Sunday, March 14, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
In the Honey Locust Trees
My apartment, a floor above street level, has these large, large windows situated in line with the branches of several honey locust trees. La Salle is a fairly busy street; both the Chicago Marathon and the occasional - monthly? - biker parades, often filled with naked riders, traverse past my windows. You forget they're scheduled to happen, and then suddenly there's this jubilant clamor, and people are barreling by and clustering on the sidewalks - so fun.
Whether the branches are bare, as they are now, or filled with explosive dappled orange leaves, the impression of sitting, living in trees is pervasive. I was thinking about that feeling the other day as my son and I , in one of our many mornings of birdwatching, were sitting perpendicular to the branches. A cardinal appeared, still and prettily scarlet. "See the bird?" I asked, and he turned and looked up, immediately, directly at the object of my question. He's become, in all his one year of living, quite the adept birdwatcher. I wonder, when we move, if his fuzzy baby-memories will be like the wisps I remember from Swiss Family Robinson of that house they had built in the trees. *
When I saw that Disney movie, I remember my favorite scene was when Mr. Robinson showed his wife the "butler ringing" tassel that hung above their bed. I vaguely recall that she even asked, "What's this for? Calling the butler?" or something like that, and they lie and he draws the roof away and there are the stars, right above their bed. In my vision of a someday-dream house, I always imagined having a ceiling that opened like that. In that dream house, of course, I also had a dashing partner like Mr. Robinson, but given that few men are as strong and capable as he, I'm happy right where I am, aloft in our rooms with windows framing the thick dark lace of honey locust trees.
* I also thought of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. That scene where they're running, then swaying in trees - those images were in my dreams for weeks after my first viewing of the movie.
Whether the branches are bare, as they are now, or filled with explosive dappled orange leaves, the impression of sitting, living in trees is pervasive. I was thinking about that feeling the other day as my son and I , in one of our many mornings of birdwatching, were sitting perpendicular to the branches. A cardinal appeared, still and prettily scarlet. "See the bird?" I asked, and he turned and looked up, immediately, directly at the object of my question. He's become, in all his one year of living, quite the adept birdwatcher. I wonder, when we move, if his fuzzy baby-memories will be like the wisps I remember from Swiss Family Robinson of that house they had built in the trees. *
When I saw that Disney movie, I remember my favorite scene was when Mr. Robinson showed his wife the "butler ringing" tassel that hung above their bed. I vaguely recall that she even asked, "What's this for? Calling the butler?" or something like that, and they lie and he draws the roof away and there are the stars, right above their bed. In my vision of a someday-dream house, I always imagined having a ceiling that opened like that. In that dream house, of course, I also had a dashing partner like Mr. Robinson, but given that few men are as strong and capable as he, I'm happy right where I am, aloft in our rooms with windows framing the thick dark lace of honey locust trees.
* I also thought of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. That scene where they're running, then swaying in trees - those images were in my dreams for weeks after my first viewing of the movie.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Note, the Sequel
Dear Universe,
Dude. That was so awesome how you delivered that INano, newer and truer (and free.)
Bring me a dishwasher, a garbage Dispose-All, and eliminate my debt, and I might actually promise to be a good girl.
Amanda
P.S. Nah.
Dude. That was so awesome how you delivered that INano, newer and truer (and free.)
Bring me a dishwasher, a garbage Dispose-All, and eliminate my debt, and I might actually promise to be a good girl.
Amanda
P.S. Nah.
A note on the big cosmic fridge
Dear Universe,
I lost my INano.
Please give it back or at least send me a new one.
Doubtfully,
Amanda
I lost my INano.
Please give it back or at least send me a new one.
Doubtfully,
Amanda
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