Name: Ella, a/k/a Elle, Ella Bell, Ella Sunshine, etc.
Age: 8
Occupation: Live Wire
Favorite activities: Doing cartwheels and back walkovers in the family room; collecting little pieces of paper; performing comedy routines.
Last book read: Littlest Pet Shop: The Ultimate Handbook.
This morning's breakfast choice: Chocolate cake. With sprinkles.
This morning's music choice: The Best of Foghat.
Quote: "Watcha pondering, Dad?"
Remember when Bess had her hair cut for Locks of Love? May has now done the same. She started talking about it a few weeks ago, and I convinced her to wait until after Peter Pan. The day after the play, I took her to the stylist for her haircut.
May has been growing her hair since she was 6. She has never forgotten the indignity of having her hair chopped off when she entered the social welfare institute. We've trimmed her hair a couple of times, but she had a goal to grow her hair below her waist. It was well below her waist (we curled her hair for the play, so it looks a little shorter in the "before" picture).
When the stylist put her hair in a ponytail and cut off the requisite 10 inches, I thought May might cry. She looked very unsure about the whole thing. I tried to cheer her up by saying, "It's just like what they do on What Not to Wear!" I also showed her how faded the cut hair was -- she used to wash her hair with bar soap in China, and the ends had faded to a reddish color.
By the time her hair was cut and styled, however, May was smiling. She knew she looked beautiful. And older. Her hair is black and shiny and feels thicker. Since the haircut, she keeps saying, "I love my hair." It makes me feel good when my girls feel beautiful. I've wasted so much of my life being self-critical, I think it's wonderful that they can feel pleased with themselves. They know we value their intelligence and character too, so I don't worry that they will become vain.
And I'm proud that May gave her cherished hair away. It was her own idea. I believe in giving children the opportunity to do good and let them make the choice instead of forcing them. My kids make good choices.
The school musical, Peter Pan, had its opening and closing performances yesterday. It was a smash hit. This adaptation included many of the songs from the stage musical (a favorite of mine since childhood) and a few from the Disney version.
May was one of seven dancing mermaids (fifth- and sixth-graders), and she looked lovely. The mermaids were the girliest thing in the play, amidst the pirates and Lost Boys, and they got a lot of laughs when they giggled and squealed, "Oh, Peter."
I was the costumer and den mother for the mermaids, and they were so sweet, thanking me for their outfits and giving me hugs. They felt beautiful in their costumes and enjoyed twirling around, and the little kids were enchanted with them, so I think the effort was a success.
I was surprised when May stood up after the daytime performance with two other mermaids to present an award to the music teacher -- all their own idea. She is used to performing and presenting with her Chinese dance group, but this was in front of her school chums, so the stakes were higher. This afternoon she and three other girls performed a dance, which they choreographed, at the school talent show. They were adorable, but my nerves are shot. I'm looking forward to a performance-free summer.
The mermaid costumes were loosely based on McCall's pattern 5498. We chose the fabrics because they were dirt cheap ($6 for 10 yards of the pink at Goodwill, and $3 a yard for the floral print); pink wouldn't have been my first choice, but we had a limited budget, and I think it turned out okay. I didn't want to make the attached top that was in the pattern, so I put elastic around the waist of the tail to make a skirt. I had to modify the sizing because the pattern didn't come in older girls' sizes. I cut the neckline and sleeve hems off some inexpensive craft-store T-shirts, shirred the center front and shoulder seams, and made a sash out of the fin fabric. I tied a strip of blue tulle to the girls' wrists and glued an orchid to a hair clip for each girl. I spent the better part of two weeks working on these costumes, and 
for a while my bedroom looked like a Vegas showgirls' dressing room. Costume making is much like cooking in that the time spent preparing greatly exceeds the time spent presenting. You have to enjoy the process or it will make you crazy. This project was a lot of work, but also a lot of fun. I'm hoping next year they'll do The Little Mermaid so they can reuse the costumes. I could use the break.
(And a special cock-a-doodle-doo to my fellow Peter Pan aficionado, Twigs!)
Minor victory: I got May and Ella scheduled for swimming lessons. This is the only "must do" for summer -- I want them to be competent swimmers for safety reasons. I think May will graduate this year, which is amazing because she never went swimming in China and this is only her third summer taking lessons. Anyway, a minor victory, but a hard-fought one, because I had to check the schedules at four different pools and coordinate with other summer events and activities, so that's basically all I accomplished yesterday. Next up: summer dance classes and maybe a vacation. One that doesn't involve driving or flying or any other form of transportation that requires fuel. Backyard camping, maybe? And I think I'm going to do some homeschooling this summer and teach the kids to draw and sew.
Major victory: Barack Obama. Wow. I thought I'd never see the day. I'm trying to stay cool but I'm a little euphoric. Let me enjoy the moment. I am hoping for an Obama-Clinton ticket. And a civilized campaign. Obama has enlisted Caroline Kennedy to help with the vice president search -- it makes me a little verklempt, because Obama reminds me so much of her dad. I love Caroline. Baby boomers rock, if I do say so myself.
Updated to add another minor victory: I just finished reading last Sunday's newspaper while coloring my hair. Woohoo! I am Superwoman! Eh, maybe not so much.
Last night Ella was sassy and argumentative with me so I sent her to bed 15 minutes early. Instead of getting into bed right away, she put away all the clean laundry, hers and her sisters', that was sitting in a basket in the hall. I came up later to check on her.
"Do we want me to tuck you in?" I asked.
"You don't have to," she said.
"I want to," I said. "I was mad, but then you put away the laundry, and that was a big help to me. It was a nice surprise."
"Okay."
"How is your heart?" I asked.
"Not good," she said. "It's empty."
"How about if I give you a hug?" I hugged her for a long time.
"It's about half full now," she said.
"How about a kiss on each cheek?" I said. "Would that help?" I kissed her twice.
She relaxed. "That filled up my heart."
"Can you sleep now?"
"Now I can sleep."
I wish it were always that simple. Thank goodness sometimes it is.
Dick Martin passed away May 24. He was the Martin half of Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In; Dan Rowan died in 1987. I feel like I just lost a really funny uncle.
Laugh-In probably had a greater impact on baby boomers' comic sensibilities than any other cultural institution, with MAD magazine running a close second. I still hear echoes of both in comedy programs today.
Laugh-In seems hopelessly dated and unfunny now (you can watch segments on YouTube for a reminder). It was not particularly original. Underneath the risqué bits about the Pill, LSD, and the war in Vietnam, it was essentially a ripoff of old-time vaudeville and burlesque shows (guest star Sammy Davis Jr.'s famous catch phrase, "Here come de judge," was stolen from burlesque performer Pigmeat Markham). Dan Rowan and Dick Martin were odd emcees for a show that fashioned itself as a 1960s-style "happening" -- Rowan, with his tuxedo and cigarette, looked like a second-string member of the Rat Pack, and Martin was a classic dopey sidekick in the mold of Lou Costello. Martin was Gracie Allen to Rowan's George Burns, and in fact their closing exchange -- "Say goodnight, Dick." "Goodnight, Dick." -- was an homage to Burns & Allen.
But Laugh-In was the right show for the time, offering just the right blend of satire and goofball humor. It was the Saturday Night Live of its day. The cast was exceptionally talented -- Goldie Hawn, Lily Tomlin, Henry Gibson, Ruth Buzzi, and Arte Johnson all got their start on the original Laugh-In. Its influence on us as kids was powerful; we talked excitedly about each week's episode in the lunch line Tuesday and repeated the show's catch phrases -- "Sock it to me," "Look that up in your Funk & Wagnalls," "Verrry interesting...but stupid!" -- until our parents were sick of us. We looked forward to the surprise celebrity appearances: when dour presidential candidate Richard Nixon intoned, "Sock it to me?" on Laugh-In he probably won himself the 1968 election. Laugh-In's frenetic visual style influenced television for decades; the first time I saw Sesame Street, I thought, "Hey! It's Laugh-In for little kids!" (No wonder my generation and the generations that followed have such short attention spans.)
Laugh-In overstayed its welcome by a few years. It's hard to believe that only two years passed between the final episode of Laugh-In and the premiere of Saturday Night Live. Even the crude early episodes of SNL were markedly more sophisticated than anything on Laugh-In. But it's doubtful that SNL would have existed had Laugh-In not led the way. (Lorne Michaels got his start as a writer on Laugh-In, by the way.)
Watching those old skits now, it's hard to believe we ever laughed at Laugh-In. But the 1960s were a crazy, tumultuous time, and Laugh-In gave us a chance to poke fun at our follies. Maybe you had to be there.
Say goodnight, Dick.
Today was a good day. I sewed costumes all day at my sewing desk upstairs. The weather forecast has called for rain for the past five days, but the rain hasn't come yet, so I opened the windows and enjoyed a fresh breeze. I put Randy Newman on the CD player, brought my laptop upstairs so I could stay in touch with my peeps, and sewed like a maniac. The kids were still off for Memorial Day, so they popped in and out. May helped me pin pieces together. The cats lay on the window seat and dozed in the sunshine. It was a pleasant way to pass the day. That's all.
I don't usually do memes, but this one seemed harmless, and nobody's tagging anybody with it so there's no pressure.
What were you doing five years ago?
Working at The Big Corporation and taking care of my 8-year-old and 3-year-old and feeling a bit overwhelmed.
What are five things on your to-do list for today (not in any particular order)?
1. Make a dentist appointment
2. Pay bills
3. Register kids for summer activities
4. Clean up my sewing area
5. Sew
What are five snacks you enjoy?
Should I be honest or make it sound like I eat healthy foods? I'll be honest. But this doesn't mean I eat this stuff all the time.
1. Tea and cookies
2. Cinnamon Dolce latte
3. Fruit sorbet
4. Cheetos
5. Cereal
What five things would you do if you were a billionaire?
1. Pay off the house
2. Pay for the kids' college education
3. Make sure my mom has enough money to live on
4. Travel
5. Turn my back yard into a wonderland
What are five of your bad habits?
1. Eating bad foods (see snack list above)
2. Reading celebrity gossip
3. Reading TV and movie spoilers
4. Reading train-wreck blogs
5. Fooling around on the Internet instead of getting things done
What are five places where you have lived?
1. Olympia, Washington
2. Seattle, Washington
3. Princeton, New Jersey
4. Newtonville, Massachusetts
5. Los Angeles, California
What are five jobs you've had?
1. Grammar tutor
2. Seamstress
3. Office manager for a group of psychiatrists
4. Editor
5. Writer
I'm feeling rather sad about Ted Kennedy. Sure, he appeared to be the ne'er-do-well member of the family a few decades ago. But he pulled himself together and grew gracefully into the role of elder statesman. And, you know, he's a Kennedy. It was sad when Jack was killed, and it was sad when Bobby was killed, it was sad when Jackie died, and it was really sad when JFK Jr. died. I'm sad for Teddy too. He's the last of the Kennedy boys. You know, the Kennedy kids turned out pretty well, most of them -- Caroline and Patrick and Kathleen and Rory and Robert Jr. and Maria. I grew up at the same time as the current generation of Kennedys and feel protective of them. I don't wish them any more trouble.
I have toyed with the idea of cross-posting, but I'm too lazy I want to make things easy for you, so I think I'll just link directly to my other posts. I have a new post up on Mimosa: "What's your name? Who's your mommy?"
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