A Salute to the Grandmas

I wrote about my grandmother several months ago. The "Opal" in Rye Opal comes from her, and she will always have a place in our hearts. I know that goes without saying, but it's worth saying out loud every now and then. Grandmas have and always will be inextricably linked to the children of their children. And for good reason. They have a knack for being there at just the right time with just the right amount of grandmotherly love.

Rye loves her grandmas.

The intersection of music snobbery and parenting

I've always considered myself a bit of a music snob. The reality is that everything is relative. I have lots of friends with whom I can't have conversations about music, as they haven't heard of 75 percent of the bands I'm "into" at any given time. On the other end of the snobbery continuum, I have quite a few friends who might describe my taste as pedestrian. But I like it this way. I can feel superior to some while being mentored by others. If music snobbery were the food chain, I'd be a frog...or maybe an owl. My friend Bob would be a lion with a bow and arrow.

My daughter is predestined to music snobbery of some sort. Or, perhaps I should say that I am bound and determined to make Rye a discerning consumer. Here's hoping it's that and not the obvious alternative (you know, resenting that she ever heard music in the first place by the time she's fourteen).

I think we're on the right track. She started clapping when she heard the opening notes of a Centro-matic record I played for us today.

Here's the Little Girl inspecting the record collection.

The Obligatory "Food on the Face" Pics

YES!!! Rutabaga, Peas and Rice-mush!!!!!

 

And now some less triumphant ones:

Build it Up and Tear it Down

Will Rye blaze a path as an international demolition expert? Or, is this a subtle indication that she will become a minimalist painter, or a an architecture critic? Hard to say. Either way, its fun to try to get a tower built before she sees it.

Jazz at the Park

Every Sunday, the City of Denver hosts an afternoon of Jazz at City Park. Rhoda and I have been meeting a small group of the same friends there for several years now. We all pack picnics, lay out blankets, and spend the afternoon doing very little. This year, we've introduced Rye to this wonderful way of saying hello to another week (or goodbye to a weekend, depending on your perspective...you know, the whole "glass half empty or half full" deal). She's really taken to it. Honestly, what's not to take to? The weather has been almost without exception beautiful, the crowds have been friendly and lively, and the music has been entertaining. I've heard there may be some difficulty with funding. I hope City Park Jazz is around long enough for Rye to call it a fond memory.

This most recent Sunday (July 31), Rhoda's friend Jocelyn joined us. She was in town from Brooklyn to visit her parents.

Upwardly Mobile

Rye is mobile. Seriously mobile. That last video I posted was child's play (pun, unfortunately, intended). The house is (mostly) child-proof. And I'm exhausted...more than usual.

I am able to seriously envision a scenario in which this kid can crawl faster than I can run. It doesn't seem all that far-fetched as I sit here on the couch and type these words in the stillness of the post-bedtime evening.

She's so mobile that I can't get any good video. So here's a series of pictures (shot from the floor, while I was resting...er, um, getting a better perspective) that is not completely on topic. In this sequence, Rye foreshadows her plan to start walking before I've even figured out how to supervise her crawling.

This needs no introduction

I'm slowly morphing into one of those "it seems like yesterday..." people. Not that its a bad thing. It applies. As Rhoda and I were looking at pictures of Rye from her first few days with us last night after watching the Little Girl crawl across the room to get to a duck toy, I started thinking that yesterdays are great and all, but tomorrow could be really special.

Step One: Learn to Crawl

Step Two: Whatever You Want

Oh, and here's what she looked like "yesterday."