Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
My blog post yesterday made me start to reminisce a little bit. Most people don’t know much about Beatrix Potter. Sure, they know about Peter Rabbit. Some people know about Mrs. Tiggy Winkle. But when I mention Hunca Munca or the roly-poly pudding, I get either blank stares or “should I be concerned about your mental health?” looks.
When I was very very young, I received the Complete Tales of Beatrix Potter, and for a long time, the tales were my bedtime story of choice.
She was well-educated and even had private art lessons, but most of her talent was developed by her own practice. Beatrix wanted to attend school at the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, but she was rejected since she was a woman. She made observations about fungi that allowed her to be considered an expert mycologist (fungus studying person). She was still, however, not allowed to attend meetings of fungus societies because of her womanliness.
She wrote a total of 23 books for children. Wikipedia says that “part of their popularity was due to the quality of her illustrations: the animal characters are full of personality, but are deeply based in natural actions” and I agree. Thank you, Wikipedia, for putting it so eloquently.
Two favourites of mine were The Tale of Two Bad Mice and the Tale of Samuel Whiskers, or The Roly-Poly Pudding.
In the Tale of Two Bad Mice, Hunca Munca and Tom Thumb break into a doll’s house and try to eat their food. It’s a very nice dollhouse, so the food looks real but it’s all plastic! They try to break the food off the plates but it all shatters. They get very frustrated and mess up the rest of the house, throwing all of the dolls’ clothes out of the window to bring back to their nest. The dolls return to their house just as Hunca Munca and Tom Thumb are running away, but Hunca Munca returns later to clean the house.
Anna Maria ties him up and puts dough around him, but Samuel Whiskers complains that he is too dusty. They try to roll him out with a rolling pin, which is fortunate for Tom, because his mother heard the rolling sounds and called John Joiner, the carpenter. He pulls up the floorboards, the rats run away, and dusty, pastry-y Tom is rescued.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
In my attempt to blog more often, I'm going to include a post about the horrors of being a cat owner. Of course, I love my cat. But I'm sure this is a situation that every cat owner has dealt with at some point. And it has to do with these furry guys:
Anyway, so I was asleep. Minding my own business. Dreaming about something. I know that I was dreaming because I distinctly remember my dream oddly turning into me writing something with a pencil that had very squeaky lead.
Suddenly, I realized that I was dreaming, but also awake (does that ever happen to you? I hope it does or else I sound crazy). Now, my brain somehow registered that squeaky pencils were not a normal nighttime sound.
I was instantly wide awake because I also noticed that Jack was on my bed. And he was making some very sporadic movements. My brain was able to piece these two facts together very quickly.
I turned on my light, and - of course - there was Jack on my bed with his present for me. A live mouse. That was squeaking (hence my awake-dream).