We made sun prints of the winter constellations. Tomorrow, if our #1 star is out, we'll make some more for spring and summer.
In other news: If you haven't read Sweet Juniper's Don't Blame the Dwarf! yet, you must go & do that right now. (Do that *now*, unless you are my children. My kids would read it, then promptly tie their belongings up in a kerchief, ready their hitching thumbs, and make a sign that said "DETROIT." They'd spell it right, too. Anyway, Naked Joe doesn't even do a drunken jig near the greatness of the pro-Nain Rouge counter protest. And the fliers? Mon Dieu. Merveilleux.) There is so much genius in that post that I'm left without adjectives to describe its absolute perfection. Also, I have a little lutin envy, I think. There are no harbingers of doom in Raleigh, except perhaps our crappy hockey team. Maybe I'm just missing my home...it's a cryptozoologist's dream. (Seriously, even apart from the fact that we were downriver from the Mothman. Just sit outside the Wal-Mart in Raccoon Lick, KY, and see if you can identify whatever's Rascal-ing across the parking lot.)
(That reminds me of one of our last trips back to visit family. We were somewhere between the Tennessee border and Lexington. A road sign beside an exit read "Museum of Appalachia," and it was pointing up the hill towards a Super Wal-Mart. Since I was too busy giggling to take a picture, you'll just have to take my word.)
So. You shouldn't still be here. You should be reading about evil red dwarves. Meanwhile, I have to pay attention to my kids. Allie just asked what would happen if a Victorian lady would go outside without a hat, and I told her people would throw rocks at her. And she would have to wear a hat made from those rocks.
Must undo that now.
(Clarification: Today's theme at our house has been Life Was Unfathomably Difficult in Victorian Times. It began with Craigslisting a Playmobil Victorian house, middled with my husband suggesting we add this guy to the Playmobil family, and ended with tales of unreasonable stoning, chimney sweeps with brooms for hands, and ridiculous reasons for the pull in the bathroom. Now you know.)
(Recommendation, kind of related to this post: Buy Beasts! and Beasts! Book 2. A multitude of great artists and their interpretation of mythical critters, nicely put together. I love these books a lot.)