Sharp, 'eh?

Experts tell me that in order to maintain blog readership, I must post new entries on a regular basis, otherwise, people will lose interest and just go back to watching videos of dogs doing handstands. That considered, mine is most likely to receive some type of "worst blog ever" award this year as a result of my lack of contribution to my faithful reading public. My blog has become the proverbial tree falling in the forest with no one around to hear. crash...

It has been a rough couple of days for those of us in the house standing below the three foot height threshold. Niko and Amelia have shared in a little misery between the two of them in two completely unrelated incidents.
Yesterday afternoon was another beautiful one in Ohio, leaving all but the memory of bitter winter behind in a cloud of warm polleny bliss. Since it was such a gorgeous day, I decided I would let Niko hang out on the back porch to catch some rays. He loves to bask in the sun sprawled with his tongue hanging asunder, stirring occasionally only to lap from his giant metal water bowl.
For some reason, though, yesterday he seemed to be fairly restless as he paced the porch and scratched at the gate.
Deciding that he had had quite enough of it, I let him inside and he ran straight to bed.
A few hours went by and it occurred to me that he had not asked to go out in a while, so I decided to wake him up. When I found him, I made a most startling discovery.

Everyone likes spring, am I right? I mean, whats not to love? You got your warm air, your sunshine, beautiful flowers, fresh foliage on the branches, baby ducklings waddling across grassy fields behind mama duck, itty bitty squirrels popping their heads out of dens for the first time, butterflies flitting, birds twittering, and the world in perfect harmony with its dwellers.
Oh yeah, and wasps. A whole bunch of angry, unreasonable, and spiteful wasps.
Evidently, Niko, being the fun loving soul he is, wanted to make friends with a colony of these flying little wolverines setting up shop under our deck rail. They politely declined his offer in the form of a dozen plus stings around his eyes, mouth, and shoulders. No wonder he was in such a rush to get back inside.

By the time I found him, his eyes were swollen almost shut. His mouth was puffy and looked as though it had been stuffed with pom-poms. Poor guy didn't want to go anywhere after that unless I was right next to him.

Fortunately, though, he is looking a lot less like the shar pei of yesterday and more of his boxer collie self today.

---------

Remember how I told you about Amelia's gymnastics class and the parachute being her absolute favorite thing to do in the world? Well, not much has changed in that department. In fact, it is my opinion that her love of the parachute has actually grown to an almost alarming level.

Most of today's gymnastics class went by unremarkably. Amelia did her usual round of walking across the balance beam, then over to the uneven bars where she hangs and giggles for thirty seconds and then drops to the mat in a full on guffaw.
Everything went fine until the teacher broke out the parachute.
The parents lined up around the edge, heaved the parachute in the air and all the kids ran underneath screaching and waving their arms as if the parachute were Godzilla about to bear down on them. As the parachute drooped Amelia came sprinting out so as to not get trapped underneath, but instead of stopping where I was, she excitedly ran right by me.
I assume it was because she was far too distracted about recently being under a giant sheet of colorful nylon that she didn't notice that her feet had reached the end of the mat. She tumbled off the soft edge and onto the hard linoleum floor. Her screams of joy suddenly gave way to something substantially less joyful.

I quickly got her nose and lip cleaned up in the bathroom and applied direct pressure where applicable. Being the brave one of our family, Amelia stopped crying after a few short minutes but the damage had been done. Her lip was now swollen and looked as though several pom-poms had been stuffed underneath.

Despite her sudden and accidental resemblance to Niko, Amelia is doing just fine. She was back to her laughing self in less than an hour.

Happy first day of spring

It is a little known fact that the word "Spring" is actually short for "springkler".

Twisted Fairy Tale Retelling- 1st grade writing assignment

Big Bad Riding Hood

by Elijah 

LIttle Red Riding Wolf's mom sent Little Red to Grandma's house to bring her a basket of meat. She was sick.

Little Red went into the woods. After she was in the thick part of the woods, Little Red met a woman. 

The woman asked, "Where are you going?"

"To my grandma's house," she replied. 

"Where does she live?" the woman asked.

"Near the bridge," she replied.

Hmmm...the woman thought. I'm kind of hungry, she thought. Then, the woman saw some flowers.

"Surely your Grandma would like some of those flowers," she said.

"Yes," said Little Red.

While Little Red picked Flowers, the woman ran to Grandma's house.

Little Red got back on the path.

Then the woman saw Grandma's house. She ran towards it, and then knocked. A weak voice called out "Who is it?"

Yes, it's the right house, thought the woman.

"It is Little Red Riding Wolf," the woman replied.

"Come in," the Grandma called.

Then the woman ran in and ate the Grandma all up. She jumped into Grandma's clothes and into her bed.

Not long after that, Little Red came. She was surprised to see that the door was open. Then she knocked.

"Who is it?" the woman called in he weakest voice.

"Little Red Riding Wolf," said Little Red.

"Come in," the woman said. 

Little Red went in. Little Red did not recognize her Grandma.

"Grandma, what small eyes you have."

"The cold."

"Grandma, what small ears you have."

"The cold."

Grandma, what small teeth you have."

"To eat you with!"

And she ate her all up.

She was tired.  She went to bed.  A wolf came and heard the weird snoring and he went in. It was a shocking sight! It wasn't Grandma! In fact, it wasn't a wolf! A woman was in Grandma's place!

The wolf bit her open! Out jumped Little Red and Grandma! Little Red gave Grandma the basket. They ate and lived happily ever after.

Not a Song

"We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams."

                                         - Arthur O'Shaughnessy

While working on music yesterday I was reminded of a very important lesson learned several times in the past; a lesson I have progressively failed to follow through with in its continued adherence, regardless of the heartache each incidence has caused. That lesson being: always back up your work and back it up often. 

I was in the process of adding several new instrument tracks to a composition I'm working on and, lo and behold, the precious life blood required of my dear friend, Mac, ceased to flow due to a power outage in the northeastern grid. 

My mind raced to remember when I last saved the progress. I couldn't remember doing it since I first opened my DAW and, therefore, could only assume it was the worst case scenario: absolutely everything I had been working all morning and afternoon was wiped clean. ***hits "save now" on blog***

I was, to put it lightly, a bit crestfallen by the day's course of events. I couldn't help but to think of all the work invested and how it all came to naught because of one careless oversight. Thoughts about how the arrangement would never be exactly like it was ever again no matter how I much time was poured into it were taking over. The happiness I was feeling only moments before in the satisfaction of a job well done, was now replaced with the sinking dread of lost creation. Things seemed hopeless.

Trying not to dwell on the loss, I began the laborious process of piecing together every drum, cymbal and melody, in my mind with the hopes that some of the more meaningful elements could be recovered. 

When the power returned, my fears were confirmed. Nothing was saved to file. It was as if the half day of work never existed. As I sat down to start rebuilding, it occurred to me, perhaps I was looking at this the wrong way. Maybe I should look at it as an opportunity to reinvent the song and make it even better than it was. After all, I was the one who wrote it in the first place, shouldn't that be sufficient to prove to myself that I have the ability to create a piece of music that I am happy with? Or at least happy enough to get a little bummed when the power goes out? 

So from my first lesson , I was able to derive another, and perhaps, even more valuable lesson: 

Abilities outweigh prior accomplishments.

Keep moving forward, people. Success is within us.

***save now***

Happy birthday, mi Amelia. March 31st.