Wonder What to Write

The writer in me has left the building. I think she went to McDonald's. The #4, large, with a Diet Coke is what I'd go for, but that's just me, and I'm simply a place saver 'til she returns. She was rambling a bit about how she has writer's block and just can't think of interesting things to dish about on a daily or even weekly basis. She just finished an article for her "paid job" and needed a break, and apparently about a thousand calories.

Eh, while I'm here, I may as well write something... Let's see. How about some random musings of the past few weeks. (Sorry, but it's all I got.):

• I saw the movie "Babies" and thought it was wonderful. If you're not familiar, it's a non-narrative documentary of four babies from four separate corners of the Earth (Namibia, Japan, Mongolia, and California). The camera follows them for a year, from birth to when they're able to stand, and it records the babies eating, playing, falling, fighting, sleeping, communicating... Several things became apparent to me after bearing witness to these four beautiful "stories": Mothers are simply amazing creatures. Babies are more resilient than I had ever thought. Siblings fight on all continents. It really is true that love is the utmost important thing one can provide their child/ren with. I definitely need to travel (read: learn) more in my lifetime and, perhaps, worry less. And, when it comes down to it, material things just don't freakin' matter.
• Lila and AJ have a new thing: When the sun is setting and the sky is orangey-pink, they call it a "Lila Sky," and when it's a really bright blue with crisp, white clouds, it's an "AJ Sky." This thrills them that they have their very own skies. And it makes me want to envelop myself in their world - one of imagination, and confidence, and happiness. And wonder. I want me some more of that. I wonder what a Jen Sky would look like... Probably something somewhere between bright blue and orangey-pink.
• Not sure why, but Borders has done away with its headphones. Perhaps it's due to the recent bed bug infestation (heh), or maybe it's because even sans said bugs, those shared headphones are already just plain skanky enough. Who knows. All I do know is that I picked up the new Natalie Merchant cd on impulse, without my usual pre-purchase listening session, and all I want to do is throw it in the toilet. It is reviewed favorably by many critics who laud her for her wide-ranging styles, including Celtic, orchestra-draped waltzes, country & bluegrass, jazz, reggae, klezmer, R&B, Cajun, Balkan, and Chinese folk. What is that all about, Natalie? Blech. I was looking for something along the lines of "Wonder" and instead got Oh-Brother-Where-Art-Thou-esque craziness waltzing in on a banjo. What a waste of $18. I could have bought Star, Us, InTouch, AND People for that, I mean really. *sigh*
• The monkeys and I play a game called "I wonder" where we simply muse aloud what various people we know and green-winged fairies would do in certain situations. This is how it usually goes down:

Me: I wonder what Tinkerbell is doing right now.
Lila: Umm, Kinkerbell [sic] is my best friend and she is in the castle with Minnie and she is dancing and singing and playing with the princesses and I love her so much because she is my best friend and she is soooooo pretty and nice and I just want to hug her all the time because I love her sooooo much.
AJ: She is plobably [sic] going poo-poo. Hahahahaha!!! [breaks into hysterical laughter]

Is this the most educational use of our time together? Plobably not. But we happen to dig it.

• I am continually curious as to why some people choose to give advice when it hasn't been asked for. Specifically, parenting advice. I am personally of the don't-ask-for-advice-and-don't-give-it-(unless-someone-asks-you-for-it-or-if-they're-in-danger) ilk. So I have come to wonder: Why are there so many out there who think their unsolicited advice is going to be welcome with open arms? Why do they think it's appropriate? I was at a little playground a few weeks back and there were eleventeen kids running around screaming and pushing eachother and being, generally, out of control. (And believe me, AJ and Lila are not above this behavior. In fact, that sentence just made me laugh. What a mellow way of saying, "Sometimes my children are insane.") That said, in public places, my kids have a tendency to be a bit shy. Especially around children older than them. So they were being quiet and cute together and climbing on a dragon, running back to me when other children would vault into their hemisphere of play. A mom of one of the screaming vaulters sat down next to me and started giving me advice on how I should teach my kids to be more outgoing. How they will benefit in the future by garnering a sense of confidence and strength at this young age. How I need to encourage them to play with others, blah, blah, blah. WTF. From within the depths of my fuming and incredulous mama monkey self, I was able to locate and utter one single sentence: "I don't know why you are telling me this." Yeah, definitely one of those moments you look back on and have twenty-three perfectly worded responses that would have been just so, so much better, dammit. My lack of an eloquent response seemed to have done the trick, however, as the Advice Expert shrugged and walked away. (She probably rejoined her Advice Expert Friends With Shrieking Children, whispered, "I think she's crazy," and then quickly planned an advice attack on yet another unsuspecting victim.)
• I guess I have a wonder theme going here, so I may as well beat it into the ground, right? Can I get a woot-woot!? Ahem. I like beginning essays/blog posts/certain articles with quotes or lyrics. I figure if I start off with a witty, inspirational sentence or two from someone cool and/or smart, what follows will somehow have gained more strength and start us all off on the same page. (This would not work well with the spoken word, however. How annoying would that be? "Friends, before we imbibe way too many glasses of wine together, I would just like to start off with a quote from Galileo. 'Wine is sunlight, held together by water.' Carry on." Yeah, annoying.) And sometimes I simply can't find a quote, on the entire Internet, to accompany my topic of choice. Hence, the lack of one up top. So I wonder: Where is there a quote about wonder, itself, that fulfills what I want to say here? (<-- See how I did that? I feel just like Carrie Bradshaw! Everything always comes back to my theme. Which is wonder! Oh, you knew that? Oh, and it's annoying and a bit elementary, to boot? Shit. I wish the writer in me would come back from McD's.) Anyway, I found something that will do:

If a child is to keep his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in. ~ Rachel Carson

 h a p p y   m o n d a y !