Scarborough Fair

If you pass by me today and get an uncontrollable urge to joust, devour roasted turkey legs, or weave daisies into a chain, I take no responsibility.  Paco handed me a pint Mason jar while I was showering and asked me to rinse my hair in its brown contents.  THAT is why I will smell aromatic, and THAT is why you may suddenly imagine yourself at a renaissance fair!

"Rosemary and thyme have been used for centuries to darken hair and keep it soft and silky.  They also have natural antiseptic properties, which give this rinse the added bonus of keeping your scalp healthy and clean.  After several uses, you will notice the results.  Herbal rinses need to build up over time, but the advantage is that your hair will darken subtly and naturally."

I'm not sure I need to darken my hair. Black to blacker?  But one should never look down one's nose at soft and silky.  He got this recipe from a Mother Earth News source and steeped it overnight on the kitchen counter.  I'm a willing guinea pig, but I'm all but certain the next rinse he's contemplating will be infused in vinegar.  Croutons, anyone?  But then it promises "shine"...

In the meantime, I'm going to lace up my bodice, plait my hair with pansies, and grab my mandolin.  See you at the fair!

Friendly Persuasion

Most mornings I awake to somebody twanging about lost love, or Red Solo Cups, or Tijuana Brass on the clock radio.  This morning was a soul-warming exception.  Instead I got Pat Boone crooning in his buttery voice these lyrics from my ALL-TIME FAVORITE movie, Friendly Persuasion, from the book by the same title:

Thee I love, more than the meadow so green and still
More than the mulberries on the hill
More than the buds on the May apple tree, I love thee
Arms have I, strong as the oak, for this occasion
Lips have I, to kiss thee, too, in friendly persuasion
Thee is mine, though I don't know many words of praise
Thee pleasures me in a hundred ways
Put on your bonnet, your cape, and your glove
And come with me, for thee I love
[Instrumental Interlude]
Friendly persuasion
Thee is mine, though I don't know many words of praise
Thee pleasures me in a hundred ways
Put on your bonnet, your cape, and your glove
And come with me, for thee I love.

This delightful movie chronicles the struggle a southern Indiana Quaker family experiences when Civil War skirmishes strike close to their farm.  The son, a non Psycho Anthony Perkins, wrestles with his conscience and his conscientious objection religion.  Promise me you'll get it and watch it.  Then sashay down to your library and get the book, written by Jessamyn West, a cousin of Richard Nixon and a Quaker herself.  Read ALL her books while you're at it!  Especially Cress Delehanty.  I think I could be a Quaker.  If I was looking for a religion...I like the peaceful premise which translates into such peaceful pronouns.  P.S.  Good friend Scott sang this at the little reception following our wedding.  That is a good memory.

Ode to Paco

Paco and I are approaching our 15th anniversary. That may not sound like much to seasoned veterans of marriage.  But rather than lament about that, we've chosen to celebrate in grand fashion--more on that later, AND it will come with an ALERT because you may run screaming from the computer, "I HATE THE HADD'S!!!!!  I'm pausing to make a list of 60 marvelous magical things of a Paco-vian nature:

•  keeps the home fires burning literally (we heat partially by woodstove)
•  scrubs the kitchen floors
•  is the master of uber intelligent conversation (I maintain that he's the smartest person in the whole gosh darn state...)
•  does the wash
•  womps up some pretty mean French dishes
•  walks the dog
•  pays the bills
•  never EVER complains when I take off for a night, day, week, month...
•  will go to the temple with almost no notice at all
•  disposes of mice
•  fathers 9 alpacas
•  calls his mother every week
•  brings flowers on occasion (in the first 5 years of marriage when he had ready access to fresh flowers in Penn Station he brought them WEEKLY!)
•  attends school board meetings just for fun and makes wry remarks to people around him 
•  is my live-in substitute teacher ( LURVE this one!)
•  brings me breakfast EVERY single day
•  warms up the bathroom for me to take a shower
•  delivers anything I ever forget to my school
•  goes on provisional shopping trips
•  sews sleeping bags, backpacks, and polar fleece items
•  does copious amounts of internet research on a topic I might just casually mention AND binds  it into ready reference books (I'm not making this up!)
•  maximizes EVERYTHING i.e. vacation plans etc. When you travel with him you accomplish 3 times what a tour agency would squeeze in.  He's phenomenol at planning.  Masterful
•  takes on about 95% of the cooking and dishwashing
•  mends
•  irons
•  does the yardwork
•  paints inside and out
•  makes exotic homemade soaps for special romantic gifts
•  is always on time
•  makes the most delectable boules (French peasant breads with only yeast, flour, salt, and water) to eat with his amazing soups
•  keeps trim and fit
•  gives me lots of good belly laughs...very cerebral sense of humor.  Not much on frivolity.
•  untangles all my technology snafus
•  loves to invite people over and cook for them
•  maintains a cool new website
•  gives great backrub "treatments" to Mugsy and me
•  loves to soak in the bathtub (his one self indulgence)
•  reads any and every book about Roosevelts
•  can't get enough of Downton Abbey
•  is very very content
•  delights in surprising me with all manner of things
•  loves to haul hay to our animals on his little blue tractor
•  bears no malice for anyone--unlike the shrew he married
•  home teaches religiously
•  does carpentry work around the house upon request
•  loves to tote around a large backpack whenever we go anywhere and gets giddy if he has something in it that you ever actually need!  He used to "backpack" across Time Square in a suit when he worked in the city.  Very distinguishable among the throngs.
•  loves to pour over seed catalogs and Mother Earth News.  I think it surprises even him that deep down inside him was a Granola!!
•  gives conference-worthy talks!!!  Really he does.
•  is the BEST teacher.  When he got released as gospel doctrine teacher in Princeton, some friends of ours wore black armbands in protest!
•  watches Perry Mason ad nauseum
•  talks to himself even when I'm around--it's his method of problem solving from politics to sociological concerns
•  swings an ax like Paul Bunyan and amasses an incredible amount of firewood every fall
•  teaches me French children's songs
•  strums a mean guitar (and supposedly banjo too, although I've yet to confirm that.  He may be a closet one of those.)
•  mimics some people perfectly, although he'll deny that and won't do it publicly
•  perfect griller
•  surprises me--I came home to jumbalaya tonight!!!  A first!
•  sings duets with me
•  has read the Harry Potter books all through 4 times
•  loves Mad

"And now a word from our sponsors..."

In the last 48 hours I have had two separate in-depth conversations about black salve.  If your curiosity is piqued and you're sprinting to Google, please do so on an empty stomach, preferably alone.  The world of black salve is not pretty.  The first conversation took place at Elisa's. Her father is an old beau of my sister, and her grandfather was my 6th grade teacher who taught me how to play the harmonica.   Both her father and grandfather fought and are fighting cancer.  (aside if I may--During my sixth grade year Mr. Rigby--the grandfather--faded out for cancer treatment and left a pretty young Quaker gal as the sub for about 4 months which is another story).  Last week her father began applying black salve to a skin cancer behind his ear.  Picture a gob of tar.  As she described it, "A round tumor with legs was drawn out."  They put that sucker in a jar...well, I should hope so.  The resulting hole is now knitting back together.  Which leads me to my next conversation which took place at knitting.  One of the knitters works for a chiropractor who makes this stuff--very very carefully because black salve CAN go wrong--awfully dreadfully wrong--and remove entire noses or ears!!!  I KNOW!!!!!  And I'm not through!!!!!!  Yesterday I came home to a huge box from the San Francisco Herb Co. on the counter.  Paco's been pouring over books in bed every night--natural tinctures and salves, herbal remedies.  The box that arrived held bags of dried herbs--calendula, comfrey to name a few.  Brown bottles too of "essences" he says.  I haven't had a chance to grill him, but  the thoughts of scaring up some salves and potions is inevitable.  We'll need some boils and festulas to practice on, so hopefully you'll all pitch in there.  In the event that this all leads to black salve, run like the wind...

Brutally Honest, 3:28 A.M.

I'm thinking that 60 is going to buy me some license--maybe license to dress outlandishly (or outlandishliER) or wear slippers in public.  At the very least, perhaps the license to be more forthcoming with my opinions awaits me.  On the eve of my 59th year and 12th month, I bring you (drumroll...) a never before viewed or voiced list of confessions and opinions---unsolicited, unexpurgated, unedited:

• I don't like to babysit anyone I'm not related to.  I watch the clock pretty much the whole time.

I did NOT accidentally drop and shatter my glasses in the bathtub as I was cleaning it when I was 12.  I threw them down in a fit of anger and rebellion.

I am a shy introvert.  Everything that you have seen or may see is a huge huge effort learned over the years.  I prefer to be alone. 

That Subaru incident in Texas in 1982...I DO know how that dent happened.  It was a tree.  I was backing.

I threw a rocking chair at my last missionary companion.  Fortunately she understood and started me on some needlepoint the next day. 

I did pick up change around the house and buy copious amounts of candy which I hid when I was an adolescent.  I'm so ashamed of that, but it feels good to get it out now.

I forgot to vote once.

I don't like carrot pudding, but because it was a family recipe and was made out of love, I pretended to think it was fabulous.

I attend meetings, but I do so grudgingly.

I am never really happy unless I'm planning a trip, taking a trip, or thinking about the trip I just took.

The odder the person/kid the more I like them.

I got the uncontrollable giggles in the temple once.

I think about death.  A lot.  It doesn't scare me.  I would so like to be on the other side.  If that happens to me, be calm.

Before life kicked me around I was more funny.  I'm hoping that comes back when I'm resurrected.

My natural state is not orderly.  I like interesting piles around me.  That is a war I continue to fight.

I've done my very best teaching based on a lesson plan I thought up that day in the five minute drive to school.   Flies in the face of most of what I've been taught in universities. 

I've never really told anyone the WHOLE story about some of my life's drama...and I probably won't.

I am still keeping some dark secrets someone confided to me in the 90's.  I wish I could forget.

I once had a stake president I didn't like at all.  There.  That's out.  Didn't like his wife either. 

I don't buy generic. 

I don't like to hike up mountains.  I like meadows or level hiking in high altitudes or circumventing lakes.

Small yippy Mexican dogs...not even

I once took an oath (during a bizarre little ceremony we dreamed up--candles--)with some freshman roommates that I wouldn't kiss until I got married.  I kept that for about 4 years, and I so regret it.   It made for interesting date conversation, but I should have grabbed a few more kisses!  (I haven't mentioned this for 40 years!!)

I don't like breaded fish.  Why do I continue to eat it?

Beaches don't do much for me.  Sand repulses me.  Swimming suits have NEVER fit.  I've always felt set apart from the rest of the world who appears beach-crazed.  I like lakes, but oceans are just plain scary.  Deep, dark...

I get annoyed EVERY time the phone rings.  EVERY time.  That doesn't mean I don't like to talk.  But when it rings...I feel anxious.

Now I'll end with an opinion.  I'm glad my religion's culture is not the same thing as the religion.  Have a smashing day.

Tatching a Toad??

Today felt a little like spring.  Before anyone runs out and fills up the wading pool, I hasten to add that spring in Brrrrrrr Lake would be winter to many of you.  But we take our perks where we can nowadays.  Except for New Year's Day when the angel of death tap danced on my stomach all day, I have not even had a sniffle.  A friend, however, was complaining about a cold coming on today.  I couldn't help but rush in all Jewish-mother-ish and give her my favorite remedy.  This advice came to me via a Hungarian piano professor, Gyorgy Sebok, at Indiana University about 30 years ago.  He picked it up in Japan.  When you feel cold symptoms coming on, ask someone to hold both of your elbows in one of his hands.  Just one.  Either your right or left elbow will feel colder to the touch.  Once your elbow holder friend has decided which of your elbows is colder (and believe me one WILL feel colder), plunge that elbow in warm warm water and hold it there for a bit.  And that's it.  I double dog dare you to give it a try.  Then I'll tell you my favorite hiccup cure.  Deal?

Serendipity!

I was leaving the public library yesterday--almost out the door--when this book jumped out at me from the shelves of used books for sale.  THIS was THE favorite book of my kids when we lived in Austin, TX, back in the day!!!!  I freaked out when I saw it!!!  It was oozing with the past goodness of times gone by--3 little white-headed kids, bi-weekly trips on the University of Texas shuttle bus downtown to the library, hunkering down in that cool castle to read in the children's section.  And this book was the star. Copyright 1978! We checked it out over and over and over and over.  It is completely wordless and tells the story of an expedition into the deepest of jungles to catch a glimpse of a very special ape.  You may not be able to read the subtitle--"Being the True Version of the Famous Saga of Adventure and Friendship Newly Discovered".   I'm reading 60 children's books outloud (I know.  I know.  You're saying, "ENOUGH already with the 60 stuff!"), so off to school this will go with me today.  In the meantime I'm basking in nostalgia...carrying Thomas up that hill to the library, packing everybody's backpack with books, eating pb&j on the way home, story hour...

Blogging

I feel compelled to make a disclaimer about this blog.  This blog is written 98% for me.  I don't presume to attract advertisers.  I make no apologies for what I write here--too much this, not enough that.  Lest you mistake my disclaimer for a response to someone's response, it isn't.  I just wanted any readers I have to know that sometimes this blog is the only chronicle I have of something.  If it looks or feels like I'm ignoring an audience, well...I have no clue what my audience is (contrary to all good writing hype-"Identify your audience!").  I blog almost always randomly.  Something will strike me, or I'll start writing something in my head, or I just sit down and write what comes out, or I write in response to a photograph I come upon.  The only real difference between this and a journal (and believe me, it's a gigantic one!) is that I don't get very personal.  I may let you peer into certain sections of my "underwear drawer", but for the most part I leave out the truly truly personal.  Anyone who wants that version can book a road trip with me, and we'll go down THAT road!  Someday, I will be gone.  As in Gone gone.  I suppose inevitably it is rational to assume that eventually the internet will be left decomposing in some sort of cosmic apocalyptic energy dung heap.  My daughter, Shelly, gifted me a published book of a portion of my 456 posts.  That's one way of sidestepping a cataclysmic internet death.  "Take THAT, Cosmic Dung Heap!" Wrapping up, consider this my fight against my own mortality--one more piece of evidence.  Veni, vidi, vici... a footprint.  I signed the guestbook...

Parts Inventory

Sixty years is a lot of miles to put on a body.  Most things prime out probably half way through that and either get thrown out or handed down as heirlooms.  Not so with bodies.  We just patch them up a bit, retread if necessary, and put them back out on the highways.  I'm not naïve enough to think I'm an exception (wouldn't we all like to think we defy age?).  In the interest of the 60th birthday of my body, I thought it would be appropriate to take an inventory of the following:

Head--I'm still maintaining my original hair color, that is, I am not gray yet.  Nothing would please me more than a striking head of white hair like my mother had and one of my sisters has.  My hairdresser says I'm a few years from that, so in the meantime I touch up the gray roots here and there and Clairol on!
 

Brain--Holding its own.  I have that instant word recall challenge occasionally, but I think I'm in good company with even 20 year olds on that.  All the brain research I'm doing (and believe me, this is a conscious effort) leaves me optimistic!  Books, knitting, crossword puzzles, travel.

Eyes--I am down to ONE original contact (originals were purchased in 1969) which may seem odd, but in reality I see better than I EVER have and no longer even use old lady glasses to read!  I know this sounds like a big fat lie, but I lieth not.  I attempted to be fitted for a replacement contact a year ago when my right one poofed into thin air, but after $400 worth of optometrist bills and conflicting test results, I say, "Eh, I'm good with one."

Mouth--My teeth aren't as white as they once were.  At my last cleaning, the technician magnanimously threw in a $200 whitening kit.  So far I can't get into the solution.  I know that's lame, but it seems to be made of kryptonite!  I haven't had a cavity for a decade or so.  Crowns abound.  Some recession.  Check check.

Upper Lip--What's with these annoying cracks??? Short of a vat of Noxzema, I'm thinking they're new unevictable tenants.  And whiskers???  Really??????  Cruel, Mother Nature...cruel.

Chin--Yet again...cruel, Mother Nature...cruel.  I came into possession of a magnifying mirror which shows every crevice and errant hair much like a topographical map.  I had no idea...no idea.  Why hair?  Why there?  Why now?

Neck--It seems shorter.  And squattier.  Must be that heavy brain from all the books and knitting.

Neck down--Down.  Down.  Down.  Everything is moving south.  It reminds me of one of those slow moving mud slides.  Only without anything to ever stop it except the floor.  I guess at that point we just hoist it back up for another ride down???

General internal organs etc.--Good.  Very good.  Ticking, gurgling, humming.  Knock on GIANT REDWOOD WOOD!!!!!

Bones--My last density test put my bones nearly off the charts.  Is it OK to boast about your bones???

Hands--I have these large freckly spots.  I've seem them on other old hands in my family.  Research tells me to clean out my liver and rub my hands with lemon juice.  Also my skin is getting crepey--like crepe paper.  Ah, farewell my one vanity...we had a good run. 

Legs--Still pumping.  As soon as I get to this 60th day, I'm going to really work on my legs.  It's all about mobility, you know.

Knees--Don't ever want to replace them (repeat 10 times daily).

Feet--Exceptionally useful, but not that attractive. 

Toes--I walked into a glass patio door in Pennsylvania a few years ago.  My left bitty itty toe has never really been the same after that break.  So I wear a lot of sandals and kick off my shoes at the least opportunity.  My toenails fall off periodically under duress.

Skin--Interesting.  Evolving.

And that's it.  I should take more vitamins, cut out potato chips, and be more proactive.  I think that will be my lead in to 61...

Gettin' into the Spirit of Thangs!

That cowboy on the fer left sent this photo from his vantage point in Beijing today.  He gave up ridin' the range at the ripe age o' 18 and mozied on to a life of litigation which  eventually led down the happy trail ta teachin' in China.  I'm bettin' that row o' Mao red fringe spread 'cross his chest there would fit in mighty purdy in Tianannmen Square had he thunk ta take it along.  That filly next ta him traded in them fancy glasses fer 10 kids and a preacher man!  They're off  spreadin' the word ta the Russkies!  I'm the young 'un in the red beret teetering on that pole.  Pitiful fat lil' squinty-eyed thang.  Looks like I been skimmin' the heavy cream off a few too many milkcans on my daddy's dairy farm...yessiree.  That free spirit on the right yonder ended up as a lab rat.  Run fast or she'll be a wantin' to draw up some o' yer blood!!!  As fer them cattle--burgers all 'round, I reckon.  We'un's look back on this here picture as our poster for them "Eekin' Out Years".  Yee Haw!!

10

Arco, Idaho 1963

When I was 10 my brother John had a darkroom in the corner of our windowless basement (where incidentally my sister Norma and I headquartered--straight out of Dickens, but we were happy there).  Save for what he processed there, we might have had no pictures at all.  This is my 10 year old world--bike, Schwartzie dog, pixie haircut, and a carefree grin.  What you can't see is the canal east of here where I spent 4 trillion hours playing Lewis and Clark with my best friend, Gail, who lives in the background.  I wrote about all of this in my autobiography a few years ago.  Something else you can't see are the hepatitis bacteria festering inside my liver (we had an outbreak in my school).  Shortly after this picture I became very very ill, landed in a hospital for a week, and spent the next 4 months in bed.

My family (geekiness is always optional, but I seemed to choose it over and over and over...)

 

At 10 my parents had this professional photo taken.  My uncle Orson painted my portrait in oils from this.  Don't worry about that daisy.  It's a sticker.

 

My brother John, seven years my elder.  He's exploring geezer territory and writing a travel guide for my trip there.  Currently he and his wife Marilyn have taken up residency in Beijing.  I hope my geezer path takes me there as well.

Decades

I'm being very public about my upcoming birthday--perhaps to the point of annoyance.  Some anal tendencies have surfaced, and instead of promptly dismissing them, I've actually invited them in, stoked the fire, and poured tea all around!  This is another decade, by cracky, and I don't foresee that many decade birthdays in my future--maybe two, with any luck three.  I know friends who have eaten the crazy pie for their 60th and jumped out of airplanes, among other things.  Not my thing.  Maybe for 70.  I have merely tackled several projects which involve doing things in increments of 60 such as (but not limited to because I'm still some weeks away): 

• Read 60 books (I'm on #50)
• Give 60 things away (they must be things I've made or had in my possession--nothing purchased with money)
• Post 60 blogposts (which accounts for some double blog days...like today)
• Hike 60 miles
• Read 60 children's books aloud
• Eat no sugar (cookies, cakes, pies, ice cream, candy) for 60 days
• Pass out 60 homemade cookies to 60 strangers

 

It's not all that impressive a list now that I look at it, especially since I crossed off 60 days of vegetarianism and 60 days of juice fasting; 60 mile bike ride; 60 handwritten letters/notes; 60 days of a perfectly clean house; and 60 To Do lists crossed off perfectly.  My original idea was to have this over the top 60th year and then write a book about it.  Now that I've watered it down, that's probably not an option--unless some publisher wants a sorry accounting of a gray old hag not quite cutting it.  Not too many of those kinds of books available.  Hmmm...wonder why.  My original idea was to invite friends to spend my actual birthday hiking on the Appalachian Trail.  That's been tweaked a bit, but I WILL be on the A.T. over spring break!  If you get any smashing ideas for me that I can still do, send them along.  The books and the blogposts are kicking my keester. I procrastinated, so I deserve that pain. A hike I took in the Superstitions in Arizona a week ago reminded me I'm aging.  Not the mountain goat I once was. I've been craving a num num all week.  I still haven't given in, but I did stick a stash of Samoas away for the end of my sugar fast! I guess what I'm saying is this IS a challenge.  But nothing Herculean. 

Sleep Talk

For the last two nights I've dreamed that my 93 year old aunt who died in early December has come back to life.  This reappearance hasn't been grisly or inappropriate, thus sparing me a nightmare complete with zombies and hands reaching up out of graves.  She has just appeared naturally--smiling and talking rationally from her rocking chair.  Last night we did, however, take a ride in a car driven by a caseworker of some sort at breakneck white knuckle speed down a treacherous mountain road to a nursing home.  Aunt Norma took the ride calmly and in stride.  I, not so.
I am not surprised to begin having dreams about my aunt.  Part of the reason my blog went AWOL a few months ago is because I spent the larger part of November easing my aunt through death and then December picking up some of the pieces resulting from her departure.  It all began with a routine visit to her doctor, subsequent multiple hospital and nursing facility stays, and then culminated in a week of hospice care in her own home.  This was my first experience of this sort--both of my parents just dropped dead with no forewarning and little time to ease them into anything.  That is a blessing, I guess.  Some might disagree.  But in the case of my aunt, the situation demanded me to be brave beyond my experience.  Dramatic decisions came at me like shrapnel. I was administering some pretty hefty drugs, fielding correspondence with all the family all over the world, sleeping with one eye open, and trying to soldier through each day. I wasn't afforded the luxury of much processing, so that my sub-conscious is doing that now makes sense. 
We'll see where this all takes us...

Lost

Life comes at you pretty fast.  Lots of stuff to manage, discard, re-examine, and categorize.  Waaayyyyy too much stuff.  Inevitably some of it gets lost.  Socks in particular are prone to irretrievable wanderings.  Important irreplaceable things edge in a close second.  Perpetually the fluff stuff floats around us like a cloud--paper clips, receipts, ticket stubs, pencil nubs.  We wish IT would get  lost!!  Why too often then does the really cool stuff disappear?? I think I posted once about a Swiss Army backpack that I prized above ALL others that got lost in a distasteful un-marriaging I took part in.  I'm hoping it will resurrect and join me on the other side.  Something else I still mourn is a letter I received back from Dr. Seuss when I had kids write to him about 3 months before he died..  I took such "GOOD CARE" of that letter that I haven't seen it in 25 years!!!  I honestly think in that instance I stuck it safely in a book and will someday come upon it.  Routinely, I lose and find, lose and find, lose and find.  Currently at our house two important things are at large, M.I.A's--my cell phone and our 4-wheeler key.  I haven't seen my phone for something like 4 days now.  I've probably accrued several enemies as a result.  It probably rang and rang until only a whimper was left.  Dead now certainly. The 4-wheeler key is on a large gray caribener, and Paco and I suspect it may be imbedded in the muddy muck of our sideyard--a no-man's land, a slurpy oozy slippery wasteland until April.  Heaven help us if the key is there. Last night we put out an A.P.B. for that key to no avail.  Our houseguests even joined the search.  Nada.  I really thought my phone was hunkered down here at school.  Nope.  Nope.  And nope.  Who is the God of Lost Things???  Probably over Lost Causes (of which I have a few) as well.   I'm all up for sacrificing something to him.  I'll keep you posted.  Maybe if that's successful, I'll move on to recovering Tupperware lids, favorite lipsticks, love notes from 4th grade...

Is There A Doctor In The House??

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO DR. SEUSS, a day late.  This "celebration tree" was my contribution to the glee of the day for my grandkids.  I reserve this day each year as my "Grammy Holiday".  I can't wait to see how they all decorate them!  I have yet to don my Cat in the Hat suit, but I did finger it a little yesterday.  Wearing a cat suit to SHREK, The Musical, might have been a bit over the top.

Thie Pinnochio guy was my favorite.  He was all lanky and loose and squeaky voiced.  Just couldn't tell the truth.  Cute.