Digging potatoes

I dug potatoes with my daughter today.  Our hands clawing at the earth, fingers probing the dirt - it was like digging for treasure.  In addition to our haul of four bags of red potatoes, we discovered a few grasshoppers, some crickets, several lady bugs, assorted beetles, numerous potato bugs, a tiny fuzzy spider and one toad (which peed in my hand).  The sun was on our necks and the dirt and weeds made us itch, but we were too preoccupied with the joy of searching for our bounty as a team of equals.  As we walked back between the rows with our heavy sacks, our faces were looking down, but our hearts perched happily upon satisfied shoulders.  My daughter's bright green boots dragged through the dirt as she cheerily noted how we'd have potatoes to eat whenever we wanted.  We were sweaty, dusty, and fully content.  You'll never experience a better afternoon than that.

Potato Dig at KYV Farm

Bitter Herbs

I like Passover because the whole family has to stay at the table for more than the usual ten minutes. Let's face it, it's all about the kids - when they're there. ...asking the four questions, searching for the Akikomen, learning to sit still with empty stomachs while sitting at a table brimming with delicious food - what kid wouldn't look forward to that?! But, what I really like, is the bitter herbs. They serve as a reminder of the bondage of our ancestors in Egypt, which is immediately reflected on the faces of those around the table who actually eat the bitter herbs. Believe me, there is nothing like a mouthful of horseradish to capture your attention. Even a dime-sized portion on the corner of a a piece of matzoh will set your eyes watering and force you to think of nothing else but our enslaved forebears. It will also provoke you to lunge across the table for more matzoh to absorb the burning in your mouth and nose. For those few moments, everyone at the Passover table - young and old - is caught up in the need to ignore everything else and focus on the nearly incapacitating nature of true bitterness. And as it begins to fade with the intake of Manischewitz and matzoh, you feel immediate gratitude for the fact that it was only temporary - unlike that of those whom we commemorate. There is a divide in this experience between the younger and older folks at the table. The older ones know exactly what to expect as they lift the traditional food to their lips. The younger ones are merely following their example, coaxed along with time-honored phrases such as "try it," "just a little taste," or "it's good for you" (an obvious risk). Seeing the children's faces as they actually taste the horseradish is like watching someone take a swig expecting delicious hot chocolate, but getting old, bitter coffee instead. You can't help but feel a little bad, while you rush to give them more matzoh to ease the sensation. The mental picture I've just created makes me want to take an actual photo. Perhaps we'll manage to get one next year, just as everyone has taken that fateful nibble. We can keep a copy around just to prove that - although we did get together and enjoy a filling meal - it wasn't that much fun. After all, it's not as if it's a celebration. It's more like a post-commiseration... ...with food.

Twinge

Forget about that twinge in your stomach, and "Just Do It" today. Tomorrow will come soon enough.

Amazing Nap

I want to do something amazing, something phenomenal. I want to do something indicative of my awesome, unlimited potential. But, I think I'll take a nap first. I keep waking up in the wee hours of the morning between two little people who roll into me and poke me with their toes. They're not tired, because in addition to 10 or more hours of sleep each night, they get naps left and right. I deserve a nap. But as soon as I wake up, I'm going to do something amazing.

Sharing

My almost 2-year-old has a very precise concept of sharing. Whatever item happens to be in her possession is liable to be shared at any given moment. Here's how it works: She notices another person and forcefully jabs the item out into the air in front of their face. The recipient barely has a moment to grasp the item before she snatches it back, convinced she's fulfilled the sharing requirement. She is extremely adamant about this, and if said item is not accepted for the brief moment, she quickly becomes insistent. "Take this thing from me right this second! You have to let me share with you, now take it! Good - now give it back right now!, right now!, right now! right now!/Give It Back! - What? - Did you think I was giving it to you? I was just sharing it with you. Apparently you don't know how that works. Well, I'm sorry. You have nothing interesting to say and nothing to offer me, I'm gone, and I know I'm not smiling (what the heck does that have to do with sharing anyway). Man! More people really need to get with this whole sharing custom." She even does it with food, which can be confusing. Sometimes she wants to show you up close the piece of food she's about to eat, and sometimes she's simply overcome with the urge to feed you. This involves her persuading you to open your mouth just enough for her to literally shove the morsel past your lips and teeth and then continue to stare intently at your mouth until you chew and swallow. Apparently, contrary to the popular saying - She IS the boss of me.

Wake Up Call

My younger daughter woke me gently today from my nap on the love seat. When I say "woke me gently", I mean - attempted to put her play-glasses on me while I was sleeping. And when I say "attempted to put her glasses on me", I mean - poked me in the eye with the earpiece. Only my thin eyelid was protecting me. When I awoke at the prodding, and opened my eyes, she had a clear shot at my eyeball. She took it.

Sorry to hear it...

I'm sorry to hear about the passing of Whitney Houston. The apparent loneliness of being found dead in a hotel room, is just so damned depressing for me to think about for too long. We should all have a hand to hold, and we should all be willing to reach out a hand to those around us. I know everyone is on their own path, but paths are forever crossing. I try to smile at the whiners and scowlers I see. And if I'm one of them, I dare you to smile at me.

In Whitney's absence, it's good to think of her music playing.