They’re Grrrrreat!

Look! Just look at the useful tin for putting things in I picked up for £3 at a Charity Shop! I don’t even eat Frosties (Frosted Flakes to my American peeps) but I love Tony the Tiger because he was originally voiced by Thurl Ravenscroft.

And who is Thurl Ravenscroft, I hear you cry? And where can I get a cool name like that? Have you ever seen the film Dr Seuss’s How The Grinch Stole Christmas? Of course you have! And what is the best, most memorable bit? That’s right! The song!

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.
You really are a heel.
You're as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel,
Mr. Grinch.
You're a bad banana with a greasy black peel.

You're a monster, Mr. Grinch.
Your heart's an empty hole.
Your brain is full of spiders.
You've got garlic in your soul, Mr Grinch.
I wouldn't touch you with a
Thirty-nine and a half foot pole.

You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch.
You have termites in your smile,
You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile,
Mr Grinch.
Given the choice between the two of you,
I'd take the seasick crocodile.[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/g/grinch/your_a_mean_one_mr_grinch.html ]
You're a foul one, Mr. Grinch.
You're a nasty wasty skunk.
Your heart is full of unwashed socks.
Your soul is full of gunk,
Mr Grinch.

The three best words that best describe you,
Are as follows, and I quote"
Stink!
Stank!
Stunk!

You're a rotter Mr Grinch
You're the king of sinful sots
Your hearts a dead tomato squashed with moldy purple spots
Mr Grinch

Your sole is a appalling dump heap
Overflowing with the most disgraceful
Assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable,
Mangled up in tangled up knots.

You nauseate me, Mr Grinch
With a noxious super nos
You're a crooked jerky jockey and,
You drive a crooked horse
Mr Grinch!

You're a 3 Decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich
With arsenic sauce!

That’s right, folks--Thurl Ravenscroft is the man with the memorable voice who made that song famous (and made the show a success) and do wanna know what? They accidentally left his name off the credits. GASP! I know. When Theodore Geisel (the real name of Dr Seuss) realized, he phoned him up and apologised and promised that it would be rectified. Well, he lied. How do I know this? Because I wrote to Thurl and told him what a big fan I was and how my students LOVED the film and thought the song was the best part and we were so sorry his name got left off the credits and we wanted him to know that WE knew it was him. I got a very nice letter back saying “Tell them I STILL get no credit!” and that’s how I know. So there.  Sadly, he died of cancer in 2005, but I will always treasure my letter.

That particular class was very empathetic and supportive of their peers. At every opportunity they would leap out of their chairs and shout “You’re Grrrrreat!” if anyone who struggled with learning had a successful moment. We called that “Giving them a Thurl.” He liked that and thought it was nice. I was very lucky to get such a personalized letter back from him--but that’s what we do. We write to people we admire-- write sincerely and personally-- and more times than not we have been rewarded with a generous reply. Sending a Self Addressed Stamped Envelope doesn’t hurt either. Many celebrities are grateful because they are not as rich as people assume they are. They are just working people like you and me. At least the ones we write to are.

So what will I store in my useful tin for putting things in? No idea. But whatever it is, it’ll be grrrrreat!

The Riddle of the Sphinx

A four syllable word is the answer you seek,
Playfully written by Heather the geek.

Thomas in his usual Eeyore-ish form
Takes no credit at all for this dreadful poem.

The first syllable is in city
Minus the y.
Stop looking so bored dear,
Please do not sigh.

The second is in bin but not in bun.
Stop rolling your eyes dear,
This is meant to be fun.

The third comes before the art of motorcycle maintenance.
I know it doesn’t scan,
But at least it makes sense.

The fourth is a boat
With a Union Jack sail.
Now can you guess what
Arrived in the mail?

The answer for viewers at home is:

Cit-i-zen-ship!

That’s right, folks! Yesterday we received a certified letter from the Home Office. I was worried as we had already had one and it was kind of a disaster. Well I was the disaster. About a week ago we received a certified letter from the Home Office. It included all the documents we sent (current passports and marriage licence) plus a letter. I TRIED to read the letter, dear reader, really I did. But the letters squirmed on the page like snakes and reconfigured themselves into some other words--the words of my greatest fears and I read it all wrong. Or really just made shit up that wasn’t there. I implied a lot of subtext that was not there. I phoned Spiderman at work all in a panic--which made him panic--and brought to him the offending letter. When he read the letter-which somehow stayed a letter and didn’t reconfigure itself into lies--he gave me the stink eye for days because what I said it said and what it actually said were 2 separate things entirely. All they really were saying was “here are these documents, we don’t need them anymore. Could we have your expired passports and proof that you were born where you say you were (birth certificates)” Yeah, I didn’t get that meaning at all.

Luckily Spiderman was home to take this letter and open it and read it first because Lord knows what I would have made it say. But suffice it to say this one included our documents and had the glorious words:

I am pleased to say that the application has been successful and you will shortly receive a letter inviting you to attend a citizenship ceremony. When you attend a ceremony you will be presented with a certificate of British citizenship.

I would like to think that even I could not have misinterpreted the meaning of that. But let’s not hold our breath, shall we?

We are more thrilled than you can imagine and extremely relieved. It happened so quickly--we were told it would take between 4-6 months to process the paperwork and they did it all within a month. Hooray!

This all stems from being spoiled in 1990. As exchange students from sheltered Louisiana we were thrust into London headfirst and we were given an unquenchable desire--a thirst for more. More art, history, theatre, lectures--intellectual stimulation that Louisiana could not provide. In London there is always something going on. Sure, we tried to recapture that feeling back in Louisiana when our exchange semester was over. We drove to New Orleans, Texas, Mississippi to see art exhibitions. We attended as many local plays as we could. But it wasn’t enough. We needed more. If you wait until you are older, more financially secure, retired or whatever--it may be too late to live your dream. My dad had so many plans for travel and adventure after his retirement  and died at the age of 56--having only managed a few of the journeys he dreamed of. We did not want that to happen to us.

Yesterday, we took the train into London and went to the British Library to see a small, but very beautiful display about Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner which included original handwritten manuscripts and several different illustrated versions of the text. We also took in an interesting exhibit about how the English language developed and saw a Middle English manuscript which is the first written recorded use of the word fart. Can you beat that?

 Then we strolled, nipping into bookshops and occasional cafes until we came to the Courtauld Gallery. We weren’t even planning on going there, but we saw a poster advertising an exhibit called Life, Legend and Landscape: Victorian Drawings and Watercolours  and we thought “Why not?” so we popped in to see it as well as their permanent collection. Very nice--the exhibit had a Millais, Rossetti and a Landseer just to name a few of our favourite artists.

Then we ambled our way to the National Theatre for a lecture on the history of Frankenstein from Mary Shelley’s book through all the film variations and how they differ. Fascinating stuff. 

Then it was back home by train and we were home and snug in our beds by 10:00pm.

This is why we are here. Thank you LC/MC Overseas program for awakening in us the desire, thank you Home Office for granting us citizenship and most of all--thank you God for all the blessings that you bestow on us.

Making it (doo doo doo)

No, this is not a crap song from the 70s by the Dr Pepper guy who went on to be a werewolf in London. It’s a Craft Tutorial! How to decorate a box with ordinary cheap household stuff and make it look amazing like it is posh antique that has been in your family for generations. OK, maybe not THAT amazing, but it still turns out really cool and looks neater than you think it will considering the ingredients. Why am I decorating box you ask? Well, remember when I was planting mud in trees (sorry, other way round but it felt like that) and I collected all those rocks for my storytelling? No? Then go back here and refresh your memory. 
http://spidergrrlvstheworld.blogspot.com/2011/02/like-pig-in-mud.html   
Anyway, I need a nifty box to keep them in that will also be a useful and beautiful prop for the story. Why should you decorate a box? I dunno, but when you see it you’ll want to make one too.

You need:

A cardboard box (duh!) I bought one of those heavy duty cardboard ones at Hobby Craft (thanks to Iain and Rachel for bringing me there) but I suppose any old sturdy brown box will do.

Some masking tape

Plain old brown shoe polish (the kind that comes in a pot not the sponge on kind)

I bought mine for 50p.

That’s it! Seriously, that’s it.

What to do:

Tear uneven pieces of masking tape and layer it over the box covering all surfaces. It is okey-dokey if the tape overlaps. In fact, please overlap because that creates interesting shadow effects, but more about that later. The main thing is to cover it completely with different sized and shaped pieces. It will look better if the edges are raggedy rather than straight so try to get all sides of the tape ragged as you layer. Also make sure it is all pressed down well--no bits of edges poking up.

Here is a picture showing the whole box covered with tape.

 Here is a close up of the lid where you can hopefully see the puzzle effect made by overlapping tape.

Then take some shoe polish on a cloth and rub some into the tape. Isn’t that amazing? I bet you didn’t think it would do that! But the polish stains it a nice antique brown and the edges of the tape get darker giving it that Bonanza burned map effect. Coat the whole thing with shoe polish and then wipe off any excess with another cloth. Let dry and apply another coat. Wipe off excess and let it dry.  Keep going until it is as dark as you want it or you keel over from the smell of the shoe polish (which was a bit wiffy, but faded as it dried.) 

Here is the lid half done so you can see the effect. Very groovy.

   A word of caution: Don’t try to do too much at once. The tape really starts to pull the skin on the pads of your fingers after a while (especially if you are a sensitive flower like me and adhesives bother you.) By the end it felt like my fingerprints had been pulled off which would be swell if I was master criminal embarking on a life of crime. However, I am not therefore it was all a bit ouchie boo-boo so please do take care. Don’t come crying to me if your fingers bleed all over your lovely box. I did warn you.

Here is the finished box. Isn’t it lovely? It almost seems a shame to fill it with rocks. I am so glad to have finally gotten to use this idea. You see, I am craft hoarder. I find craft ideas and I save them in a folder labelled CRAFT IDEAS I CAN’T WAIT TO USE (seriously, I have a labelled folder that is crammed with ideas.) I found this idea in some craft magazine 5-6 years  ago and have just been waiting for the right moment to try it out. I was a bit nervous it wouldn’t work, I mean--masking tape and shoe polish? Spiderman was his usual sceptical self but in the end even he had to admit it looked pretty fantastic.

So go and make a useful box for putting things in today and impress your friends.  

And Justice For All

The last of the Quaker Testimonies is the one dealing with Justice, Equality and Community. Quakers really do believe in “that of God in everyone” or to put it another way “that of Good in everyone.” I know what you are thinking--what about Hitler? Or Pol Pot? Or George W Bush? But hear me out. If everyone--and I mean everyone--is made in the image of God and filled with both Light and Darkness then consider the words of George Fox, founder of the Quakers.

I saw also that there was an ocean of darkness and death, but an infinite ocean of light and love, which flowed over the ocean of darkness. And in that I saw the infinite love of God.

There is an ocean of light and love in us all, but some of us choose to dive back into the murky depths of the ocean of darkness and death, but there is always light and love inside, even if it is buried and forgotten.

Quakers recognize the equal worth and unique nature of every person. Quakers were one of the earliest advocates for women’s rights as well as the abolition of slavery. This means working to change the systems that cause injustice. This is one of the reasons we have pressed on towards citizenship-we will be granted the right to vote and voting is one way to change the system. But not the only way. 

Quaker Advices and Queries 34-35:

34: Remember your responsibilities as a citizen for the conduct of local, national, and international affairs. Do not shrink from the time and effort your involvement may demand.

35: Respect the laws of the state but let your first loyalty be to God's purposes. If you feel impelled by strong conviction to break the law, search your conscience deeply. Ask your meeting for the prayerful support which will give you strength as a right way becomes clear.

Many Quakers have become involved in the protest at Faslane  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Faslane_Peace_Camp  involving the Trident Nuclear Submarines. We sent delegates to go for a protest a few years ago and I felt called to go, but knew I could not. If we had been arrested I could have been deported. Citizenship would mean I would only get arrested, should God call me to do something I believe is right.

Quakers also work with people who are suffering from injustice such as prisoners and asylum seekers. I have a pen pal on death row in Texas. Because I believe in the words of Sister Helen Prejean—No one is as bad as the worst thing they’ve ever done. I was profoundly moved when I heard her speak in London a few years ago at a Human Rights conference and have come to treasure my friendship with my pen pal. He may have made a bad choice (a very bad choice) but I believe he is a good person and I am not ashamed to call him my friend.   

Quaker Advices and Queries 32-33:

32: Bring into God's light those emotions, attitudes and prejudices in yourself which lie at the root of destructive conflict, acknowledging your need for forgiveness and grace. In what ways are you involved in the work of reconciliation between individuals, groups and nations?

33: Are you alert to practices here and throughout the world which discriminate against people on the basis of who or what they are or because of their beliefs? Bear witness to the humanity of all people, including those who break society's conventions or its laws. Try to discern new growing points in social and economic life. Seek to understand the causes of injustice, social unrest and fear. Are you working to bring about a just and compassionate society which allows everyone to develop their capacities and fosters the desire to serve?

   Many of the causes of injustice are on our doorstep. Cheap clothing that comes from sweat shop labour. Cheap meat that comes from intense factory farming. Cheap labour that comes from asylum seekers that we exploit.

Many Quakers are involved in peace keeping and negotiations between warring countries. Our Meeting House has sponsored and raised money for South East Asia Peace Projects for 2 years. How can we do the same in our own communities or our homes?

Being a Quaker means that I am constantly on the lookout for ways to make the world a better place. Every day I pray the prayer of St Francis:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.

Memories

One year ago today my dear young friend Tasnim died after a 2 years fight with cancer. She was in year 6 at my school the first year I was there and I worked with her often, helping her edit her work and increase her vocabulary. She was an avid reader and wanted to do well in school and was such a joy to work with. She went on to secondary school and I forgot about her as I was busy helping other young people. But then we got word that there was a lump on her collar bone and they were running tests. It turned out to be bone cancer. She had it removed and they started treatment and I sent her a card that sparked off a renewal to our friendship. She was no longer a pupil, but grew into a dear friend. We wrote often and after a year her mother gave me her mobile phone number and we began to talk once a week. I made a few visits to her house when she was feeling well and we made cards together. Tasnim, even in her great weakness from the drugs remained a crafty person. Her eyes could no longer focus and read and so I sent her CDs from audio library so she could still have access to books. We talked openly and honestly about illness and death--something she had not been able to do with her own family. But after 2 years of fighting, the cancer spread and she could no longer go on. She held on many months longer than she probably needed to because her mother was so devastated and was begging her not to go.  She was 15 years old when she died. It was very hard because I had come to love her as a sister. But I know she put more into those last few years that some people do in a lifetime.

Tasnim, I remember and I miss you.

22 years ago, back in 1989 on the 20th of February,  Spiderman and I had our first date. We were supposed to go out to dinner and then to the Homecoming Game, but over dinner we discovered that neither of us liked basketball all that much and so we decided to skip the game. we went back to our dorm rooms, took off our fancy clothes and put on some warm, practical clothes then grabbed a blanket and some bread and went out to the lake to feed the ducks. We spent a long time huddled up together under the blanket feeding the ducks under the midnight  sky and talking. So much nicer than sitting through a basketball game.

Then a year later in 1990 we found ourselves as exchange students in England--a place we fell in love with and vowed to come back to someday. And here we are. On the 20th of February 21 years ago, Spiderman asked me to marry him and he's been stuck with me ever since.

Spiderman, I remember. And I love you.

I wonder how much smarter I'd be....

....if my brain space was not taken up by 80s song lyrics? Spiderman brought home a treat yesterday from the shops--Journey's Greatest Hits on CD. And do you know what? I could sing practically every song karaoke style--much to his annoyance. I'm sure if he thought I'd be serenading him with Open Arms whilst singing into a spoon instead of cooking he would have left it on the shelf.

The point is I have a good memory for lyrics. If my brain space wasn't given over to thousands of 80s pop tunes how much of a genius would I be?

Scary.

Sorrow covered hands

Yesterday I went to school a different way than I normally do and as I was walking I could see on the ground ahead of me a rich carpet of colours. I could not tell what it was but the colours were magnificent--reds, golds, tawny browns, a bit of blue. As I got closer I realized it was a bird--a pheasant. A dead pheasant to be precise. He was not torn apart but but there was a bit of blood around his throat. He was lying right in the middle of the driveway to a car park and I stood there stunned for many minutes looking at his beauty and crying while people just walked on by. Some walked around him and made a noise in the back of their throat like they were disgusted that a dead animal should be in their path. Some just stepped over him as if he didn't exist. People in cars were craning their necks to see what was there, but no one did anything. I could not bear the thought of leaving him there--right in the entrance of the car park--where his magnificent form would be crunched under the wheel of so many cars. I pulled him by his wing (he was surprisingly heavy) to the sidewalk and tucked him away so that no one would kick him. Then I bent down and prayed for him and went to school. When I walked home he was still where I left him. If he is there today I will have to do something. I don't know what. But I cannot bear to think of leaving him there.