Astropops Etc.

So, can you believe the Astropop is no more? Bennett is considering having an outer space themed birthday party, and I thought Astropops would be awesome door prizes, but no---they have been discontinued. Even this picture is not the Astropop of my childhood, which, you may recall, was inverted and had some strange waxy stuff at the base. I guess the point at the top caused some injuries, and some people found the wax disturbing, but see, they changed excellence, and now the Astropop is gone. Ah, maybe someday Spangler candy will realize the error of getting rid of such a fine candy and bring it back. Until then, hang on to your memories.


Bennett is a preschool graduate. Here are some of my favorites of his preschool creations, along with the coveted diploma.






Bennett and Mary Taylor made this lovely garden. I was sorry not to have gotten a picture before Mary left. Anyway, many pears and pomegranates will not reach their potential, as they were sacrificed to the cause, but isn't it a lovely garden?

In other Bennett news, we buzzed him. Here he is sporting his new haircut and sitting next to one of his fine feats of architecture. (He insisted on making that face, by the way.)





Laraine and Dan taking a nap.










Jasper, Jasper. Sweet guy. He smiles if you look at him.








This is Dan with Laurie (my little sister) and her---dare I say it?---boyfriend, Dave, after the 50 mile run Saturday. Dan posted an account of this race on his running blog. (I warn you, there is frequent talk of bowel movements---but they're bound to come up in runs---what a horrible pun).


It's time for some poetry. (Forgive me. I used to teach English.) I was talking about Sylvia Plath with Therese (Dan's mom) this last weekend because Plath had been discussed at Therese's book club. Anyway, here is one of my favorite examples of Plath's poetry:

Sylvia Plath

Mirror

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see, I swallow immediately.
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike
I am not cruel, only truthful –
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me.
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
________________________________________
So, Ladies (and Men---women shouldn't be the only ones who have to worry about starting to look like "terrible fish"), does it ring true for you? Did Plath already feel that fish coming? She wrote this the year of her death. I believe she was only 30. But I guess beyond looks and age, it's about the mirror reflecting only the truth, and it seems Plath was not happy with what she perceived as her truth (can even a mirror really reflect truth, as what we see as truth is largely perception anyway?). I'm assuming Plath was unhappy mainly because of the whole sticking her head in the oven and turning on the gas thing. Anyway, I've decided I'm okay with aging and that I prefer it to the alternative. What pains me lately when I look in the mirror is that I'm still often beset with an unwelcome reminder of my youth---yes, zits. Oh well.

Moving from Plath to some lighter poetry, one of my favorite poems presenting another frustrating truth:

Richard Armour
Going to Extremes

Shake and shake
The catsup bottle.
None'll come—
And then a lot'll.
------------------------------------
It almost makes you hope restaurants will keep those annoying glass bottles around.

Todays Review: Dan posted his review of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (I haven't yet seen it, but I will review the title as the lamest of the four, although the whole "last crusade" thing is kinda defunct.)