quickly breaking and becoming trash.
“These are outside toys,” I insisted, but their counter-argument was to simply to take turns dashing under chairs and tables then throwing their spinners gleefully up into the glassy peaks while I wrestled the toy away from their sibling. By the time I had them all gathered up, children and toys, I was mortified and entirely certain that everyone was staring at me and wondering why my kids weren’t behaving like they do at the end of Nanny 911 episodes after they’ve been wisely bribed and properly threatened and smartly edited. I wanted out of that scene and into the open air. If I could just get from point A to point B without knocking over any displays about sustainability…
I was herding them through the gloom and the dour when an elderly man across the hall waved to me and made the international sign for “I need to tell you something.” I signaled back with the international sign for, “I’d love to hear you out but, gosh, we’re in a rush,” and he signaled back, “Don’t be silly, wait right there, I’m coming over now.” He must have been at least in his late nineties, and very slow to drag himself over after his walker, foot by foot across the vastness of City Hall. I considered dashing away, but my children’s habit of proceeding through a building in an… unlinear way made us even slower then the gentlemen. I braced myself for his arrival and the dispensing of his wisdom. I was pretty sure it would be something along the lines of, “Your children hurt my hearing aides,” or, “When we did things properly women just stayed home so children didn’t bother anyone,” or perhaps, “Ma’am, your children are bad because you aren’t even trying. You should try.” Oooooooh, that’s the worst. That really gets me. But he didn’t say that.
What he said, when he finally inched his way across the tiled floor, beckoned me closer with a bony, age-spotted finger, and held me with his glittering eye, leaning over his walker to speak, was:
“You want them lively like that. The ones that are dull in the eyes are no good.”
Remember that, now: You want ‘em lively like that. The ones that are dull in the eyes are no good.
Deconstructing stock photo images and satire.
Happy Lunar New Year. Predictions for the Chinese New Year promise a fast 364 at full-gallop, tail and mane aloft in a rush of speed. One of the reasons I adore Chinese New Year is because I’m slow. Or at least I’m aiming for slow. It’s a process, really, not something I could reasonably say I’ve achieved. In any case it takes a while after Jan 1st for me to reflect and ponder the whole “New Year” thing and by the time Chinese New Year rolls around I’m more or less ready with resolutions and resolves. Also, animal metaphors just work for me. They’re more meaningful than numbers. This year, the year of the horse, I’m focusing on the value of process over product. This year, I’m focusing on mindful. This year, I’m focusing on slooooooow. Or, I should say, doing things at the right speed, which is sometimes fast and sometimes slow.
Good-bye Year of the Dragon (2013). I very much enjoyed reading Cressida Cowell’s fantastic “How to Train Your Dragon” series to the kids — wonderful books. I very much appreciate all the beautiful flying creatures my kids have drawn for me this year, all the imaginary dragon’s eggs that have been sat on and hatched in forts and nests in my home this year, and the many conversations about the merits of, say, flame power vs. water power in respect to the fighting strength of dragons. The House of Flurfel has been full of dragons in 2013.
This winter in 2013 our baby turned 4, thus making us a baby-free household by this important standard:
If you aren’t familiar with this “no unhappy babies” symbol, it is on almost everything ever manufactured on this great Earth from toys to bicycles to pajamas to instruct watchful parents to keep said manufactured good away from their babies, lest the baby try to swallow the product whole, thus making the baby unhappy, possibly to the point of death. It seems to me that our world, albeit filled with dragons, became quite a bit calmer and less stressful as soon as those “no 0-3 warnings” became inapplicable to us. It seems to me that life is markedly easier when you don’t have to worry about someone swallowing your bicycle. Or lego. Or pebbles on the beach.
I have become three things in the year 2013 that I was not in the year 2012: An Ashtanga yoga do-er, a ukulele player, and a university instructor. I love all of these things, they have each transformed me, and it’s difficult for me to imagine myself without them now. Funny how that goes. A lot can happen in a year, day by day, increment by increment. Here’s to process; it’s a beautiful thing.
I am converting the room that was our nursery into office space. I’m taking it slow — first I repaired the drywall where the nursing rocker knocked so many little dents into the plaster. Now I’m painting over the “night fury” dragon that someone sketched on the wall with a Sharpie marker. It will take at least one more coat. Goodbye year of the Dragon. Hello year of the Horse. Horses run. Horses work hard when it’s time to work hard. Horses know how to lean into a job. Horses know how to enjoy a meadow full of flowers.
Dragons are lovely with their flight, their sheen, their speed and their tempers, especially when they’ve been tamed. I’m all for the Year of the Horse though. Horses don’t just gallop. They walk, trot, and canter too. They go the right speed.
Some mantras for Marlene: “This will take as long as it takes.” “We will get there when we get there.” “Breathe.” “Why does everyone get to go to Mexico except for me?” Oh wait, not that last one.
Here’s to ploddingness! Here’s to sniffing roses and munching on daisies! Here’s to things taking a while to sink in and to getting them just right! Here’s to process! Here’s to change! Happy Lunar New Year.
Partly in response to wellfesto.com’s 10 Things I Want my Daughter to Know about Working Out…
Reasons to bike commute to work in Edmonton in November/December/January/February/March:
And the kids are watching my every move…