Why, "killevippen", of course...

When I saw this little door on a crafty blog ( I promise I will figure it out and post which blog, but right now I am unsure of exactly where I happened upon it) I thought immediately of my blogging friend RunLoriRun. I thought it would be a rad addition to the Alice In Wonderland mural she is working on. Tonight when I saw my desktop, there was the little door, calmly waiting to remind me of another childhood favorite. Here you will find a tiny tale by the author of Pippi Longstocking's adventures, Astrid Lindgren. Even though there is no actual door in the story, this is what Nils Karlsson's door would look like if it WAS there. When I was young, this story wrung every emotion known to childkind from my small frame. There was loss, sadness, despair, loneliness, warmth, friendship, and hope. I suppose it is something of a bleak tale, but so are many stories we loved as children. We just managed to find the good among the not-so-good, remember how we had to "find the moral of the story..." This story was in one of my Childcraft books, which I looked the world over for for a year or so, until I finally found one in a thrift store. So, Nils Karlsson is introduced to another generation and Bertil lives on in the imaginations of my children. I hope they love him as much as I did.

Wild Things

Ok, I knew this was coming, but I don't think I was fully prepared for it. I may or possibly may not have started to cry as I watched the trailer here.



When I was a youngling, I did not have the
happiest of childhoods. However, I could always
find happiness and escape in the pages of a book.
This was one of my particular favorites...












Max making mischief of one kind
......and another


I read this Easy Picture book until I was well over 12 years old...um, who am I kidding? I still pull it out and read it. I have a sacred spot on my bookshelf that holds about a dozen thin volumes which mean more to me than any collectible or vintage book I own. My Where the Wild Things Are hardback is nestled in among them, as is Pierre, also by Maurice Sendak, Johnny Hop's Adventure by Mary E. Roberts, Junk Day on Juniper Street by Lillian Moore, The Story of Zachary Zween by Mabel Watts, The Cookie Tree by Jay Williams, and another personal favorite, Old Black Witch by Harry and Wende Devlin.
Sometimes I find myself cleaning off the bookshelf, or some other surface in my bedroom and before I know it, I am seated in front of that shelf with a pile of slender, colorful books in my lap and suddenly I am transported back in time. My cat Muffin has wrapped himself around my neck as I lay on my frilly bedspread and read. I love my time machine. It has a great filter. Only the good stuff is allowed to come back and keep me company. That cat was a marvel! He let my little sister wrap him up in her baby blankets and tuck him in a doll carriage. What cat does that???? I can still see his orange face peeking through her pink blankets. Only the smallest bit of his nose and eyes visible he seemed to be resigned to his fate. What a good boy! You would think he might have drawn the line at the pink surrounding him and tried to escape, but he was flexible that way. He'd stay on his back, wrapped up like that for several trips around the living room and through the hall. He'd usually slip out at some point, or be freed finally by my sister and slink off to the back of the house somewhere. Always I would find him on my pillow and as I lay down to read or listen to my 45's, he'd lie down across my chest and neck, tail around the top of my head like a fuzzy hat and we would just kind of "hang" that way. I still read lying on my back sometimes on the couch or the bed and I can almost feel him there, keeping silent company, sometimes looking up at the book as if he could comprehend all those letters on the page. I wish I had a photo of him, but I realise that it isn't necessary. He is so tied in with all those lovely books and memories that I can still see him hanging about when I get them out. Funny what you think of some times...

Childhood memories, Indian food and Mitch Hedberg...

Since the sun is bright AND shiny today, I thought I might lunch on the veranda. Actually, it is more of a shabby deck, but, nonetheless, food just tastes better out there. I thought the sun might sprinkle my lily-white legs with a few more freckles. Plus, I felt that I might need a little Vitamin D, so out I went. As I was eating my mattar paneer, a strange event unfolded neath my footrest. A squiggly little lizard-type thing rushed across the blazing deck boards. He found a shady spot under the steps to the top level, and I got a good gander at him. He seemed relieved to have found the arctic zone as he swished his tail about, looking all cute. When I was a kid, I would not have stopped until I OWNED that lizard. I would have emerged from under the deck, covered in mud and muck and spider's webs with a tiny lizard gingerly, but firmly, between two fingers. I always save glass jars and margarine bowls, even now, and I know it harkens back to a day when I always needed a habitat for some new "pet". I digress. As I watched, I started to suspect that the tail-swishing wasn't exactly a gesture of relief, but possibly one of attraction or aggression, often with the male of the species it is difficult to distinguish between the two. (* Life Lesson Alert #1) Another little lizard emerged from 'neath the deck and my little friend proceeded to chase the newcomer. Again, not sure whether it was love or hate, but I appreciated my observer status in the whole episode. Somewhere inside still lurks the kid who used to be, because I wanted to drop my Indian food and give chase. But, ya' know, it was kind of fun to just sit and let it all unfold! Here's to the miniature dramas unfolding all around us. Next time you get the chance, take a moment and LOOK AROUND. You never know what you may see. Or remember...






"In England Smoky the Bear is not the forest fire prevention representative. They have Smacky the Frog. It’s just like a bear, but it’s a frog. I think it’s a better system, I think we should adopt it. Because bears can be mean, but frogs are always cool. Never has there been a frog hopping toward me, and I thought ‘man, I’d better play dead. Here comes that frog…’ You never say here comes that frog in a nervous manner. It’s always optimistic. Hey here comes that frog, all-right! Maybe he’ll come near me so I can pet him, and stick him in a mayonnaise jar, with a stick and a leaf, to recreate what he’s used to. And I’m pretty sure I’d have to punch some holes in the lid, because he’s damn sure used to air. Then I can observe him, and he won’t be doing much in his 16 ounce world."
-Mitch Hedberg