Visiting neighbors

I finally went to visit my neighbor Mickey today...


Unlike Daddy, Mickey lets me drive...

One from the archives

To keep the support base happy while we experience technical difficulties.

Dear Maddie fans

You may be wondering about the blog. The new camera went back to the store because it had a dead pixel on its screen, so we are cameraless again.

Just as well, really -- this week's news is not very photogenic: I'm learning to use the potty!

Male role models

It's important for a girl to have male role models to look up to. (Mama could probably cite you the literature on that topic.) Yesterday daddy carried me up the mountain behind our house...



Then we came home and I practiced being daddy...




...after which I practiced being Gandalf:

Camera

I had a run-in with the papa-razzi this week and ended up dropping our camera on its lens. So, uh, no new photos for a week or so while we wait for the new one to arrive...

Colorado

Now that our bitter cold snap here in La Crescenta has broken and temps are back in the mid-70s, I can think back with some fondness on our week in arctic Colorado.







This is the very dangerous Magic Carpet lift that injured daddy's knee:








It wasn't captured on video, but this was my reaction to my first time skiing:

"I want to go faster! Faster!!"

"Stop holding my hand! I want to do it myself!"

"I want to ride the big ski lift with the bar!"

Once I get potty-trained, look out mountain...

--Maddie

Four more years!

Just four more years until I can drive!
Just four more years until I can drive!

Sea World and Christmas Eve

The Pasadena area has been bitterly cold for the last couple of weeks--we're waking up to temperatures below 50! So we fled south to San Diego to hang out with Mom and Dad's old friends the Fergs and check out some marine life.

Here, I have to say, pictures probably tell the story better...

(I saw my first movie in a theater, and it was in 3D, for good measure!)

Finally, we went to a Christmas Eve service at church. This church is apparently a bit imagination-impaired -- they brought in real animals to help them picture the nativity scene! No seriously, we love La Crescenta Pres. But just as seriously, these Angelenos like a bit of showbiz, don't they?


Unlike the flamingos pictured above, that donkey is not actually trying to eat my hair.

--Maddie

How to fall asleep

The scene: Maddie is in bed whispering to her stuffed lamb.

Mom: What are you doing?

Maddie: Talking to lambie.

Mom: About what?

Maddie: Sleep. Pause. How do you sleep?

Mom: I close my eyes and think happy thoughts. What do you do?

Maddie: I close my eyes and think naughty thoughts.

Lastly, the Santa Monica Pier

I rode my first roller coaster!


Just kidding! I did drive some cars and fly an airplane, though.

Daddy, however, says I need to take driver's education. I say, "Whatever."

Second, apple-picking

We also drove a long way in the hot sun to find apples to pick. I had more fun in the raspberry bushes but, alas, I have nothing to show for that. I ate most before we got home. It was like, Blueberries for Sal.



I learned that Granny Smith apples are a bit tart.

First, belated Halloween picture

At first, I was shy about walking up to strangers and saying this bizarre greeting, "Trick-or-treat." But, by my third packet of M&Ms, I was taking candy for each hand.

It's Obama Time!

So far I have learned to say "He's my first president!" when I see his picture in the newspaper. In his honor, I have adapted one of the masterpieces of Western literature:


Eight years are up.
It's getting late.
W's passed his expiry date.
It's Obama Time!

Good for society's bottom!
Good for its top!
Get your yourselves set to Obama-de-bop--
It's Obama Time!

Some voters are old
and some are new.
Some states are red
and some are blue.
Some voters' logic is fuzzy.
Some is not.
But we can all be happy with the president we've got.
It's Obama Time!
Ooooo yes, it's Obama Time!

Some voters are Hispanic and some are Asian,
But everyone's horrified by Sarah Palin.
She might be crazy or she might not--
Thanks McCain for making Barack the only choice we've got!

Obama unites the left.
Obama charms the right.
'Bama 'bama 'bama 'bama Biden!
Everybody's dancing in the streets tonight.
'Bama 'bama 'bama 'bama Biden!

Now everyone to Grant Park in one big crowd,
crying and marveling and yelling real loud.
It's Obama Time!

Yes we can, yes we can shine a light--
Do not go gentle into that good night.
It's Obama Time!
(LOUDER, LOUDER)
It's Obama Time!
(LOUDER, LOUDER)
IT'S OBAMA TIME!


Please feel free to share with your friends who are toddlers, or who have them. They are the only ones who are likely to get it.

Congratulations, President Obama!

One nice thing about living in California is that important things happen at more kid-friendly hours.


I was so happy I was doing flips.

Building a mommy

Sometimes she just doesn't come around fast enough when I need her so I have to make do.

The artist formerly known as Madster

I am always venturing into unknown territory. This time, I thought I'd try some abstract expressionism. Here is my new technique. What do you think?



I'm also, of course, working on realism. That's a picture of my grumpy mom who doesn't understand that naps and going to bed early are not part of an artist's life. Am I wrong?

You Win(d) Some, You Lose Some

We definitely lost this week, and I'm not talking about the value of my 529 account either. Though, at this rate, I'll be lucky to afford state schools when I am college-aged. But, back to my point, the Santa Ana winds hit early this week. I lost the patio umbrella that gave me shade whenever we ate outside in our beautiful garden. Mom lost new plants she just put into the ground, including some of our fall and winter vegetables. Dad lost his new pool floats. Apparently, the desert heats up and sends gales up to 75 mph through the valleys to the ocean, regularly. I thought we weren't in California anymore after a night of terrifying winds.




But, we still counted our blessings. One of mom's new mommy friends lost her home in a wildfire fueled by the winds, and another was evacuated at 2 am. Mom says she is going to pack a suitcase and leave it in the car when the Santa Anas return. I hope she remembers my blankies.

I had a playdate with my new friend Soo-ji today. A snippet of conversation from dinner:

Daddy: Do Soo-ji's parents speak Korean to her at home?

Mommy: I don't know. Yono claims she doesn't speak Korean. She understands it, but she doesn't speak it.

Me: I speak Korean.

Mommy and Daddy: (laughter)

Me: I speak Gram. Can we see Gram? [Note: Gram is pronounced "garee-am" in Maddie-ese and therefore sounds kind of like "Korean."]

Daddy: Not "Gram" -- "Korean"!

Me: Gram is in Korea?

We're the Mesopo-TAY-MEEE-ANS!

Dear Readers,

I'm going to turn this one over to dad, because I never know what he's talking about when he talks about work:

One of the interesting things about Los Angeles is that it appears to have a bit of an ancient Near East fetish. Not so much the universities, as you might expect (although there's a lot going on there, too) -- no, I mean the broader culture.

People will tell you that Glendale is the most Armenian place in America, and let me tell you -- those Armenians like them some ancient Near Eastern nostalgia. Mostly that plays out in names of restaurants and such, but straight down the hill from our house on the main road is this:



The first time I saw that (after I drove off the road), I took it as a clear Yahwistic omen that we were to buy this house. I mean, given, someone really didn't do their art history homework on this one -- I believe the technical term for this style is not "Urartian" but "Neo-Assyrianish" -- still, points for enthusiasm.

If it was an omen, there may be another house somewhere around Commerce, CA, that would have been equally divinely approved for us (although it would have been a long commute), because of this:







According to this Web site (and who would doubt the information of someone who reviews outlet malls for fun?): "The exterior of the Citadel Mall was created to look like the Babylonian palace of King Sargon II! The unusual Babylonian/Assyrian archetectural [sic] style was dreamed up by the owner of a tire-production company (first owner of this complex), and was built back in 1929. During its long history, this building was also used in the filming of the epic Hollywood movie, Ben Hur!"

The construction date makes it a late reflex of the popular fascination with Mesopotamia that started around the turn of the 20th century -- before the great Depression and the Second World War made such things look decadent (again), I suppose. Why is it that, to my knowledge, our very recently deceased Gilded Age didn't give rise to such ambitious Babylonisms? (I mean, Urartu Restaurant... that's just not a contender. Neither is this.)

So in sum, even on the far side of the world from the Holy Land, I am surrounded by reminders of my research. There is something right about the fact that they preside over outlet malls and banquet facilities.

I suppose if I were more of the Falwell stripe, I might take these as symbols that I have come to "Los Angeles Babylon," a cauldron of unholy loves singing about my ears. Instead, when I drive on the freeways of the Golden State, I simply enjoy hearing echoes of a very old culture in this young city.

...

Dear Readers,

Maddie here again. See what I mean? Gibberish. Back to me next time.

--Maddie

Dear Wall Street

Dear Wall Street,

I sent you a gift of $2000 today, and I am just writing to say that I hope you enjoy it. I hope that after all your six-figure bonuses, this little gift from me helps you to not feel the pinch of the economy too much, while small businesses are failing, and parents are dropping off their children at police stations because they can no longer take care of them.

And dear Congress, enjoy your back-slapping. Way to take a stand. It's amazing how much better that cow patty tasted when it was covered in pork, eh?

Of course, I didn't really send $2000...

...it could be more. Who knows how much this will end up costing me and the other two-year-olds of America?

Dad says this is what you get when you send anti-intellectual robber barons to the White House. I don't know anything about that; I just hope you and your rich friends feel better now, Mr. Paulson, because I'm a sweet little 2-year-old girl, and I like for everyone to be happy.

--Maddie