Your best friend is having a baby and you are looking for a greeting card ? Not an easy task. 

I cruised several stores. First thing I have to chose between boy (light blue) and girl (light pink).  Does that mean children grow up believing that only 2 colors exist ?  Having a hart time explaining to the shop-owner that my friends are not the pinky-blueish kind of people she proposes a stork – very original. Watching my face crunching she opts for a sleeping baby in white linen, becoming blurred at the edges of the image. ..

In the end I chose a neutral card and added my personal whishes and comments.  But is it really so hard to come up with a greeting-card for the birth of a child without kitsch ?

Partly Cloudy: A Lonely Cloud Creates Hazardous Babies for His Stork-Partner

Partly Cloudy is a delightful animated short film by Pixar Animation Studios, which was named as one of 10 films to advance in the voting process for the “Animated Short Films” category for the 82nd Annual Academy Awards.  The list is international, with movies representing production companies from Australia, France, America, Canada and other countries.

In Partly Cloudy, the storks get their babies from way up high in the stratosphere, where cloud people sculpt babies from clouds and bring them to life.  However, in this story there is a real dilemma.  Gus, a lonely and insecure gray cloud, is a master at creating “dangerous” babies: crocodiles, porcupines, rams and even much worse.  Gus’s beloved creations are truly works of art, but they’re more than a handful for his loyal delivery-stork partner, Peck.  As Gus’s creations become more and more rambunctious, Peck’s job gets harder and harder.  How on earth will Peck manage to handle both his hazardous cargo and his friend’s fiery temperament?

Partly Cloudy: A Lonely Cloud Creates Hazardous Babies for His Stork-Partner

Please Share This:

WASHINGTON ” More than 2.1 million drop-side cribs by Stork Craft Manufacturing are being recalled, the biggest crib recall in U.S history, following reports of four infant suffocations.

Source:
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ap/top/all/6736230.html

Someone recently told me  that I reminded them of “the stork and the frog” cartoon. I just stared at them blankly having zero idea to what they were referring. They explained it to me and, of course, I nearly burned out my keyboard looking up the reference. But you know what? I think they were right. 

Most of the time, of course, I’m the princess-by-day-always-minding-my-manners-girlie-girl kinda girl, but when it’s required, I can scrap with the best of them. That’s not to say that sometimes I don’t want to give up, because I do. On occasion (many, in fact), the thought of being a pool girl in Antigua doesn’t sound too shabby at all. Then I come hurtling back into reality and think ”oh, uh uh. Never — but never – give up, girlfriend”.

And just like the frog in the cartoon, I never, ever will¹.

¹ As evidenced by this  blog post that is *totally* phoned in. I am about to pass out from having to work all day, play all night, and write NaBloPoMo posts, too. I want to quit so badly, but I just will. not. do. it! The bright side? Only ten. more. days.

I går var vi i Tervuren. Man måste åka spårvagn dit. Då kollade vi på en fontänstaty som är en orkester med djur. Det var en flodhäst som spelade bastuba, och en stork som spelade klarinett. Det fanns också 3 grodor som spelade trumpet, dragspel och liten bastuba. Det var 2 krokodiler som spelade trumma och bas. Det fanns en ödla som spelade saxofon och sist men inte minst en sköldpadda som spelade elgitarr.
ps. Orkestern heter The Bandundu Water Jazz Band och gjordes av Tom Frantzen 2005.

Albin

groda med dragspel

ödla med saxofon

krokodil med trumma

sköldpadda med elgitarr

groda med trumpet

krokodil med bas

stork med klarinett

flodhäst med bastuba

groda med liten bastuba

Alice

There’s a reason the stork brings new babies snug inside a quilt – how better to keep precious newborns safe and warm? In fact, baby quilts and quilted infant accessories, despite their small size, do a BIG job and they do it well.

Custom bibs – and matching burp pads quilted thick for extra protection! – make great baby shower gifts, especially if you want to give mom-to-be something a little different (I made guitar fabric ones for our great-nephew and his rocker dad). Want something the little guy won’t outgrow right away? A growth chart, custom designed to match baby’s room, gets used year after year. And speaking of baby’s room… if you can’t find exactly what you are looking for in ‘pink for girls/blue for boys’ commercially available décor, a one-of-a-kind Whimzie quilted crib set may be perfect solution for your special delivery.

More Inspiration…

Here’s the ultimate idea for wrapping your little one in love – ask family (grandmas, grandpas, aunts and uncles, older brothers and sisters, even godparents) for a favorite piece of clothing; Whimzie Quiltz can then sew these meaningful pieces into baby’s 1st quilt.

Start Your Bundle of Joy Baby Quilt Now ►

I had one of the most amazing birthdays I have ever had yesterday, but I don’t want to talk about that today. I want to talk about how it suddenly became clear to me today how my blog can basically be broken into various themes. I mean, I basically only talk about the same three things, over and over again, but hidden behind different word variations. It’s probably very shockingly obvious to you guys, and I am truly sorry if I bore you. I don’t mean to, but I have a one track mind. I am in love with so many things, but they usually fall under these categories. And I am sorry for that.

Oh, and my friend baked me a cookie for my birthday, and gave it to me in a little bag today at lunch. And I had some pineapple. Best. Day. Ever. MLIA cliché, oh how annoying. ;]

Marabou storks are all over Kampala. They are giant and absolutely disgusting. They are really big carrion (i.e. dig through sh*t) birds, and can most commonly be found in the dirtier parts of the city, picking through heaping piles of debris, food trash, human waste, etc. In fact, they don’t have feathers on their heads so that they can scavenge through & inside things such as roadkill and not get their ‘do all dirty. Gross. Not only that but they also have this nasty wrinkly dangly thing that just dangles off their neck and flaps in the wind when they fly that looks eerily reminiscent of a less attractive piece of the male body. Pardon my crudeness, but they really gross me out.

Examples

Now, I don’t know who the hell invented marriage but was sure as hell on drugs, and I mean serious crap, like Cuban or something. Who hates marriage photos? I do! Especially when there are a few thousands of them. It wasn’t bad enough that I had to go to the frakin’ wedding, now I also have to watch the 6 hour video and the 3000 pictures. Jeeeez! Don’t some people have a life???

There’s one thing people really like to do at weddings and after, and that is saying the magical “congratulation” word. Cuz that’s gonna make everything peachy. The sex will be good, the taxes will be low, and al that shit. Congratulations for what?? For standing up there and saying “I do.”??? Wipe my ass if I’m wrong but where’s the accomplishment in that??? Aren’t you supposed to say “congratulation” only after an accomplishment? Say it in 10 years! If they’re still together they might actually deserve it. Why say it during and after the wedding? What’s the big deal in two people standing in front of the altar, all horny, and mostly thinking about fucking the person next to them, instead of listening to the stupid paedophile preacher. He could say anything and they’d still say “I do!”, cuz the’re fucking horny and they wanna get trough with it as fast as possible. Marriage is a consequence of deep and untreatable euphoria, extreme optimism, it’s actually like being really high…

There is a thing very close to marriage, it actually goes hand in hand with it and that’s garbage. Men! This is for you… When you say “I do” at the altar, you’re basically saying you’ll be the garbage-man. Every man after marriage becomes the garbage-man. It makes no sense but it’s as true as Obama being president. The first thing a man does after the wedding is taking the garbage out. And then starts the rest of his life as a garbage-man. It doesn’t matter that maybe he’s watching the re-run of X-Files, or he’s horny and wants to fuck his wife or he’s tired and hungry, nobody cares… “Honey! The garbage can is full again!” So??? Sooo… well, the man has to get off his ass, and take the garbage out. Not taking the garbage out, can lead to a divorce. Can you believe that??  The strangest thing is, that before marriage there was no freakin’ garbage to take out. Well… I guess  marriage is one reason why people have garbage.

Now, after about 9 to 12 months something very creepy happens to the newlyweds. They have a baby. It’s like when you get married, you also get a freakin’ stork which you send on a baby-searching mission. And , damn these frakin’ storks are good. They always find one… It doesn’t matter that the baby is sometimes black, and the parents are both white… well, you know… colour-blind stork, shit happens… But have you looked at those little creatures? They’re ugly and creepy with their big heads, now I get why aliens look like babies. Cuz babies come from outer-space… The fact that they’re ugly is maybe transportation damage, I mean what can you ask from a stork who just flew a few light-years holding a crying creature by its umbilical cord?? Transportation damage is inevitable…

But why the hell would two people who barely get by, want a kid? Life is shit as we know, and shit doesn’t get any better, why the hell would two people want to make life miserable for another person?? That’s just mean! Talk about human rights… Did you wanna get born? No… nobody asked you. They did it against your will, they forced you!!! Sue you, people! You should of used Durex!

And now seriously, don’t take it all too seriously…

Olvasd ezt magyarul itt. Hazassag – morzsak

Yes, Nancy knows I have been really anxious to get to use this picture that I so shamelessly stole from her last month:

It’s a boy!

Yes, it’s a BOY! *doing the Happy Happy Grandma dance* We have a new little hunter/fisherman/baseball player on the way, due in March. My oldest son Stosh and his girlfriend Ariel will need lots of prayers and support (as ALL new parents do!), follow the link to my prayer blog and join me in prayer for the Gift that God has given to them for us to share…

http://kimprayz.wordpress.com/

“You simply will not be the same person two months from now after consciously giving thanks each day for the abundance that exists in your life. And you will have set in motion an ancient spiritual law: the more you have and are grateful for, the more will be given you.” -Sarah Ban Breathnach, Simple Abundance

It is frightening how many (baby-related) things one forgets. And surprising how lively they come back. The routines, moves, smells, colours, sounds, or my favorite, the  irresistable calmness of a sleeping baby in your arms.

Dear Katie,

How do Smurfs reproduce?  Does Smurfette lay large clusters of eggs?

Timothy, 26

Dear Timothy,

Thanks for another, um, interesting question.  I’m going to do my best to get down to the bottom of this.

Contrary to popular belief, there are three female Smurfs.  Smurfette, Sassette, and Nanny.  This takes some pressure off of poor Smurfette in that village full of boy Smurfs.

The season 3 premier called “Once in a Blue Moon” tells the story of where Baby Smurf comes from.  Keep in mind, this show was meant for children, and they had to keep it clean.  Baby Smurf was dropped off by a stork named Feathers.  No reproduction or egg clusters involved.

This isn’t to say that they didn’t have a Smurfin’ good time, but they never explain it in the show.

Hope that answered your question.  Here are a few links for all things Smurf.

Blue Buddies

Smurf.com

Smurfette’s Corner

A New York Navel-Gazer Looks at Botswana, South Africa

and Mozambique by Way of London

By Kyle Thomas Smith

Part Three

3:00 pm – 6:30 pm

3 ½ hour safari.  King-sized elephant w/ penis dragging like gimpy third leg.  Johnny informs us elephant = old.  Says male elephants kicked out of herd to wander alone in old age.  Nature has it that they roam slow & alone, chomping on trees; gradually, molars fall out, can’t masticate; die of starvation – all nature’s plan.  Elephant moseys in front of jeep.  Barely notices us.  Drags trunk, sways head, plods along, outcast from herd after all these years.  Looks like he accepts lot, tho, along w/ imminence of own demise – unlike us humans (hell, I’m even wearing Neutrogena Age Fighter hydrating lotion).

Drive along.  Roll over more bushes.  Sidle up to herd of zebras, standing in fan formation so if lions spy, they can stump them by running in separate directions in alluvial black and white.

See baboons share same space w/ them, as do impalas.  Buffalo &  wildebeest too.

All potential victims, strength in #’s.

Only, young impalas ≠ safe.  Baboons might decide to kill for kicks.  Johnny relates torturous story of young impala cornered by chimp who terrorized it for hours before killing it.  Ask him to stop imitating impala’s fearful cries.

Wonder how Johnny does it, living here all his life.  Knows nothing else.  Crickets & frogs sound like thunder.

Seriously detoxing from NYC now but don’t miss in least.  Exquisite African sunset flames across horizon @ ~ 5:30.  Johnny pulls over into grassy patch, scouts out region.  All clear.  All exit jeep.  Some excuse ourselves behind bush to heed nature’s call.  Funny how same behavior would spring us into police station in Manhattan.  Can take off jungle hat now sun’s going down.

Johnny opens jeep’s grill & takes out mini-bar stocked w/ beer & wine.  Julius, Julia, Graham & Giles have chardonnay.  I opt for St. Louis Lager from Kgalagadi Brewery in Gaborone, Botswana.  When you thank Johnny for drink, he says, “Pleasure.”  (No, it’s more like, “Plesherrrr…” like Cat Woman.  Quite sexy.  Been hearing that a lot around camp – heard it in Jo’burg too.  So much more sensual than “You’re welcome.”)  All standing w/ drinks now as sun goes down b/h African wilderness, where grass looks like parched stalks.  Graham says he’s lawyer, not barrister.  Didn’t know there’s difference.  Lived in England briefly, taught @ University of Warwick before returning to Australia, finishing teaching career & opening private practice.  Julia volunteers @ Melbourne Zoo; a biologist by training but takes lots of Continuing Ed classes @ U of Melbourne – far-flung courses like Paleontology, Ancient Greek Culture & Civ, & History of Mesopotamia. Renaissance lady.

Discuss American politics.  Still feeling everyone out.  What do they think of Obama?  Offer praise, see if they nod.  They do.  Graham says all Australia was hooked on 2008 U.S. electoral campaigns – & even before that, when Barack & Hillary were in blood feud.  Sarah Palin’s absurdity was plain as day to whole world, couldn’t fathom her appeal in US.  Tell them we’re stuck w/ her now; wish we could just have Tina Fey’s impressions instead.

Julia & Graham speak of enormous relief that fell over Australia when Obama won.  Told them I’ll never forget where I was, watching CNN on tenterhooks w/ Julius in our library, historic!  Easily one of the highlights of my life.  Both Julia & Graham’s sons recently graduated from U of Melbourne; like many Australians, lived @ home while in college; one would come home from school every afternoon, run to turn on CNN to see new dev’ments in US politics.  Am always fascinated by how every event in American life becomes world news.

Talk about attacks from right.  Tea Parties, for instance.  Boston Tea Party was re: “No Taxation Without Representation.”  These people have plenty of representation in congress.  No president since Lincoln has incurred this amount of fury, not even Nixon, who got out while the gettin’ was good.  Could it have something to do w/ Obama’s color?  Most on right are smart enough to deny it, but nothing rings truer to me.

Still more feeling out to do.  Time to bring up marriage equality & cast out any doubts re: whether Julius & I are partners.  Must get this est’d if we’re to make friends.  No one seems fazed.  Say Australia has marriage equality.  As natural as sunset/daybreak to them.  Wish same for us.

For however dynamic our conversation w/ Graham & Julia, Giles captures my attention most.  He barely speaks word unless we direct our ?’s/remarks to him.  Late 60s, white walrus mustache, puts on dapper windbreaker as temperature chills.  Like elephant, lost molars too; jaw not as dexterous as used to be, takes long time to answer ?’s, also seems to stutter – wonder if this stunted Giles’ social life.

Turns out, tho Australian, Giles didn’t know Graham or Julia before coming to camp.  Came alone, dreamed of going on safari for decades; saved up for it.  (Me: opportunity just fell into my lap.)  Retired from job as accountant for shipping co.  Born in India, father = British official, but family moved to Australia.  Has distinct “Eleanor Rigby” vibe.  Comes out in course of conversation, he never married.  Don’t know if he’s “confirmed bachelor” of yore (w/ all attendant implications) or if he was just too shy to talk to women or too unconfident to feel he had anything to offer.  Has 2 sisters living near where Graham once taught in Warwick, England, but doesn’t like England, so he doesn’t go see them; only went to London once & found it gray, depressing.

Again, when we don’t address him directly, Giles hangs his head & seems to fade into grass behind him, so we all do our best to include him.  Comes out Giles used to go on lots of trips by himself.

Went to Alaska & Antarctica to see birds, penguins & whales.  Wants to travel more but economy hasn’t come back & hasn’t recouped losses from modest retirement investments.

Watching Giles, I’m inundated w/ waves of sadness.  I know loneliness, know how much it hurts; before Julius, I knew all too well what it was to live solitary life; sometimes worry, if something were to happen to Julius and/or to us, would my only option be to wander off like old elephant until legs buckle & I expire?

Giles & Graham = ~ same age but Giles doesn’t look to have as much time left.  Maybe b/c he’s found less to live for: doesn’t have life companion or 2 sons like Graham.  Will his funeral be like E. Rigby’s?  (Sometimes worry mine will.)  Will his 2 sisters come down for it from England?  (My siblings prob’ly wouldn’t bother.)  Or will they not visit him in same way he doesn’t visit them now?  Earth swallows people like Giles up in time.  They pass thru anonymously & vanish.  Still, I’m glad they’re alive.  Been long time since seen such self-effacement.  Not everybody has to be fame-seeker.

Dinner

Candles & torches blazing all around camp.  Justin calls me over, points out hyena on nighttime hunt.

It looks up @ us, scurries into thick of trees.  Go behind bar, pour myself glass goblet of Malbec.  Stand @ edge of deck.  Full campfire burns in stone circle below.  Look out over fields.  Impalas gone.  Must’ve scurried away when saw hyena; am sure they know other predators on way to dinner too.

Justin & Jacky ask us to come to dinner table, announce surprise.  Lights go low.  Singing, stomping, clapping emanating from log ramp off to side of dark dining-room entrance.  Language is prob’ly Zulu.  (At least, I think that’s tribal language here.)  Enter main room.  Long tribal dance ensues, chanting & call-and-response, all that, imagine it’s anthropologist’s dream.

Soon shaman in heavy mask, frippery – frightening as faces of Tibetan protector deities – dances in front of us w/ staff decked w/ feathers, beads & seashells.  Lots of yelling, stomping, cackling.  Gets rise out of us.  Singers & dancers file out.  Presenter explains, in local tribes, when a man (says, “a man,” but might/might not apply to women) is afflicted with illness, he will dance full-out until he reaches state ecstatic enough to let in healing spirits.  What if he’s too sick to dance, tho?  Presenter leaves before I can ask.

Host explains we’ll be following Botswanan tradition in camp tonight: women must serve men dinner.  Julius & I look @ each other in terror!  Guy’s lucky no American women heard him say that!  Remembering my former boss Aurie Pennick.  Tradition or no tradition, if she heard guy say that, he’d be wearing dinner! Yet Julia & Jacky comply w/ “just-this-once” kind of ceremony.  Julius & I thank women profusely, fearing for necks as our culture has taught us.

Dinner consists of Bogobe (porridge); Seswaa (meat dish); Chicken Stew; cabbage; sweet potatoes; lamb; lots of rice and lethodi beans.  Ask dietary restrictions b/f meals (come to think of it, so do Canadian restaurants).  Told them no venison (feel bad for poor deers); no pork (don’t like); no lamb (poor lil lambs); no rabbit (cute as cats, can’t have it).  All well-prepared, tasty.  Dessert: Flan & vanilla pudding.

Learn a lot re: Jacky & Justin over dinner.  Both in 20s, been married 18 mos.  Met working cruise ship sailing both American coasts.  Jacky = from Afrikaans area of Pretoria, S. Africa.  Justin = from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada; of Irish/English descent.  3 wks after meeting @ work, both got assigned to separate ships, separate routes.  Both tried negotiating w/ co.; couldn’t get terms accepted, both resigned to be together.  Following wk, Justin proposed in JFK airport, Jacky accepted.  Flew to S. Africa.  Say they eloped, but Jacky’s parents = witnesses @ ceremony, so have to check definition of “elope.”  Went back to Canada.  Tho known for open-door immig. policy, wouldn’t let Jacky into country even as Justin’s wife.  Had to prove 2 or 3 yrs. of marriage.  Went back to S. Africa.  Gov’t wouldn’t recognize marriage, even after legal ceremony few months before.  Had to prove more time t/g to live there too.  Went to Mozambique.  Got bad jobs in hospitality industry.  Quit.  Heard re: Botswana.  Work @ camp 7 ds/wk; get 1 mo. vacation every 3 mos.  Meantime, meet fascinating guest from all over world, like us!

Find out from Justin that Edmonton = only city in world w/o rats.  I’m from Chicago & live in NYC, so don’t know rat-free feeling.  Told him we were in Alberta, Canada in July.  Met up w/ Julius in Calgary where he was working for 5 days.

Not impressed w/ Calgary, where stores close by 5 on wkdys, but then went to Banff & Lake Louise.  Some of most spectacular sites on earth!  Showed pix on Iphone.

Justin said Banff & Lake Louise = popular tourist destinations.  Said I never heard of either before going.  Americans don’t hear a lot re: Canada & it’s damned shame.  Incredibly impressive country: people kind, gentle – not bent on “making it” like we are in NYC or LA – no gun problems,

the Toronto police dogs are beagles for Chrissake!

Nighty Night

Only 9:30 pm but we’ve seen all sights for day.  Rest of guests turning in.  Julius & I head back to cabin.  Complimentary champagne bottle sits waiting w/ 2 champagne glasses w/ sugar-frosted rims & sugar-valentines on front.  Julius & I dim already dim ceiling lights & uncork champagne.

August 25, 2009 – Tubu Tree Camp, Botswana

Morning – 3:30 to Noon

Wake up @ 3:30 to get writing/meditation done b/f 5:30 wake-up knock on cabin door.  (No big deal.  Don’t have to report to work, so…) Julius wakes up w/ knock.  Both shower & I rub sunscreen even on unexposed parts – not taking chances.  All gathered round bkfst table ~ 6 am.  Choice of wheat biscuits; Oatmeal; Wheaties; Special K; Strawberry Yogurt; Peach Yogurt; Granola; orange juice, papaya juice, milk, coffee, tea.

Johnny already @ camp for while.  His home’s nearby, left late @ night, back to work @ 5am.  Same w/ rest of staff.  Hospitality = huge work but still better than 80 hr/wk in Midtown law firm.

Jacky & Justin eat w/ us.  Justin is learning Afrikaans in case they ultimately settle in Pretoria.  Watches Afrikaans soap opera to learn.  Wretched but useful show.  Not much TV reception in Tubu Tree but sometimes get DVDs of TV series.

Graham & Julia suggest Madmen.  Julius & I have been renting Madmen discs.  Characters such despicable, sexist, hypocritical assholes but can’t stop watching.

Talk about my grudge ag. Don Draper’s WASPy wife, Betty, who somehow got thru life w/o learning words “thank you.”  Julia feels Betty =  far more anguished & complex character than I do.

Oh, and gay character, Salvatore Romano, so unpersuasive!  Tell everyone, “He walks around like Liberace & he doesn’t think people are gonna notice?!”

Jacky tells me she’ll remember me forever for that one line alone. Just calls ’ems as I sees ’ems.

Head out on 3 ½ hour safari w/ Giles, Julia & Julius.  (Graham stays behind to read mystery novels & unwind before presentation he’s giving @ labor conference in Sydney next wk.)

See giraffes that have tick birds feeding on them.  Giraffe chomps on leaves, never minding birds.  See wildebeest, impalas, baboons, zebras, elephants.

Have to admit, patience wearing thin.  Fail to see why we have to stop 20 mins. to observe elephant that’s same as last one.  But everyone else  = enraptured.  Am to some extent but keep thinking should be more.  Wish I was more like Julius.

He looks up every one of 10,000 birds in Sibley Birds of Africa book. We see fish-eagle, storks, ostriches, herons, ibises, African darter, & malachite kingfisher.

Hard for me to stay glued to nature after lifetime focus on modern media and self-analysis.

Am grateful when we head back to camp.  Roaring through crackly sun-bleached grass.  Stop @ shady picnic area where Botswanan staff greet us w/ another song.

Graham also standing there w/ glass of guava juice.  Came along w/ Justin after putting good dent in book he’s reading.  Lunch set up.  Omelet option, bow tie pasta, chickpeas, green salad w/ peppers, sausage.  I choose pasta, chickpeas, salad.  Have another St. Louis Lager.

Ask Graham re: mystery novels.  Says they’re light reads, entertainment, welcome distractions.  I used to have high standards for lit.  Now I see even writing a book as creditable feat – unless your name is Rush Limbaugh or Anne Coulter, in which case, don’t bother.  Graham tells me he was once supervisor of associate named M.J. Hyland, said he used to tear up her law briefs & tell her she couldn’t write.  Says joke was on him, tho: she ended up getting shortlisted for Booker Prize for Carry Me Down.  Made me feel better.  I once had colleague who impugned my writing abilities.  He got fired but still want to hear he’s licking latrines in hell.

Mention that I read Malcolm Gladwell’s The Outliers. Gladwell contends that one only achieves proficiency @ craft after 10,000 hrs of practice.  Mozart started @ 7 but didn’t begin writing great symphonies til 20.  Most compelling, tho, Gladwell talks about how Beatles went to Hamburg as somewhat mediocre musicians.  Hamburg strip clubs, where they played, made bands play for 8 hr shifts.  Gave Beatles ample practice: over period of 4 yrs in Hamburg, they did 1,200 shows.  By time returned to Liverpool, they’d developed unprecedented sound.  If they’d stayed in Liverpool, tho, they wouldn’t have had as much practice.  Without Hamburg opp, they wouldn’t’ve become gods they were, acc to Gladwell.

Julia talks about how she’s part of 3 book clubs.  Keeps her in practice as reader.  Unlike so many book clubs, members in her group finish & discuss books in minute detail.  Asks if I’ve read Steve Toltz.  I cringe in bitterest envy.  Yes, I have.

Graham starts saying we should one day go to Kings Canyon in Australia, whose valley is accessible only by helicopter.  In fact, when they went, helicopter had to do all sorts of Evil Knievel stunts to make it down narrow cleavage.  This = enough for me to decline; say had hard enough time on charter flight to Okavango Delta.  Graham goes on re: Kings Canyon.  Waterfalls = luscious but w/ crocodiles.  In 1960s, American actress visited, got drunk & decided to swim from one bank to another, giggling & hiccupping as she did her strokes.  Crocodile nabbed her=end of her career/life & forest ranger’s license.  Vacation spot sounding less desirable by minute.

Dinner

Done w/ afternoon safari.  Someone new @ camp, reading novel called The Gargoyle in lounge area.  Introduce ourselves.  Olive-skinned man named Alan.  Says he’s a pilot who brought honeymooner couple in on one of the propeller crafts we flew in on; too dark to fly out, so has to spend night.  Ask what book’s about.  Says it’s about porn star who finished shoot & drives along California mountainside, blind drunk.  Bottle of bourbon on lap falls to car floor; reaches down to pick up & drives off cliff.  Car thumps all over jagged rocks, catches fire, which spreads w/ help of dribbling puddles of flammable bourbon.  Rescued from wreck, covered head to foot w/ 3rd degree burns, paralyzed from waist down.  Porn-star looks gone (turns out it was str8 porn, tho, where guys = seldom attractive), has death wish (as if he didn’t have one right before accident).  Plans to hoist his wheelchair on ledge of one of top floors of L.A. hotel, climb back into chair & get slobbering drunk; put his head through noose suspended from window-cleaner hook outside window; stick shotgun in mouth; light another bourbon bottle on fire on lap; & pull trigger after budging chair off ledge.  This way, sure to die dramatically; looks grotesque as gargoyle, so might as well fall like one from ledge, plus, while on fire = bound to commit posthumous arson & take others w/ him, which = one in eye of meaningless universe.  Only, he meets woman outside hospital who claims to be clairvoyant & past-life regressionist & says she’s had many lives w/ porn star.  The Gargoyle explores her putative memories along w/ her attempts to nurse amoral pornographer back to health & moral sobriety.  After giving rundown of book, Alan politely excuses himself & goes back to reading w/ wolfish relish.  Says all pilots in region are slavering over Gargoyle & passing it around.  Doesn’t sound like book for me, but still want to read since feel need to develop wilder storylines in my own fiction.

Dinner

Camp no longer risking Amazonian attack by asking women to serve men @ dinner.  Now all go up buffet-style.  Spread similar to last night: steak, lamb, Bogobe (porridge), spinach, steak, carrots, zucchini, celery.  Every now & then, Botswanan woman does shrill tribal call.  Wish she would stop.  Drinking more Malbec.

Talk more to Alan.  Says was pilot for Continental Airlines in Houston.  Wound up in same trick bag as most pilots in this economy.  Fewer fliers = fewer flights & less intriguing routes.  Felt call to come to Africa to fly.  Came on vacation, asked around re: pilot jobs, got one in Botswana.  Fiancée = flight attendant, still in Houston.  Salary in Botswana doesn’t cover cost of mortgage back in Texas, so had to sublet.  Fiancée cashes in discount ticket & frequent flier miles & meets up w/ him every couple months in Jo’burg.  Somehow make it work.

Confess to Alan fear of small-craft planes.  I’m no aviophobe but I’m only used to large commercial carriers.  Alan looks down, nods, can’t tell if he’s annoyed or sympathetic or both.  Refer to Miracle on Hudson & how I flashed back to it when our own pilot mentioned having to negotiate bird traffic.  He responds by giving detailed account of how that kind of twin-engine failure = extremely rare.  Also, of all emergencies pilots must prepare for, that is last on list & not enough hrs in day to learn.  Reassures me worst could happen in such scenario on charter flight = windshield bathed in bird blood; wipers would slap away.  Also, chance of engine failure & crash landing = chance of bottom of car falling out on routine drive down highway.  Also, most pilots for safari camps = highly experienced & used to work for major airlines, but, for whatever reason, came to live in bush. Feel better re: next series of flights.

Back in Cabin

Kick Julius’ ass in Scrabble, mostly b/c I spell “ox” & X is worth 8 points.  Fanciest word I use in whole game = “agog.”  Sleep soundly after whoop-ass.

My son started kindergarten this fall. All of the dizzying decisions to be made including how old he should be upon entry, whether he should take English or French kindergarten, got me so agitated that I felt like vomiting whenever I thought about it.

So, as I do with difficult decisions in my life, I did a journey to find out information about my options. I made the journey with the intention of finding out what the best option would be for him. I went with two specific options in mind – asking for information and guidance in relation to each one. Option 1 involved him taking English kindergarten for a year, then French kindergarten the second year. Option 2 was for him to go straight to French kindergarten.

I left for the journey from my usual spot. A stork came with me on my journey, and let me ride on its back up to the Upper World. We rode a spiral of smoke up, up through the layers of clouds, into the sky. When I got there I asked for any guides or teachers with messages for me.

A stingray made itself known to me. I asked about option #1. The stingray did kind of a steady flip, flopping as it went in a straight line ahead, on the level, indicating how things would go if I pursued option 1. From the stingray’s movements, which appeared to be normal stingray behaviour, I inferred this option would be easy, with just a few normal challenges, indicated by the normal flopping movements of the stingray. Since I was doing the journey before I went to sleep, my concentration started drifting a little. Images started coming into my own head about issues that came from my own going to school.

It was revealed to me that when I was in elementary school I thought any kid who was older than me, in my grade was “stupid”. I thought anyone that wasn’t the same age as me had failed because of their stupidity and had to be held back. I was very judgmental about these kids, and felt very superior to them.

A scene then flashed into my mind of my first day of grade 8. I had been living out of the country in a different culture and on the first day of school, I was wearing the wrong thing. The kind of thing that was so wrong I probably would have been beaten up if I was not with my mother. Perhaps my mother was having trouble accepting the fact that I was now in junior high, but she dressed me very immaturely for my age and inappropriately for the mid-1980’s! I was wearing grey cords, a plaid blouse with a Peter Pan collar (yellow, pink, grey, white) and a little string tie with it. I remember it so clearly because I thought it would be the outfit that I died in. I walked the gauntlet of kids who were wearing a uniform of blue jeans, jean jackets and black leather jackets. I may as well have been naked.

My mind slid down these tangents for awhile. I moved a lot as a child, and went to several different schools. My mind replayed for me all the times I had to go to a new school, the trauma of being judged, the exhaustion of trying to fit in. Finally I consciously stopped myself and thought “This is not a journey about me – why am I seeing all of these memories of mine?” Then the lightbulb went on. Oh, I get it. It’s actually MY fears of him being judged that are being activated. It really doesn’t have much to do with him at all. It’s MY stuff I have to resolve.

Once this initial realization sunk into, I finally got around to asking about option #2. The poor stingray was trying to go straight up a 90 degree cliff. He accomplished it, but his progress was steep and slow and not easy. He finally got to the top of the cliff and was able to stop and rest. Hmmm…seemed like a tough row to hoe, unless you absolutely had too. Looked like option 1 was the best.

After I was done my journey and had recorded it for myself, I researched the animal symbols in my journey. I took the lessons that were revealed to this point and continued looking deeper.

I looked up some information about the stork. I discovered that in ancient Egypt the stork was associated with the word for “human” – ba – as they had the same phonetic value. The ba was the unique individual character of each human being. I took this to reaffirm in a greater way, that my unique self definitely was present as I sought out these messages.

I also discovered that the Hebrew word for stork was equivalent to “kind mother”, and the care of storks for their young, made the stork into a widespread emblem of parental care. Storks would not abandon their nests even if they were on fire.

According to Walker in the Continuum Encyclopedia of Animal Symbolism in Art, the word “stork” comes from the Greek “storge”, which means “powerful affection” or “mother-love”. Hmm….so, my “mother-love” which was also part of my unique self came with me to find messages for my son. Perhaps this meant I was even re-mothering myself in healing my own past school-related issues.

About stingrays, I found out that “Anything that swims in deep water is normally symbolic of deep unconscious aspects of the dreamer. Stingrays have the ability to inflict pain wounds.” Hmmm…I guess that was an even bigger hint to let go of my own issues so as to best not re-injure myself today from the same source.

Final Thoughts
While I did get an answer to the question I went asking, the most interesting aspect of this journey (and not typical in most of my journeys) that it was revealed to me that my own lessons could be affecting my decisions about my son. What a good thing to know! Also, good to know that these issues had to be healed for my own good (and my son’s).

(I chose option 1, and though it is not easy, I think it in the long run it will be in my son’s best interests.)

As an adult, until I did this journey, I tended to think back on my many experiences of attending a new school as “positive” and “growth” experiences, that resulted in me being the “amazing person with many life experiences” I am today. This is the luxury of having surviving painful experiences – you can package them all up and revise them in whatever way you wish. But apparently, while I had many “life experiences”, there was also some unresolved school-related traumas, hiding down deep in the well of my anxiety and reactivated by my own child entering the school system.

Looking at the journey and the symbolism research together my lesson revolved around the fact that my son is just beginning his school life and will have his own challenges and traumas. It’s important that I don’t confuse my own issues from the past with his issues. All I can do is let him live his own life, and make the best decisions I can for him, learned from my own experiences. It is important for me to process and release my own experiences, as the stingray was there to tell me, so that I didn’t get hurt twice!