The Ladybugs Have Arrived!

The title of this post is probably a mystery to you unless you saw my Facebook post on Smiley's birthday. For the big guy's 6th Birthday we bought him a ladybug farm and sent away for the little critters. Just as we were giving up hope of them ever arriving, they showed up in the mailbox today!



First we took apart the terrarium and added water to the feeding station. "You strong," Smiley said as I pulled a wire loose. Darn tootin', kid.








We then unpacked the ladybugs from the mailing tube.





When it came time to open the tube that included the live ladybug larvae (?) and feeding gel, Smiley got squeamish. So I added the little guys myself.












He seems to love the setup, especially the magnifying lens built into the top of the dome. Here's hoping they give him lots of joy this summer!

An odd place to store a toothbrush . . .

What is this, you may ask? A few weeks ago the kids got new toothbrushes that had a suction cup bottom, presumably so they'd stay upright on a counter without needing a toothbrush holder. Whatever. Anyhow, the kids began to attach them to the vanity mirror. After a few days of this Lisa laid down the the law - they were never to put the toothbrushes on the mirror again.

So they didn't. They started using the bathroom window instead.

JFK, Ottomans (the empire, not the furniture), Joseph Goebbels, and French Indochina

A year or two ago I read the bulk of a late '40's edition of Joseph Goebbels' diaries. I did not finish the volume. Over time, reading the words of the Third Reich's Propaganda Minister made me feel tarnished and (I can put it no other way) creeped out. I had to put it down.

Even so I thoroughly enjoyed The Goebbels Experiment, a documentary which has Kenneth Branagh recite passages of that diary accompanied by rarely seen film of Goebbels life.

Joseph Goebbels remains a persistent enigma to me. He was an articulate, intelligent man capable of great emotion, and he seems to have genuinely loved his children. But - and it is the 'buts' that define our life - he was in awe of Hitler, poisoned by irrational hatred of Jews, and condoned the murder of his own precious children.

How do you explain that dichotomy? Can you even try?

Nazi Medicine is an adequately done film about the role the worldwide eugenics movement played in providing a rationale for the work of the Nazi machine. It was too heavy handed in parceling out the blame, almost to the point where the filmmaker ventured too close to giving the Nazi's a historical 'out'.

I enjoyed the documentary Gallipoli for a few reasons: one, it was simply a well done treatment of the chaotic 1915 contest between the British and Ottoman Empires. Secondly, it actually *taught* me something. While I knew the barest of facts about the battle going in, 95% of the film was new information for me. I love that.

A sidenote: I found the practice of personalizing the gravestones on Gallipoli to be a great way of humanizing those buried there. It is one thing to read a name and a date on a stone, quite another to see it includes a mesage from his family or something unique to the man, like the [inconsequential] last words he spoke.

The Battle for Dien Bien Phu is a tolerable British documentary on the infamous French defeat in Indochina. Very little of the information was new to me (nearly none), and it is so History Lite I think it would only enlighten someone brand new to the history of the conflict.

Let's be clear: even as a high school student I thought the French were idiotic to set up shop in a remote jungle valley, by default surrendering the high ground to their enemy. Equally puzzling: the distant location meant all aid had to be flown in from Hanoi, practically ensuring a loss before the fight began. Yowsers.

Still, enough about how this was a 'given' for the Viet Minh, an omen for future American involvement, and about how events X and Y and Z and W were writ in stone after the French defeat. For a documentarian, it isn't enough for hindsight to be 20/20. No, they must also seek to convince you that all parties were fools for not sharing the wisdom of the filmmaker, and sell you on the idea that everything after falls in place like - dare I say it? - blocks of dominoes.

It's lazy history.

In theory, the French could have pulled off a win. They probably wouldn't have deserved it, but stranger things have happened. And an infinite number of changes to, well, just about anything could have remolded our own involvement in Southeast Asia. History is only concrete when its done and committed to ink. Nothing is simple.

You want a waste of time? Try watching The Search for Kennedy's PT 109. I'm not knocking JFK here, but right off the bat I wondered about the necessity of finding a plywood boat that was cut in half and sank seventy years ago. The boat itself isn't essential to the story, as is the case with Titanic or the Edmund Fitzgerald; nope, the tale hinges on the heroism in the aftermath of the sinking. And let's be honest. Much of the story's value comes from the

historical heights JFK achieved later. Take him out of the picture and we have a moving anecdote, nothing more.

Robert Ballard, the holier-than-thou discoverer of the Titanic wreck, goes over the top to slather man-love on JFK, bringing in his nephew (!) to console a crying, elderly native who has set up a shrine to the fallen President.

The worst part? There's no payoff. They find a single torpedo tube on the ocean floor, have an amateur historian look at the screen and announce "That's her!", then explain away the lack of anything else (such as an identifying item) by claiming the ship is buried by silt and, oh, uh, yeah I consider it a war grave so we won't investigate further.

Blech. Mr. Ballard, I want my hour back.

The 2011 Passion Play

This is, of course, Easter week, and to celebrate Christ's sacrifice the kids school put on an extensive Passion play/Stations of the Cross on the final day before Easter break. I worked until the time it started and arrived late, getting a seat too far back to warrant picture taking. Thankfully my mother-in-law took photographs. Unfortunately . . . well, she's no Annie Lebowitz. But as Smiley would say, the pics are "betta than nuttin".

Here's YaYa joining her class for a song and then reciting a portion of text for the first station of the cross. She read clearly, loudly, and with emotion. She inherited her Mother's speaking skills, that's for sure.

LuLu's class did the 5th Station, and she was a reader as well. She was loud and clear, but was nervous and sped through the text. Odd that my most socially adept kid is the one with the most stage fright (which isn't saying much; they are all limelight hogs).



The Smiley played Jesus for the 12th Station. Lisa crafted the costume from an old sheet, and made the crown of thorns by purchasing a twig wreath, deconstructing it, and then wiring the crown together. Naturally, the next day we found a ready made wreath at the dollar store! It figures, eh?

He did swell. It's a shame Lisa wasn't there to see it, but as a Lutheran she's always been genuinely disturbed at the notion of a congregation yelling "Crucify him!" during Easter week. It has never bothered me, as I grew up with Passion plays, but I also think its important to remind us that we - as a species - were the cause of Christ's death, not a group of random Jews and Romans 2000 years ago.

Easter Week is here! Enjoy the holiday everyone!

 

LuLu's 1st Communion Retreat

Last Saturday, on an otherwise wet and miserable April morning, we had the honor of accompanying LuLu on her 1st Communion Retreat.

It began with the kids giving a brief presentation on things they valued in the world. Lu chose the world itself, using 'Earth' as her theme.







The parents were then pulled aside into the school cafeteria to meet with Fr. Spitz. He gave a very nice speech that had two main points. First, that the celebration of 1st Communion often threatens to overshadow the even itself, much as a wedding reception is better attended than the ceremony it celebrates. Secondly, that it is the father that is the most important example in a child's life. Right or wrong a mother is *expected* to "do the right thing", and so is often ignored, whereas society views a father as more of a wild card. Therefore, the child is more impressed when a father walks the line and provides a good example. A double standard, but none-the-less true.

From there it was back to the church. We practiced escorting her down the aisle before returning to the cafeteria to craft a candle for the ceremony. Having been tipped off about this practice from our experience with YaYa's Communion, we thought ahead and bought some religious stickers to decorate it.



Sometimes, it comes in handy to have a pseudo Martha Stewart as a Mom :)

I did not, alas, contribute much to the design, although I did call attention to a flaw in the ribbon. And I did pick out and buy the stickers, so there. But I was sick of never being in photos, so I asked Lu to snap one of me.



Purty, no?






Here's Lu and the finished product:





Then it was on to a slide show featuring the 1st Communicants, which sadly only included one shot of Lu (as she attends only as a religious ed student and the shots were taken during the school day). That upset her, but after a joke or two she lightened up. We sat down to a pot luck lunch and then headed out.

I can't wait to see LuLu on her First Communion day! I'm already so proud!

RIP Elisabeth Sladen 1 February 1948 – 19 April 2011

My heart dropped yesterday when I learned of the passing of actress Elisabeth Sladen, aka "Sarah Jane Smith" of Doctor Who fame. She was 63.

Sarah Jane was an extraordinarily popular character in the Doctor Who universe, and yes, of course, she is my favorite of the Doctor's many companions. To the preteen boy who had such a serious crush on her, she was much more too.

I found her beautiful and sexy, intelligent and adventurous. Perhaps more importantly - for the first time in my life I appreciated an intelligent woman determined to forge her own place in the world. Compare Sarah Jane to the shallow, deferential characters who, university degrees or military rank be damned, would melt into a sniveling mess of Victorian womanhood at the first sight of trouble. She would have none of that, and that wee bit of '70's feminism that snuck into her characterization did me a world of good.

And in those childhood daydreams of a life spent traveling the globe, getting in bar fights in Singapore and stopping the Russians from invading the West, I must admit it didn't hurt to imagine a woman like Sarah Jane at my side . . .







When she rejoined the cast of Doctor Who in mid '00's I was overjoyed - and found her no less attractive as she approached sixty.




RIP Elisabeth. You will be missed.

 One thing I will miss when the kids are grown and off on their own: opening the freezer and finding random, ridiculous concoctions. Today's contribution: a fig newton stuck on the end of a skewer.

D'oh

True story: ~ Two years ago I walked past a retail display and was sincerely outraged that they offered a gag gift called "The rapist In a Box". Then I got my head out of my butt and realized it read "Therapist in a Box".