Tornado warning here until 3! Grey skies, whipping winds, heavy rain.. oh nap time, wherefore art thou?

{update – the warning has passed.}
Pompano Beach, FL (33062) as reported at Pompano Beach, FL. Last updated Thursday, September 27, at 1:46 PM Eastern Daylight Time

Light Rain 81 °F Feels Like: 89 °F

UV Index: 6 Moderate
Wind: From the East at 8 mph
Dew Point: 79 °F
Humidity: 94 %
Visibility: 2.00 miles
Barometer: 29.92 inches and falling

There is such a thing as bittersweet, not just bitter and not just sweet.

Had an interesting difference of opinion. first, a breakdown for those folks that have never read the story.

The Velveteen Rabbit

One Christmas day a young boy was given a brown and white spotted velveteen rabbit with pink sateen ears. The rabbit was forgotten for awhile, but when the boy rediscovered him, the rabbit and boy became inseparable. Fancier toys teased the Velveteen Rabbit because he was only made of velveteen and stuffed with old sawdust. However, his friend, the wise Skin Horse, told him about Nursery Magic that would make him real if he was loved by a child and gave love in return.
As time went on the Velveteen Rabbit’s beautiful fur became shabby, his tail began to come apart and all the pink came off his nose where the boy kissed him. One day the boy told his Nana that the rabbit was real. The rabbit was so happy to be real that he never noticed his appearance and his eyes shown with a look of wisdom and beauty. He told some wild rabbits that he was real, but they teased him and made him sad.

Then the boy became ill and the rabbit stayed by his side. When the boy was well, the doctor ordered that all the toys be burned because of germs. The rabbit was sad and a tear trickled down his nose to the ground. Where the tear fell, a flower grew. The blossom opened and out stepped the lovely Fairy of Nursery Magic, who takes all the old, loved and worn out playthings that children no longer need and makes them real. The rabbit had only been real to the boy. The fairy took him in her arms and flew him to a place in the woods where there were other rabbits. She kissed him and told him to run and play. The Velveteen Rabbit became a real, live rabbit.

Ok… that’s the gist of the tale, less many the beautiful words and images that it contains. I reccomend it as part of a childs bookshelf, and it has a special meaning to me.

Another LJer I was talking to elsewhere said “I can’t believe that we subject children to depressing stories like that.

I personally think it’s a wonderful tale about love and the growing that comes from being loved. (see the sonnet, previous, too.) There are some sad parts, like when the boy is separated from something he loves so much, but overall, it’s a marvellous tale, and memory from my childhood.

Somehow the person I was conversing with it about totally missed the point… I feel that children benefit more if shown in a soft way some of the way life works ahead of time, they adjust better than if they get fed the mostly pointless “Barney the dinosaur, no drama ever happens” school of storytelling. It’s a question of taste, and position, I guess. In any event, I’m not going to bother pointing my world view at him anymore as he’s too traumatized by the story to hear it.

His sort of thinking has been a mild irritant to me… his opinion in general doesn’t matter, but when it becomes that of the majority, and will affect how I ultimately raise a child… then I begin to be disturbed by it. I credit some of my common sense and ability to reason to being subjected to a good mix of reality as a kid, not just the “everything is rainbows and cherubs” idea that’s currently in vogue. You don’t have to tell the story of “How Little Billy lost his legs to an Axe Murderer” either.

A balance can be struck. Fairies can be about granting wishes, playing tricks or warning of a coming tragedy. Besides, a story without some conflict makes it look like the hero got off too easy.

Dream last night, fragment.

I was back, living at home, and my folks were together… I must’ve been about 14, I guess. It was late, and I was up for some reason, and I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye… I looked to investigate, and saw a tripwire made out to dental floss… I followed the string to a bomb… a ridiculously large blasting cap attached to a 2 or 3 lb bit of c4… crazy amounts of explosive…I think that’s enough to level a city block or something. My dad’s signature was on the clay…I looked up and saw him high-tailing it from the room. My mom was sleeping in the other room, unaware of the whole situation… I woke up my brother, and her… we left the house and it collapsed shortly thereafter.. weird booby traps were all over the neighborhood, pits filled with spikes and trees hiding spring-loaded scything blades…. I recall escaping into the jungle, but I don’t know where my mom and brother went… it didn’t occur to me to note them missing at the time.

Ended up at the beach, my beach, not the one by the old house.

That’s all I remember.

Pompano Beach lighthouse Click to see larger image, in a new window.Back from walkies, figured I’d show you one of the things I see when I go up the beach a bit.

The lighthouse is actually a much further away, but you can see it on the horizon from the pier that I walk up to…a really nifty sight at night or in the early morning, especially during a dark, thick rain…it’s been a long time since I’ve seen it lit up, maybe two or three years… I’m about due to visit it in the dark again sometime…Sometimes I think about taking my sweetheart there, and comparing it to the one closer to where she lives.

I’d recite a sonnet to her… (Pardon me for clipping Billy Shakespeare’s 41st)

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
Some in their wealth, some in their bodies’ force,
Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill,
Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;
And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:
But these particulars are not my measure;
All these I better in one general best.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments’ cost,
Of more delight than hawks or horses be;
And having thee, of all men’s pride I boast:
Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take
All this away and me most wretched make.

All, because I do love her so. A walk along the beach with her, holding hands, watching the sunrise. She’s in my heart and with me wherever I decide to wander…thoughts of her heart beating next to mine, as well as inside it, her lips pressing against my own, our souls together, happy, and joined as one.

Neoteric, resile

neoteric nee-uh-TER-ik, adjective:
Recent in origin; modern; new.

Neoteric derives from Greek neoterikos, from neoteros, “younger,” comparative of neos, “young, new.”

resile ri-ZYL verb intr.

1. To rebound or recoil.
2. To shrink, withdraw, or retreat.

[From obsolete French resilir, from Latin resilire (to spring back).]

(yes, a variant on the french word for retreat… )

Just got home.


Going to bed… got to talk with my sweetie, anyhow. 🙂

The Velveteen Rabbit

“…Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand…” (the Skin Horse)

nigh night. 🙂


(silly, noisy, but fun)