It’s Amelia Earhart’s birthday. Let’s celebrate with a quote.
“Everyone has oceans to fly, if they have the heart to do it. Is it reckless? Maybe. But what do dreams know of boundaries?”
Here’s to the journeys that take us beyond our imagination.
I recently read an article about how some children are being discouraged from using their fingers to count when doing math problems.
And I thought, why? What difference does it make if kids count on their fingers, as long as they are learning the essential concepts? It seems a little arbitrary to me.
As a child, I was a finger-counter. It helped me to visualize the process, the action and outcomes. Even today, as a grownup, I occasionally slip back into a finger-counting mode, not because I can’t do simple math but because that’s how my brain works. I see processes and visualize steps in my head. Using my fingers as a means of acting out what my brain is doing is helpful.
And that’s true for many others. In fact, researchers have learned that associating an action (using fingers) with a concept (adding or subtracting) influences parts of our brains that retain and process information.
Simple science.
With all that’s happening these days, finger-counting seems among the least worrisome things to get worked up about. I say, let the children count on their fingers. That goes for grownups, too.
And on really tough days, on days when nothing is going right, when stuff seems to be falling apart or going askew or just not making sense, on days when math seems harder than usual…well, then it should also be okay to use cookies in place of your fingers.
If you raised children in the 90s, chances are you know about Wishbone.
For those who aren’t familiar with Wishbone, here’s the deal: Wishbone is a Jack Russell Terrier (dog) who goes on literary adventures. He dresses up like the characters in the stories and tells the tales by acting out various parts. He’s done Rip Van Winkle, Don Quixote, Romeo and Juliet…you get the picture.
The show, which aired on PBS, was a clever and creative way to introduce young children to the Classics, fun for them and interesting enough for adults to endorse without feeling like time was being wasted.
My oldest son adored Wishbone. We watched every episode, sometimes multiple times. This was in the Time Before YouTube and Netflix and Streaming, so we had to plan to tune in. We’d sit together on the couch, and the show would start, and we’d sing along with the theme song (“What’s the story, Wishbone? What’s this you’re dreaming of?”). And then we’d enjoy the show, learning something new while giggling at Wishbone’s antics and costumes.
Sadly, the original Wishbone died several years ago. I’ve heard, however, that somebody’s making a Wishbone movie. It won’t be exactly the same, of course, but it will probably (hopefully) capture the same sweet, engaging spirit as the tv show.
Perhaps my son and I will watch it together, this time with our own Jack Russell Terrier (mix) snuggled on the couch with us. Or maybe not; he’s a grownup, has his own life now, and Wishbone may not hold the same nostalgic appeal for him as it does for me. That’s okay, that’s how life works sometimes.
Either way, watching with my son or watching alone, I’ll do my best not to give into the temptation to dress our pup, Mollie, like a literary character. I’ll give Wishbone his moment, make him the focus.
Mollie looks pretty cute in costumes and hats, however, so I’m not making any promises.
I saw the comet NEOWISE last night.
I was only really able to see it through binoculars, but it was there, a shining dot of light with a blazing tail sweeping out behind.
Amazing.
“Comets, importing change of time and states,
Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky.”
-William Shakespeare, Henry VI, Part 1, Act 1, Scene 1
”Freedom is not a state; it is an act. It is not some enchanted garden perched high on a distant plateau where we can finally sit down and rest. Freedom is the continuous action we all must take, and each generation must do its part to create an even more fair, more just society.” – Representative John Lewis
I’m not a slippers person; I typically wear socks when I’m hanging out at home.
This morning, the pair I grabbed in the dark, as I stumbled from bed, were my Christmas Reindeer Socks. They were a gift from a friend several years ago. They are soft, and warm, and cozy, and they make me smile whenever I wear them.
Some of the smile is because they are whimsical socks, and some of the smile is because I am thinking of my friendship. It’s a good combination. It’s a good way to start the day.
To go along with the Christmas Reindeer Socks, the appropriate cuppa is the Christmas Snowman Cuppa. A little Christmas in July.
Ho-ho-ho and happy Friday.
It’s been a while since I gave a Garden Cheerleader update.
The tomatoes are doing well, not a bumper crop but delivering at least one or two ripe tomatoes every few days. The peppers are also popping with regular frequency, and the oregano and basil do well as long as they are kept watered.
Our one tiny cluster of grapes is shifting from green to purple, which is exciting. I’ve been around gardens before; my grandmother grew tomatoes and other vegetables every year, and so did I when I was a child, once or twice. But this is my first experience with growing grapes. I’m so emotionally invested in this first batch that I may not be able to eat them once they’re ripe.
What’s truly thriving in our little backyard garden is kale. It doesn’t seem to require a lot of watering. The occasional rain shower and some in-between offerings from the backyard hose are apparently sufficient. Sometimes, I see evidence of bugs on the plants, but for the most part, they seem to be bug-free, growing steadily in their dark green, heavy-leafed way.
I’m not a fan of kale; my experiences eating raw kale were not enjoyable. I chewed, and chewed, and chewed, and the pieces didn’t seem to get smaller, and the flavor was acrid and unpleasant. In my opinion, kale has one purpose: to be cooked into soups and stews, a hearty background vegetable that gives a touch of texture and vitamins. Cooked into something, the leaves become soft, and the flavor becomes secondary.
Like a good Garden Cheerleader, I’m proud of the kale success we’re seeing, even if I don’t put kale at the top of my vegetable favorites. I know it’s good for me; I’m grateful to have it.
Where’s the soup kettle? Let’s make some dinner.
I almost didn’t vote yesterday.
Not because I didn’t want to; because I almost ran out of time, and because it seemed inconvenient.
Typically, I early vote. This time, for various reasons, that didn’t happen. So, yesterday was my last chance.
When I got to the polling location late in the day, there was a long line of people (socially-distanced people) waiting for their turn to go in. I had to drive around the parking lot a couple of times to find a spot. At one point, I thought, you don’t have to do this. But then I thought, just keep going.
Once I parked and made my way to the end of the line and realized that I’d be standing outside for a good while on the hottest (so far) day of the year, I thought, you don’t have to do this. But then I thought, just keep going.
And then, when I made it inside and realized that the line of (socially-distanced) people snaked around the corner and back and forth within the building for a bit, meaning that the wait would continue, I thought, you don’t have to do this. But then I thought, just keep going.
In the end, it took me about five minutes to vote, and much longer to wait to vote. While waiting, I didn’t see one person step out of line to leave. I didn’t hear anybody complain. The poll workers did their best to keep things moving quickly. Kudos to them for an efficient operation. Waiting was simply a necessary part of the process, part of the experience.
I’m not sharing this story for some kind of pat on the back. I don’t deserve special recognition. No blue ribbon, no trophy. My choice to vote – or not to vote – is always a very personal decision, affected by a whole lot of considerations. I respect that it’s the same for others. But, I am glad I participated yesterday.
Despite the wait, the heat, the inconvenience, it was ultimately just me. I didn’t know if my preferred candidates would win. But it was me, and my opinions, and my values, and my hopes and dreams and gratitude, and a voting booth.
A recent discovery: my cat, Tom, loves it when I whistle.
As soon as he hears the whistling start, he comes running to my side. If I’m sitting, he’ll jump in my lap and stare at me, adoringly. He’ll also bump his head against mine, delivering kitty kisses and cuddles. If I’m standing, he’ll swish around my ankles, back and forth, occasionally meowing, and follow me as I walk. Either way, his purrs are loud enough to hear across the room.
This behavior isn’t unique to me. He does it with anybody who whistles. He’s also the only one of our cats to act this way. Our others just stare at us for a moment and then get on with whatever cat business they were involved in before we tried to get their attention.
I’m not a very good whistler. Like my singing, I don’t always hit each note. It’s also hard not to laugh when Tom reacts, and whistling while laughing doesn’t work very well. But, he doesn’t seem to care.
It’s a nice thing, starting the morning with a cuppa and a cat. Happy Monday.
I’m cheating a bit with today’s cuppa picture.
This cuppa photo is from five years ago. It was taken on a family vacation. When I saw it this morning, I started thinking about the trips I’ve taken over the years.
Traveling is one of my favorite things. Going to new places, experiencing new things – I love everything about it, even the stress of planning and the anxiety that sometimes comes with the execution.
That’s not to say that I’m always a happy camper, that I don’t freak out if the luggage gets lost or we can’t find the hotel. Oh yes, I’ve had my Travel Panic Moments, moments that I regret and wish I could do over. But mostly, my travel memories are good. Mostly, they make me smile.
The current circumstances don’t make it advisable or even possible to travel. I support the fact that adventures away from home must wait. Safety is the priority; wisdom must prevail. But one day – I hope, I believe – the door will open again.
Until then, I’ll enjoy my memories. I’ll reflect upon and be grateful for all the things I’ve seen and heard and experienced, the cities and neighborhoods, the mountains and beaches and forests, the people and food, songs and stories. I’ll consider where I might want to go in the future, search for new destinations, evaluate the logistics and the practical realities.
And as I remember and dream and imagine, I’m sure I’ll be smiling.
“Not all those who wander are lost.” — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
A Daily Cuppa 