I mean really fly one, where the wind lifts it higher and higher and higher.
So high, I’d have to crank my head back like Pez dispenser to see my colorful bit of airborne joy.
I finally got my chance at a recent Kite Festival.
I told everyone I was taking the kids. But really, JM3 and Super G were two living excuses for me to feel a little of what the Wright Brothers felt.
After a few false starts with a pair of $4.99 dragon kites that refused to fly, we snagged some free samples and caught nothin’ but big air from then on.
It was glorious and as Super G said, “Super duper, duper fun!”
Now she asks to go every weekend. The wind gods don’t make it easy, but He did give her two feet that fly like the wind.
And sometimes, the final product – be it video or print story – comes out better than you imagined. It’s lovely when the two come together.
This is one example. Andrea Bedson and her dog, Victor, compete in dog agility but do tricks for kicks.
Spending time with the pair almost made me want a dog. JM3 and Super G have been asking about one forever. But no matter how talented Victor was, I’m not ready to take on anyone else in who isn’t going to grow up, move out and get a job.
Still, one can dream.
The views expressed on this site are my own and do not necessarily represent the positions, strategies or opinions of the Richmond Times-Dispatch.
I’ve heard plenty of things shouted at sports events, but this is a new one:
“Block of wood! Block of Wood! Block of Wood!”
If that isn’t a vivid enough picture, imagine more than two dozen energized 7, 8 and 9-year-old boys screaming it at the top of their lungs. Can you hear it?
Well then, welcome the Cub Scout Pinewood Derby.
It was NASCAR in pine miniature – on wood. And yes, those boards saw their share of bumpin’ and bangin’.
JM3, who made his first appearance in the Derby with the 99 car , got loose early on and nearly knocked another driver off the track. That mishap and bent tailpipes put him behind. But soon, JM3 found his groove and the car he numbered in honor of NASCAR’s Carl Edwards went on to win seven races.
The competition, however, was stiff and much more swift. After two hours of racing, JM3 was 22nd out of 39. (That driver will get the “Most Fuel Efficient Car” award.)
I worried JM3 might be upset about his showing, but he’s maturing faster than I realized. When we pulled into the driveway he said:
“I placed third a few times, but I didn’t care. I had fun.”
Super G was proud, too, and had this to say to the boy who yelled the loudest and most often for his own car: “It’s not all about winning.”
Not just the fluff, but the well-done, strong story vehicles that leave you contemplating them for days.
Since I started shooting video two years ago, I watch movies as much now for camera techniques as plot. I love story telling and the idea of telling something I imagined as a feature or short film becomes more and more enticing as the days pass.
In the meantime, while I ponder the possibilites, I marvel at what the experts are creating. Here are a couple of my favorites.
The one above features slow motion cinematography while director Philip Bloom shot the one below with Canon 5D and 7D digital SLRs at Skywalker Ranch.
Yes, the home of George Lucas, creator of that Skywalker.
The 7-minute beauty is so crisp you’ll try to dip your hand in the pond.
(I hear my department is getting some of the same cameras to play with next week. Bloom’s work has inspired me to take one of them for a video test run.)
For behind-the-scenes details about the project, read Bloom’s blog.
My sister and I watched them religiously every Sunday when we were kids. We’d dance around and sing the theme song:
It’s time to play the music.
It’s time to light the lights.
It’s time to meet the Muppets on the Muppet Show tonight.
I even wanted to work for Jim Henson and when classmates would laugh at my love of making bears, I throw out the Muppet card. If he could make his creations come to life and make money, so could I.
I still have the editorial cartoons that ran when Henson died. My favorite is Big Bird and Kermit, I think, crying on a park bench.
So, it’s good to see the Muppet Studios are still doing what they do best. (Yes, my kids watch some Sesame Street, but it’s not the Muppet Show and the musical numbers aren’t the same.)
The clothing casualties are adding up: I’ve ripped one coat shoveling; ruined a pair of leather gloves spreading salt; and ripped a hole in said gloves.
We’ve also lost one snow shovel in an act of kindness. My husband lent it to a sheriff who was stuck. He brought it back broken.
What is it they say about no good deed goes unpunished?
Still, we haven’t stopped lending our shovels – or complaining. Case in point: My son’s school decided to close 15-20 minutes before he was supposed to be there yesterday. Luckily, we hadn’t left yet.
Had my son ridden the bus, we would’ve had to turn around and get him. Other parents did. Talk about unhappy.
Many teachers who made the trek to work were just as bent.
By the time we made it home under clear skies, we had a heartfelt apology message from the school district. But all the stress could’ve been avoided.
Tomorrow won’t be a repeat. There’s no snow in the forecast and just in case: JM3’s school opens two hours late.
I’ve never seen this much snow in one winter.
Not even in the 10-plus years I lived in Philly after moving there from California. My mom got 30 inches last weekend in Philly. My uncle in DC? Close to 40 or some equally crazy number.
It was so bad up there (Northern VA) that officials gave up on plowing and told people to stay home.
I made the white-knuckle ride to work with my husband at the wheel. Here’s how the roads looked along the way.
They predicted eight-plus inches for the area and boy here it is. This storm wasn’t as bad as December’s, but you try shoveling snow in a downpour of snowflakes.
They were cute when I was taking snaps of the dynamic duo trying to eat them, but murder on my back once they piled up on my shovel. As fast as I could clean a spot, more flakes plummeted to cover it.
I gave up after an hour and came in for hot chocolate with Super G and JM3, who crushed his chocolate, striped, shortbread cookies into his cocoa.
Meanwhile, Super G rattled on and on to my sister in-between slurps that she came in early because her hands were super, duper, duper, DUPER cold.
I am not a political junkie, but I love an interesting story.
Often, that very thing can be found when people share their backstories. Politicians like Robert F. McDonnell included.
McDonnell, who was sworn in is as Virginia’s 71st governor Saturday, wasn’t always a politician with aspirations of living in the state’s executive mansion.
We all were someone or something else before our careers and families took the top spots in our bios.
I was an aspiring artist and teddy-bear-maker longer than I’ve been JM2’s wife or mother to Super G and JM3. I was also a fiction writer with dreams of becoming a novelist before I went the reality route and joined the ever-changing newspaper and multimedia journalism fields.
My connection to my former selves has ebbed and flowed these past decades. But this year, I am making a daily effort to tap into that which shaped and made me happy.
Me, the individual. Me, the woman. Me, the dreamer.
I’m not being less responsible to those I love. I’m simply adding myself to the list.
That aside, it is fascinating to hear how lessons learned on, say, one boy’s concrete football fields, helped guide the plays and journeys of the man he became.
The views expressed on this site are my own and do not necessarily represent the positions, strategies or opinions of the Richmond Times-Dispatch.
Sometimes life feels like a never-ending game of Candyland.
The game itself is straightforward: Pick a card from the stack; move the exact number of spaces; and the first one to the Candy Castle wins.
You don’t even need to know how to read because everything is color-coded and illustrated so the littlest ones can play, too. And by the way, they always go first.
Easy.
At every turn, you’re moving forward…So fast and furious you can taste the sweetness of victory. Until you land on licorice.
The result – losing a turn – is nearly as twisted as the candy and the look in Lord Licorice’s eyes.
These past few days I’ve felt stuck on licorice.
My grandmother fell and dislocated her finger; making it her second visit to the hospital in a week.
Sadly, her visits to the emergency room seem more and more frequent. One day she couldn’t talk. (She had a mini stroke.) Another she couldn’t walk. (Doctors didn’t know why.)
Each time she’s admitted, the inactivity and lack of familiar surroundings hurl her backwards. Thus, she leaves a little less herself.
Getting in and out of the car. Climbing the stairs. Taking off her coat.
Alzheimer’s has turned her ability to do simple things into a frustrating battle of hide and seek: Every day, something my grandmother used to do gets lost in her memory fog. And every day, my mother invents creative ways to find the rogue bit and flush it out again.
The process isn’t as fun as when the kids play the traditional game because even if my mom is successful, ultimately she will never win. There is no cure for Alzheimer’s and doctors told my mother to prepare for Mimi to get worse.
I don’t want to imagine beyond this wretchedness if it means considering the continued toll all of this is taking on my mother, who is my grandmother’s primary caretaker. Mom does so along with having a demanding full-time job and little hands-on help.
Putting Mimi in a nursing home is not an option my mom is ready for and I understand that. Who wants to make that choice for a parent? I wouldn’t.
But as a wise woman told me: At some point, you have to stop trying so hard and accept that you can’t do it all. Not all the time. And not at the price of your health.
My mom said that, and because I love her, too, I told her the same.
It’s good to hold on, but it can also be right letting go.
I finally got my chance at a recent Kite Festival.
