Posts Tagged With: Danny Kaye

snow!

I’m one of those peculiar grown-ups that loves snow days. I’ve been glued to the news this week in anticipation of the storm that’s heading toward us Friday into Saturday. I’m not crossing my fingers for snow totals just yet. You never know what track the storm is on till it’s on that track. But I’ve been assured there will be a goodly bit of snow in the DC Metro area.
We’re even under a blizzard watch! (That just means high winds with the snow, but it’s still cool!)
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!

When did this naming of winter storms begin?
I remember huge storms that shut down everything in 1979 (“President’s Day Storm”) and 1983 (Blizzard of ’83). I was eight and eleven years old for those storms. All that time out of school, my mom home from work. Playing in the snow. Creating huge tunnels and caverns in our yard.
These storms had no names.

The blizzard of ’96 saw the former husband, Thing 1 and I traveling home from Thing 1’s Godparents home in Delaware. We followed huge plow trucks through most of Maryland and across the Wilson Bridge. I look back at that and can’t believe how stupid and careless we were. Thing 1 wasn’t quite two years old. We didn’t have any emergency supplies in the car. We just knew we had to get home. We did. We were perfectly safe. And it’s an adventure we still talk about. But my older and wiser self can’t believe we risked that journey with that much snow with my baby in the car.
This storm had no name.

The Nor’easter in January of 2000 brought tons of snow. The snow was higher than Thing 2 who hadn’t yet turned three. Thing 1 had a blast out in our yard! Thing 2 only went out after we had cleared paths for her to walk through. If I recall correctly, Sundance, Girlie Thing and Boy Thing got snowed in with us that time. I’m absolutely positive I made more snowcream and hot chocolate then than I have before or since.
This storm had no name.

I missed the snow in 2010. I was still down in South Cackalacky. They called it “Snowmaggedon” but that’s not really an official name.

This impeding storm is being called “Winter Storm Jonas”. WTF? Why does it have to have a name? Can’t we just remember the blizzard conditions of that huge storm in January of 2016?
Naming winter storms seems utterly ridiculous to me.
Let me tell you something. I’ll not be calling it “Winter Storm Jonas”.

The boys come home from their mom’s Friday. I’m equally excited and disappointed by this.
Part of me wants to be snowed in with just YBW. Sundance was teasing me about just wanting to run loose naked during the snow.
It’s not that. It’s that I’m selfish. I love that feeling of being just we two against the elements. I love that we don’t have to do anything we don’t want to. I love that we can do whatever it is we’d like. And yes, a fair bit of nudity wouldn’t suck.
But with the boys here it’s different. They’re not terribly active humans and won’t want to go out and play in the snow. I don’t know if they were with their peers they’d be more inclined to play in the snow.
Thing C, God love him. He’ll help shovel or whatever without complaint because he’s just a good guy.
It makes me sad. I always feel like a little girl when it snows and want to play! These are not the ‘kids’ to do that. Thing G won’t leave his computer unless we hold a gun to his head. Thing C will watch TV or be on his computer. YBW will watch TV or be on his computer. Which means I’ll be reading, writing or watching TV too. Now, that’s not all bad…it will be blizzard conditions.

I’m gonna go out and play in the snow with or without these boys. I’ll pretend I’m a little girl and play play play!
I’ll make snowcream and hot chocolate and watch the snow fall.
I absolutely love when it snows!

Can you hear me singing?
I’ll soon be there with snow…
I’ll wash my hair with snow…
And with a spade of snow…
I’ll build a man that’s made of snow…
Go to sleep and dream of snow…

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Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

life’s great big canvas

Life is a great big canvas, throw all the paint you can at it. ~ Danny Kaye

I find this concept fascinating.
It makes absolute sense, if you consider your life a blank canvas and paint it as you go along.
Think about the people you know. The people you love. How do they paint their canvases?

Little children fling paint like mad. Some of it may not even hit the canvas. It may be a hot mess, but still beautiful to behold.

I can think of some who plan out their art with laser sharp precision. I may be stylistically stunning, but what does it make you feel when you look at it? What do they feel when they look at it?

(I’m not saying we should paint our life canvases for other people’s eyes, but if this is the concept with which we’re going, we’re going to see other canvases just as others will see the canvas each of us paints.)

What about those who paint their canvas with precious little color? Surely there are those who throw only black or gray at the canvas of life.
(I can’t help feeling that is sad. But it’s not my canvas, perhaps it’s the most beautiful painting ever created even if it’s devoid of color.)

Some folks are abstract, right? The canvas doesn’t reveal an image necessarily, but you see the passion with with the paint was thrown.

There are those who continually reinvent themselves. Does that mean there are countless “overpaints”?

How about the canvases that are completely covered? With paint thrown so that it rises off the canvas. Is this evidence of a life well lived? Or is it an example of absolute chaos?

If I examine my own life canvas I can “see” a great deal of purple at the beginning of my painting. It was my favorite color when I was a little girl. It’s slapped on there without rhyme or reason.
Then there are loads of rainbows. I’ve loved rainbows ever since I can remember.
After this I see evidence of outside influences. Having to conform. At school. At home. It looks more like coloring inside the lines than throwing paint as expression of self. I’m actually quite good at coloring inside the lines. Though it wouldn’t be my first choice, especially then.
There is a great deal of red after that. Dark heart’s blood red in great splashes. It’s from a time in my life that was filled with pain and anger.
I see brightness of color in great big splotches. (Not quite polka dots, but close.) It’s more tactile, I can see how I painted with my fingers. It is filled with joy and wild abandon, and more love than has ever been present on my canvas of life. This portion of the painting is enormous.
But following that comes nothing but gray. It’s the kind of gray that feels like a prison. What’s interesting is that within this gray are little flashes of light and color. They are fleeting. The gray permeates the canvas.
A great black slash follows.
And I begin to see timid strokes of color that grow into broad bursts of color. So much pink. And green. I see abstract rainbow colors together. But not a traditional rainbow. Yellow comes to play. Also light blue.

I expect to have many more years to throw paint at my life canvas.
I don’t know if we realize how important it is that we consider life this way. To chuck paint blindly. To make meaningful symbols. To embrace life so fully that no matter how the paint is applied the canvas is the most creative and beautiful work of art.

Danny Kaye knew what was up. Throw as much paint as you can at the canvas of your life! Make it the most wonderful visual example of who you are.
If you’re lucky, you’ll have people in your life who will invite you to throw some paint at their canvas and ask permission to do the same with yours.
Remember this: Some people will think it’s beautiful and some will criticize it. Disregard that and ask yourself if you think it’s beautiful. It’s your canvas. It represents your life. If you find it beautiful, isn’t that all that matters?

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

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