she had the Barbie-head, and I didn't

And that just sums it up.  I mean, doesn't it just?  The thing both horrified and fascinated me.  There has been a well-documented history of little girls torturing their barbie dolls, but this girl was already done for.  For those of you who don't remember, this was just a big, life-sized Barbie head, sitting there in front of you, and you got to do her hair and makeup.  Decapitated on a platter like that guy in the Bible story, and now she was going to look pretty!

Oh yeah, it was my cousin.  And I never ever would have gotten a barbie as a present.  Eveything was like that.  She had straight blond hair, I was messy brunette.  She had a pinball machine and ping-pong in her basement, wherease I had ghosts in my basement.  (this was my grandparents house: http://chathamhistory.org/archivehouses1l.html)

In a way, I still really want one, and in another way, it just reminds me of the Tower of London, where I nearly threw up and passed out as a kid when I saw the place where they chopped of the heads of those poor prisoners. 

I'm finishing up those last minute holiday gifts for my kids, and now I'm thinking I could probably find a toy guillotine online somewhere.  Don't you think my kids would just love that, and then their friends would be the ones who are jealous and traumatized!

small gesture

Eight years old, and learning one of life's universal lessons, of losing a loved one.  My grandmother is going to leave us, and for the first time Christmas is feeling bittersweet.  There is love all around and yet I feel so alone, nobody can really explain to me what is going on and their sadness just seeps into me.  In Santa Fe, New Mexico, I'm far from home for the first time.  The incredible colorful beauty of that winter made a permanent impression.  The ever changing light in the sky embraced me.

I'm at a children's holiday party at the local university, and there is a pinata that exploded candy all over the floor and I freeze. Mobs of kids run for their loot and I cannot make my move.  One of the college kids, guy with long blond hair (it was the 70's) makes eye contact with me and understands what's going on.  Not only that I can't go grab candy, but really sees me and all my pain.  My personal angel, he reassures and holds my hand and helps me get some candy.  Thirty years later I am still so grateful to him!

Scary for me about life is that small gestures can be monumental depending on their timing.  Someone can be on the brink of despair and it can be all the difference to them.

fingerpainting in nursery school

The easel is taller than me, and I'm swirling my hand around on the smooth paper, feeling the sensations of cold mush and watching the green and blue gradually blend into each other.  It vaguely strikes me as a weird thing to do, but I don't question it, as it is clearly what is expected here in nursery school.  One girl has a cold and there is snot running down out of both nostrils, slowly dripping, dripping, downward as gravity does it's work.  It's disgusting!  How she just stands like that and is more and more covered in snot every second!  Grooossssss!!!  I just stand and watch her, and she watches me back.