b and I drove UpNorth this past weekend. I spent a considerable amount of time wandering through the neighborhoods of my youth. These are shots taken with my iPhone using primarily Instagram and Hipstamatic.
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Rat Girl
In my sixth grade class we had a science center. It was a corner of the room where we had several cages of rodents. One cage had female white rats and another cage had male white rats. It seems a male was mistakenly left in the female cage and pretty soon we had baby rats.
I was not very popular in the sixth grade. My body was changing faster than the other girls and quite frankly it confused us all. I dressed and acted in the hopes that I wouldn't be noticed. I was partial to men's flannel shirts over a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I had long bangs that were permanently covering my eyes.
I spent a lot of time in the science center, cleaning out the rat cages. The males got really big and scary looking and not many people were willing to pick them up and take them out of the cage to clean it. When the rat pups were born I took care of them. One of them was especially bright and curious and I took to walking around with her in my pocket or on my shoulder. I named her Rachel.
The teacher was ok with this and the other students already thought I was weird. It was just another reason to stay away from me, so it worked out well for everyone.
At the end of the year I took Rachel home. I kept her in a cage in a large closet in my bedroom. Unbeknownst to me (or my mother) she was pregnant and soon I had a litter of rat pups in my closet. They didn't all make it but I ended up with Margaret and Peter. By then I knew enough to give Peter his own cage before any trouble started.
I was crushed when Rachel died and, not to shortly after, Margaret. Rats don't live very long lives but Peter held on for a while.
Many many years later we got Angel a pet rat. We named her Penelope but b started calling her "Ratty" and that stuck. Ratty lived in Angel's bedroom closet but he never really gave her much attention. After a while I felt bad for her. Rats are very social creatures. We gave her to my nephews, who had sisters from her litter. She lived a good long life with my sister's family.
b and I have been in and out of pet stores the last couple of days. Pupzilla got a new bed, two new bones, and some bacon-flavored treats. I've also been on an obsessive search for the perfect cat food. Yesterday I was amazed that the Doggie Treat Bar had cookies. Really the entire display was set up to look like a candy counter. I find this very disturbing. Far more disturbing than having rats as pets.
I was not very popular in the sixth grade. My body was changing faster than the other girls and quite frankly it confused us all. I dressed and acted in the hopes that I wouldn't be noticed. I was partial to men's flannel shirts over a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I had long bangs that were permanently covering my eyes.
I spent a lot of time in the science center, cleaning out the rat cages. The males got really big and scary looking and not many people were willing to pick them up and take them out of the cage to clean it. When the rat pups were born I took care of them. One of them was especially bright and curious and I took to walking around with her in my pocket or on my shoulder. I named her Rachel.
The teacher was ok with this and the other students already thought I was weird. It was just another reason to stay away from me, so it worked out well for everyone.
At the end of the year I took Rachel home. I kept her in a cage in a large closet in my bedroom. Unbeknownst to me (or my mother) she was pregnant and soon I had a litter of rat pups in my closet. They didn't all make it but I ended up with Margaret and Peter. By then I knew enough to give Peter his own cage before any trouble started.
I was crushed when Rachel died and, not to shortly after, Margaret. Rats don't live very long lives but Peter held on for a while.
Many many years later we got Angel a pet rat. We named her Penelope but b started calling her "Ratty" and that stuck. Ratty lived in Angel's bedroom closet but he never really gave her much attention. After a while I felt bad for her. Rats are very social creatures. We gave her to my nephews, who had sisters from her litter. She lived a good long life with my sister's family.
b and I have been in and out of pet stores the last couple of days. Pupzilla got a new bed, two new bones, and some bacon-flavored treats. I've also been on an obsessive search for the perfect cat food. Yesterday I was amazed that the Doggie Treat Bar had cookies. Really the entire display was set up to look like a candy counter. I find this very disturbing. Far more disturbing than having rats as pets.
Today we saw these beauties.
I'll admit I was tempted but the animals I have drive me crazy enough.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Children's Poetry
When my sisters and I were young we had a favorite book of poems: Piping Down the Valleys Wild (edited by Nancy Larrick). I was lucky enough to come across this book at a garage sale several years ago. Some of my favorites include:
Get Up and Bar the Door (Anonymous)
The Owl and the Pussycat (Edward Lear)
Cats (Eleanor Farjeon)
Every Time I Climb a Tree (David McCord)
My Shadow (Robert Louis Stevenson)
Daddy Fell Into the Pond (Alfred Noyes)
Father William (Lewis Carroll)
It was that collection and A.A. Milne that I believe fostered my love of poetry. To this day I make sure I always have a copy of When We Were Very Young in the house. Favorites from that include:
Buckingham Palace
The Four Friends
Disobedience
Rice Pudding
The King's Breakfast
Halfway Down
Poetry is meant to be read outloud. I read these and many others to Boy in his youngest years but, alas, he finally asked me to stop. Since then I've read them to the cats.
Now I know everyone loves Shel Silverstein, and I do too, but the other children's poet I adore is Jack Prelutsky. I am especially fond of his book The Dragons are Singing Tonight.
Get Up and Bar the Door (Anonymous)
The Owl and the Pussycat (Edward Lear)
Cats (Eleanor Farjeon)
Every Time I Climb a Tree (David McCord)
My Shadow (Robert Louis Stevenson)
Daddy Fell Into the Pond (Alfred Noyes)
Father William (Lewis Carroll)
It was that collection and A.A. Milne that I believe fostered my love of poetry. To this day I make sure I always have a copy of When We Were Very Young in the house. Favorites from that include:
Buckingham Palace
The Four Friends
Disobedience
Rice Pudding
The King's Breakfast
Halfway Down
Poetry is meant to be read outloud. I read these and many others to Boy in his youngest years but, alas, he finally asked me to stop. Since then I've read them to the cats.
Now I know everyone loves Shel Silverstein, and I do too, but the other children's poet I adore is Jack Prelutsky. I am especially fond of his book The Dragons are Singing Tonight.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Sisters
They are four of us; I'm the youngest. When we were very young we distributed the identities of the Fantastic Four. I don't know their names but my oldest sister was the guy who could fly and turn into fire, the second oldest was the guy who turned into rocks (very Hulk-like), my third sister was the only girl - who could become invisible and had a force field, and I was the guy who could stretch like rubber.
Later we took on the identities of the sisters in Little Women. My oldest sister was Meg and the second oldest was Jo. These fit in both birth order and personality. However I ended up being Beth, the one too good for this world who dies young (I was not-so-affectionately nicknamed "Little Miss Goody-Two Shoes" and was the child who came down with every illness and/or injury). My third sister, who is only 16 months older than me, was Amy, the youngest. Amy is the girly one, the artistic/creative one, the emotional and spoiled one.
I spoke to my sister, Amy, last night. She is in a world of pain. We've been raised to hide/deny pain in my family, so Amy is very busy. We talked for over an hour. Amy and I have lived together a good deal of our lives. We grew up sharing a room; we went to camp together; we shared an apartment (along with Boy's dad - my first husband) for several years; and we spent every Christmas Eve and Christmas Day together until we were in our 30's. Amy is a martial artist, like me, and we were in the same dojo for 17 years.
At one point last night she reminded me that years ago I had told her I imagined the two of us living together and traveling when we were old and our husbands were gone. She's thinking about this now and although her children are her life and she loves her husband she's good with the idea of ending up with a sister.
I've invited her to come visit for a long weekend. She needs the mental break. She said her family is "stymied" right now. I think some space could help her get unstuck so she and her family can move on. She had a lot of reasons why she couldn't come visit--money, the kids' schedule, logistics, etc. I told her that I had already spoken to Meg and Jo and we had a plan for every difficulty. She said it would take a lot of coordination, she felt bad she couldn't manage it on her own, but if we could make it work she love to come more than anything.
I told her we'd make it work.
Later we took on the identities of the sisters in Little Women. My oldest sister was Meg and the second oldest was Jo. These fit in both birth order and personality. However I ended up being Beth, the one too good for this world who dies young (I was not-so-affectionately nicknamed "Little Miss Goody-Two Shoes" and was the child who came down with every illness and/or injury). My third sister, who is only 16 months older than me, was Amy, the youngest. Amy is the girly one, the artistic/creative one, the emotional and spoiled one.
I spoke to my sister, Amy, last night. She is in a world of pain. We've been raised to hide/deny pain in my family, so Amy is very busy. We talked for over an hour. Amy and I have lived together a good deal of our lives. We grew up sharing a room; we went to camp together; we shared an apartment (along with Boy's dad - my first husband) for several years; and we spent every Christmas Eve and Christmas Day together until we were in our 30's. Amy is a martial artist, like me, and we were in the same dojo for 17 years.
At one point last night she reminded me that years ago I had told her I imagined the two of us living together and traveling when we were old and our husbands were gone. She's thinking about this now and although her children are her life and she loves her husband she's good with the idea of ending up with a sister.
I've invited her to come visit for a long weekend. She needs the mental break. She said her family is "stymied" right now. I think some space could help her get unstuck so she and her family can move on. She had a lot of reasons why she couldn't come visit--money, the kids' schedule, logistics, etc. I told her that I had already spoken to Meg and Jo and we had a plan for every difficulty. She said it would take a lot of coordination, she felt bad she couldn't manage it on her own, but if we could make it work she love to come more than anything.
I told her we'd make it work.
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