Dear Kid,

Many, many years ago we had a mulberry tree in our backyard (now we have a mulberry tree stump, but I’ll get to that).

The mulberry tree had branches that reached from the back of the yard practically to the house. Dad wanted to cut the branches, but I convinced him not to. During the mid to late summer, the squirrels used those branches as their personal grocery store. They would come waaaay out on the branches and reach for the farthest, hardest to reach, presumably yummiest berries. It was jungle gym and produce section in one.

It was serious fun to watch.

Then we had to cut the tree down because it was dying and unsafe.

The squirrels adapted by trying to do triple gainers from other trees to reach the birdfeeder.

This pleased no one except the squirrels.

As I’m writing this, the squirrels are frolicking in the yard. Seriously, frolicking, as they try to figure out how to get their next meal.

We now have tree whose branches have grown far enough out that I can watch the little dudes up close from my chair on the porch.

They spend a lot of time under the birdfeeder encouraging their avian friends to throw down a respectable tithe.

And they are plotting.

It’s obvious as they pause on a tree trunk or branch that they are engaging in Highly Advanced Physics calculations trying to determine if they can Make The Leap from their location to the birdfeeder.

So far the answer is no, which pleases the squirrels not at all but the humans and birds are happy.

As for the stump, it still sits in the yard. And the squirrels haven’t forgotten it. yesterday, one of them paused on the stump, leaning over the edge, to watch other squirrels play/fight/frolic. Stump as lounge chair.

Très cute.

Hope you have some time to frolic today.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Have you heard of eyelash perms? Clearly, I’m behind the times, because I hadn’t heard of this trendy beauty treatment until recently.

The idea is straightforward—like your eyelashes before the treatment. Well, not your eyelashes. You have gorgeous lashes. Sigh.

But not all of us have beautiful, thick, upturned lashes.

Back in the day, those of us that wanted curly hair but weren’t blessed with cooperative locks got our hair permed. The process went something like this.

Sit in the salon chair for about 73 hours while someone painstakingly rolled tiny bits of your hair in individual curlers. Squinch your eyes tightly closed while the stylist soaks your head with perm solution. Mop the drippy part out of your eyes, off your forehead, and off the very back of your neck where it wanted to trickle the most. Wait. Pretend your scalp doesn’t itch or burn. Repeat while the neutralizer was applied. Wash, cut, dry, have curly hair.

Then go through the whole thing again when the curls grow out. Because if you think growing out bangs is hard, it is nothing compared to growing out a perm.

So it was a long, uncomfortable process with results that were (in hindsight) something of a fashion mistake. Faux curly hair was not necessarily a good choice.

On the other hand, there is no question that gently curled eyelashes are a good choice. They make your eyes look bigger and more alert. This is why we spend countless minutes every day curling our lashes and slathering on mascara.

At least some of us do.

So the idea of permanently curled lashes seemed worth investigating.

Until I figured out that what was uncomfortable on my head would be ridiculous on my eyeballs. Can you imagine someone rolling your lashes on tiny little rollers and then pouring ouch-y stuff on your eyes?

And here’s the kicker—the chemicals can cause your lashes to break—entire effort, defeated.

And here’s the double kicker—even if it works perfectly, your lashes will grow out, fall out, and in just a few months you’ll be back to straight eyelashes.

All in all, I’m sticking to an old fashioned curler and a boatload of mascara.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Dad is at it again.

Or perhaps I should say the squirrels are at it again.

Either way, someone is at it, and “it” involves birdseed and removing tree limbs.

Dad was convinced that the squirrels couldn’t reach the birdfeeder, or that the one clever squirrel had reached the end of his time here on planet earth and was stalking birdfeeders in squirrel heaven.

And so he (Dad) happily went about his business.

Until I refilled the birdfeeders and Dad happened to look outside.

(Insert stabbing music from Psycho.)

What followed next was something out of a scene from Caddy Shack. A scene that hit the cutting room floor, but a scene nonetheless.

Dad raced out of the house, shouting at the squirrel to mind his (the squirrel’s) own species, and inviting plagues of curses upon the house of said rodent. The threat of his lineage being cursed didn’t seem to upset the squirrel in the least. The threat of a crazy man descending upon him waving a cell phone made him reconsider hanging out on the birdfeeder.

Once the birdfeeder was squirrel-free (temporarily), Dad went about assessing the situation to make it squirrel-free (permanently).

Saws, loppers, dynamite, drones, schematics, ladders, a laser pointer, and eye of newt were all involved.

In short, one of the nearby trees had its bangs trimmed. And the squirrels seem unable (or unwilling) to leap from the branches to the birdfeeders.

But the hand shears are still on the porch so that Dad can race out and prune away if the need should arise.

Perhaps this should be an Olympic sport.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Have you ever found yourself in the mood to argue?

Sometimes we don’t even notice that we’re in the mood to argue until we find ourselves defending something we don’t care about at all.

“I don’t care what you say, I’m not going to watch TV! I’m going to bed!”

Um. Okay?

“No, it’s NOT okay and you CAN’T MAKE ME!”

Riiiight.

It’s hard to say why we get into moods like that. Maybe we’re tired, maybe we’re hungry, maybe we’re frustrated with something and our frustration is leaking out in different areas, maybe the stars are in the wrong alignment.

When we argue about things because we’re in an arguing mood, we generally need a break to recover, figure out what’s really going on, take a deep breath, or sleep/eat/run/read/whatever to rebalance ourselves. Or just to wait for the stars to realign.

Sometimes we argue because we Need To Be Right.

That can important because in some cases there are things that are wrong (2+2=7). Other times, being “right” is a matter of interpretation or opinion (creamy peanut butter is right and chunky pb is just wrong). In those cases, it’s wise to think about how important “winning” is.

There’s a saying (that might be from the Marines according to My Friend the Internet): Choose the hill you’re willing to die on.

Meaning: Not everything is important enough to fight for. Or even to argue over.

Choose your fights. Live to fight (or possibly persuade) another day.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Today is Draw a Bird Day.

I don’t know why, but it is.

Rodney the Bird Outside Our Window offered to pose for a picture, but between my (lack of) artistic talent and his demoralized attitude, I decided it might not be a good experience for him.

The most famous of all bird-drawers is probably John James Audubon (shown in a photo on Wikipedia holding a rifle which is probably not how most people think of him). JJ went out into Nature to identify and paint birds so that he could have a society named after him.

My second favorite bird drawer is probably Charley Harper (first favorite is you when you were about 4 and drew me a picture that had a bird in it). Charley Harper went into Nature wearing a pair of 5D glasses and drew what he saw. He lived in Cincinnati which is another thing that’s good about Our City.

Still up there in the Excellent Bird Drawing category is the little guy from Are You My Mother?

And all the birds Dr. Seuss drew (none of which were ever spotted by John James A.).

Despite my best efforts to learn absolutely nothing about birds (what can I say? I was a rebellious twit), I love watching avian life in our backyard. I filled the birdfeeders over the weekend and the cardinal (significantly more dimensional than Charley’s version), the woodpeckers, flickers, chickadees, and other flying folk are having a marvelous time filling up at the buffet. The chipmunk family (did I tell you a family of chipmunks has moved in?) and squirrels are happily picking up whatever falls uneaten, and the rabbit is barreling through like he owns the place, checking on tables but not eating anything himself.

Spring is here.

Happy Draw a Bird Day.

Love, Mom