Fall Leaves Memories

"This chair is too big," said Pippa Sandilocks.

Ohh...you wanted to hear about the Pippa Sandilocks and the Great Pumpkin, Princess? Here goes.

Pippa Sandilocks grew tired of posing as the Great Pumpkin for Knowlesville so she decided to find a substitute.

As she walked along in search of her replacement she stumbled upon a pumpkin patch.

There hidden was a small round pale pumpkin that felt suspiciously familiar, like looking in a mirror. 

Perfect! 

But when she held it to her head it was too small. 

So she looked some more.

Then she found a colossus of a pumpkin. But it was too heavy!

Her next find had a stem that proved way too long.

Poor Pippa held her head in pure self pity. She would never find the perfect pumpkin.

Then suddenly she looked to the left and there it was.

She heaved and she hoed and she nearly face planted trying to lift that plant.

So she summoned her maidservant to lift the plump sphere and carry it home.

And that dear Princess Pumpkin is how you were bestowed your crown here in Knowlesville.

Crafty Warlock

October has passed in a blur of leaf grinding, paper writing, and costume sewing. In the final hours I decided to rope Skip into a craft project...disguised as date night.

Did I say night? Because it spanned a few days for me and occupied a couple evenings for my accomplice. At some point the instructions were unclear and Skip painted a jack-o-latern upside down. No biggie except for the whole burning candle needs oxygen thing. So he flipped it 180 degrees and redeemed himself. I on the other hand drew all my eyes crossed or indented. Some people have artistic vision and mine resembles Van Gogh. Stay tuned for the Fall Photo Essay! We love Halloween.

Ants in my Pants

A few days ago I had a twitch. A twitch at the nagging thought that it had been a long while since the early spring-summer ant invasion. A twitch of the eery premonition sort as I found out last night. Ants have returned indoors. They never disappeared from the great outdoors known has my yard. I tried, with chemical warfare in fact. It won a few battles, but ants have unlimited soldiers.

Last night as I began to climb into bed I saw one pesky little creature on my ceiling. So I looked at the known entrance and found a dozen or so sniffing around. I was going to bait them, but the entrance in in a crack in the windowsill right above my pillow. When these unwanted visitors come I always find one or two creepy across the vast yellow cushion, enticed by my sweet smelling lotion. Seriously, one woke me up in the middle of the night as it crawled across my eyelid (shivers).

So I sprayed my room, then inhaled the poison as I laughed maniacally. Today I made the rounds outside the house, but I can't find their line. I think they've gone underground. Not to hibernate though, no they are planning their revenge. How do I know? They sent me a message in the form of a single scout.

Tonight while reading the ever enticing B. F. Skinner (required) I felt oddly not alone. A phantom brush here and there on my leg. First my ankle, then my calf, then my thigh...and I had a flashback to 2001. For eighteen years I'd battled the weird prairie land called Lamar and never had a strange encounter. But there at work, alone with the dusty floor I felt a presence. A presence creeping up my pants leg. I shook and shook and patted down that denim flare, yet there remained a foreign object. When it hit the narrowing of my pants at upper-thigh there was no denying something was crawling up the inside of my pants. So I ran to the back corner, dropped trouser and stepped away as a four inch stick scurried over the denim mound. How thankful are we all that no one choose the next five minutes to rent a video?

Flash forward to the safety of my living room and I just did the same thing. Although I saw nothing on my leg nor my bright white pant. Ghosts I assured myself. And yes, I take ghosts over creepy crawly insects. And so it was that I had a ghost BFF for the next 20 minutes, happy as could be, when BAM! The little sucker of an ant rushed toward my hand. It may have fooled me, but I'm quite large in ant dimensions, fast too. Plus I was armed with some unwanted study aide candy wrappers, all the better to smash an ant with. Game on.

Good Girl Caught Pink Handed

The little girl you see below has insisted on using a spoon to eat her "g-gur" for months. Like four of the five months she's been eating "g-gur". Sure it was disastrous at first. Yogurt dropped on the carpet, flung on the walls, smeared on her person and clothing. We ate it before bath time and and washed lots of bibs. No big deal.  She slowly mastered the art of loading the spoon and lifting it to her mouth. About two weeks ago I applauded myself for patiently teaching her, because I had one smart little girl who made nearly no mess. 

Then came September and with it an abandon for cleanliness. She started holding the spoon in her left hand (pretty sure she's a righty) and dipping her right hand into the yogurt so she could shove a large berry tasting fist into her mouth. Why leave it at that when more fun is to be had dumping the yogurt on her tray and painting with it before licking it off (fingers, spoon, tray, whatever)? When life's that good you need multiple yogurts a day!

So this morning I applied my degree and put a behavior plan into action. We started using the spoon together for a couple bites, then she did it on her own and all the while I'm saying, "Good girl. Using your spoon! Good girl!" That good girl did so well I forgot that she's one, with a short attention span and no idea what messy means. A few seconds after I checked my school email I realized my mistake of relaxing on the job. 

"Pippa!" I gasped, ready to scold her for using what must come naturally. 

She looked up surprised and a little alarmed. She does hate to be reproached in a firm or harsh tone. It causes many a tear. Holding out her pink covered hand she said, "I a goo(d) girl".

ArcHERy

Skip's latest impulse buy might not be a financial investment (he tells me guns appreciate), but he's certain this will create a hunting buddy. While he hasn't fully given up on me, it's clear that my lack of enthusiasm pales in comparison to Pippa.

 

Want to watch a movie? Of the red stag roar, please. We chase butterflies, call doves, stalk deer on our trails, talk to dogs, trumpet like elephants, and chortle with the horses. Her first word as I lift her from her crib is "outside" followed by a reluctant and prompted "please."

She naturally loves nature. Duck calls make her giggle...as long as she's holding them. If someone takes away her duck call she goes full on combat mode to get it back. And now Dad has armed her with her own bow and arrow set. I think there's a knife as well, but I might confiscate that.

In a strange way Skip is preparing for my care when he is gone. Pippa will be the huntress, stocking the freezer with organic, exotic meats.

New York Living Part 2: The Nannies

As a TV Star I needed an entourage. Or at least a nanny. My mom generously offered to watch her favorite Pippa and flew to New York City. Not wanting to be left behind Pa accompanied Grandma as the appointed bodyguard. With Skip as my coach I successfully completed my entourage.

Grandma and Pa felt the pulse of the city that first night. Grandma poached some balloons from a leftover party and while the baby slept with her parents, the grandparents hit the streets. They wandered here, there, and everywhere unaware of the late hour. I'm just happy they returned before the sun came up...which was when Skip and I had to be alert.

Pippa, Pa and Grandma hit Central Park and a big nap while we filmed. I'm sure Pippa practiced her animal noises, and I actually think she added to her collection. Up state the nannies took Pippa to see the Vanderbilt mansion. Pa seemed to enjoy it. Grandma had a slightly bitter taste because a kid-hating employee kept wagging a finger at Pippa and discouraging anyone from reproducing. While I agree a one-year-old can do damage to a house that would put tornadoes out of a job, Pippa generally doesn't break much. More of an abstract approach to interior design. By this point my TV career ended and I was able to join the tourists.

We doubled back to the City with at least one spot we all wanted to hit. First up the public library. The most amazing children's book exhibit in history, The ABC's Of It, was occurring at the exact time I, an enthusiast, landed on Manhatten. Fate. I tried to impress the importance of such an event to my offspring. She preferred to run away from me at any chance and attempt to climb the wiggly, furry, ten-foot, walk-through cutout of the Wild Things monster. I managed to snap a photo of Grandma helping her pose in the Great Green Room and one in the Secret Garden. There was also a car (maybe from The Places You'll Go?) which she adored, as long as mom sat in the driver's seat. We follow rules.

Pa wanted to see the Empire State Building and found out he could add a water tour to the Statue of Liberty. Done. I breeze over this part because it involved lots of waiting in line...with a flippy-floppy Bean. Pip and I were excluded from some of the Empire adventures because of that whole shaken baby stigma, but Pa and Grandma got to see a stimulated tour. Once we got to the top a microburst...burst. I stayed inside with our valuables and sent the nannies into the rain with the baby. I think she liked it!

Pippa may also end up in Asian text books. The Asian tourists loved her. Really loved her. Cooed, and played with her while we all sweated in line together. Then they'd hold up their cameras and ask, "Take picture please?" Who was I to refuse? My baby's an international sensation! Okay it was just a couple of sweet girls that asked. One of whom fanned Pippa (and thereby me) with a hand fan to help keep us cool. A fair trade for a photo.

I was also excited to eat at Serendipity 3 and sip on a frozen hot chocolate. So I dragged everyone up tens of blocks. And then I saw the closet of a shop, and a sign forbidding strollers. Look at the pictures folks. We were rockin' the orange City Mini all the time. Add in a two hour wait and I was dismayed. Grandma thought I could make a reservation for Skip and I which would have been fantastic had two things not occurred. One, I had no idea when Skip would join us and sipping frozen hot chocolate at midnight sounded tiring. Two, I read a negative review that gave voice to the kid unfriendly atmosphere and ridiculed the drink as being a lame milkshake. Dreams shattered with the reading of that review.


Luckily Skip made it to the hotel earlier than hoped and we were able to take couples shifts eating at The View. What is that you ask? It's the revolving rooftop restaurant at our hotel. Overlooking Times Square. And I may have eaten mostly dessert from the dessert bar.

The next morning was our last in New York. We decided to venture to a new corner of Central Park before driving to the airport. The airport where flights were cancelled and delayed, but not where the plane crashed. That would have been the other NYC airport. We were sad to leave Grandma and Pa, so we didn't. We delayed our flight again and again and eventually Grandma and Pa boarded their flight. We all had late night drives that solidified the bitterness of work vacation's end.

I never learned what Grandma's NYC "to do" was, she happily tried to accommodate Pa and I. It leads me to believe she just wanted to see her grandbaby. Grandma you are welcome to move in!

New York Living Part 1: Filming

It's been a couple weeks since our New York debut and yet I'm still not sure how to explain the rush of that experience. How often do you stand on Madison Ave with a film crew pointing their cameras at you? One day in 30 years people.

Skip, Pippa and I flew to New York to join my mom and dad at the airport. Then began the city hazing ritual of overcrowded roads, long lines, too much waiting for anyone, and a record heat wave. The humidity of the east coast makes me sweat retrospectively, so you can imagine how awful it was in real time. Also, had it been possible to take hourly showers I would have. It was not.

The first day we spent filming in the Beretta Gallery, this amazing boutique store filled with incredible home decor, safari inspired clothing, hunting gear, and a gun gallery. If you can find the time to carefully look past the jaw-dropping animal heads mounted on the walls, you also see photos of Beretta people on adventure and in the details you notice the inspiration for the engraved silver napkin rings, carved and horned walking canes, and wild scarf prints. These items tempted me to outfit myself and sneak through the Central Park Zoo on a "hunt." However, television comes first in that line of work, so instead I threaded a mic down my shirt and worked on my smile.

Skip has been waiting years for me to understand that TV is not glamourous. It's hard work. And if he thinks it's hard to try on hundreds of dollars worth of luxury clothing, then I will step in and take over his job. It's the spousely thing to do. (In full disclosure, the days are long and tiring). After a full day of taping we drove to Dover Furnace, a Beretta Trident Lodge north of the city.

There I met Haley Dunn, Olympian and shooting instructor extraordinaire. I love her and would love for her to live on my shoulder like Jiminey Cricket, telling me when to pull the trigger. Not kidding, she says "see the ridges" and boom! pieces of clay appear in your peripheral vision. And then my television career ended. Skip had to stay upstate to film another episode, but Pa, Grandma, Pippa and I headed towards the city for some sight-seeing.

Wait... I forgot to mention that Pa also shot with Haley. The morning before we left Pa had a chance to shoot on the course and Haley was kind enough to offer to give him some pointers. Pa couldn't miss! I think he found a retirement hobby!