icky rainbows

Ruby and I were on Frankford Ave., crossing the damp street where she noted there were rainbows. I said the oils there make it seem so. She said, "Eww...but rainbows are pretty, not icky." I said some rainbows are icky. She replied, "No way!" She likes to walk on the curb of the sidewalk because she says a girl needs balance, boys don't. I have to wonder at that. Recently, she ran a fever and had a breakout around her lips, cold sores. When she went back to school, recovering, a couple of girls remarked, "Eww, what's that?" and so on. Topically, my wife said to her to tell the girls it would go away, don't worry about it, and ask them, "By the way, were you made in China?" That confused them, what happens to you coming from somewhere else, altering the appearance of things, making you aware of yourself, in another context. My daughter is as beautiful as ever.

spelling lesson

lately, Ruby is writing sounding out words, writing them down, drawing them, really. the other day, she asked, "Daddy, does this spell 'heart'?" It was h-u-r-t. I showed her how to spell it, but thought how much the two words relate and define one another, mirroring our humaness.

franklin square and balloons

Yesterday, Ruby, my wife and I went to Franklin Square; it was a perfect Fall afternoon, almost cloudless, that bright blue sky that is close to unreal, trees, a sea of burnt reds, oranges, yellows and greens, a lovely shudder of nascent air. We all got on the carousel, wide-eyed and expectant of a world going around and around, up and down, riding nowhere, the most special destination sometimes. I took a photograph of Ruby in front of it; she was in between poses. I think that is interesting and funny, her being aware of who she is portraying , making a face, affecting a manner, for the camera.
The other night, we were listening to music of a band called "Of Montreal." Ruby was trying to keep a balloon from hitting the floor,kind of dancing at the same time. I was, too, when it got away from her, then touched it back to her. But she wanted to play by herself, like usual. I explained that life is all about how you share balloons.

Tinkerbell and the Tooth Fairy

Last Wenesday was Halloween and Ruby was Tinkerbell; I had to work, so I couldn't trick or treat with her. But I saw photographs and she definitely got into character. She wore her costume like she was ready for theater of her own imagination, make-up and wings and a magic wand included.
Last night, she lost her first tooth and my wife and I told her to leave it under the pillow for the Tooth Fairy, who give her a present. She was amazed at her tooth, tinier than I'd expect, but still momentous, a signifier of change. She was worried the other kids at school would poke fun at her; but we reassured her the other kids would go through the same thing.
In the morning, she ran into our room, "Look what the Tooth Fairy gave me, a dollar!" We were all dumbfounded and awe-struck over what happens, when seasons and people transform and the mystery is in and around us.

the jellyfish scene was awesome

Ruby, my wife, Renee, and myself saw the Disney On Ice production of "Finding Nemo" last Saturday. It was very good; the choreography and the costumes were so precise and vibrant. It was the first time all three of us went to the Wachovia Center, a perfect venue for this version of theater, special effects and soundtrack included. Our collective excitement made me realize how "family entertainment" can be special for those who can experience it as something to share and as the art it is (no need to mention the high-end concession stands and souvenir shops).

for the birds

My wife almost ran over some pigeons and chickadees in the street this clouded morning. They seemed so dumb, waddling haphazard, in their own thoughts and awkwardly trying to occupy existence. Then, of course, I saw people crossing, getting out of cars, going through dooways that resemble dooways all over the world, weather-worn and remote, yet familiar like your own face. These people, like me, like the birds beneath nowhere's umbrella, a chill in the air from something imagined or remembered: I pointed out a dead pigeon in the road toRuby; she asked how I knew it was a pigeon; I told her why; she said it wasn't anything, it was nothing.

andy warhol

Ruby had her water-colors out this morning to paint a picture. I asked her what she was going to make. She said, "what you have to do is paint," which the emphasis on "do." This made me think of Andy Warhol. To me, he saw the "work" in creating art as more meaningful than anything else, which might be conceived as only surface.