Elmo addictions, and the babies that fight them... Next on Oprah

So, my little Widget has her first television based addiction, and his name is Elmo. It's awfully cute. It started with the 123 Sesame book, where she would kiss Elmo on every page. Then, it moved into a strong love bond with the singing Elmo she got for her birthday, which she literally wore out, she played it so often. Now we're to the point where she actually sings his little song in nonsense syllables, and if you say the name Elmo, she runs for the remote control and tried to find him on the teevee, and sits in front of the television slack-jawed when he's on screen.

Now, of all the children's television characters for her to love, Elmo's pretty high on my list - I, unlike many adults, have always loved the little guy. But for her to love Elmo this much is almost disconcerting. I'm not entirely comfortable with her liking television this much in general. Wiley wants to get her some Elmo tapes so she can watch it whenever, I'm holding back, feeling like perhaps Elmo-on-demand isn't the best thing for her to desire; that the limits imparted by broadcast hour might be a good way for her to learn that there need to be limits (good luck teaching that to an 18 month old). Partly too, I think I'm afraid I won't be able to resist the siren call of television-as-babysitter, and will fall into the habit of popping in a tape when I need her out of my hair, simply because it'll be so easy and convenient. I'm sure we'll end up getting some soon enough; I'll just need to be strong.

And it could be worse - one of Wiley's co-workers showed her Barney the other day, and she was equally transfixed. Ou house will continue to be a Barney free zone. If she doesn't learn the name, she can't ask for it, right? About the worst thing that Elmo visits upon us is how badly his song gets stuck in my head - now that she can sing the song, it never leaves.

More Tuna tales

When we inherited our cat Tuna, she had been an outdoor cat for most of her life. Of all our fur-beasties, she's always been the one who wanted out the most. Until now, we've always lived in *very* not cat-safe neighborhoods. Now, with the exception of one cat-eating dog, and rumors of coyotes in the woods near our house, we live in a fairly cat-safe place (quiet street, lots of yards, etc.). I've been feeling guilty lately about keeping them inside in the name of keeping them safe.

Tuna managed to get past me this morning, when she darted past my legs while I was putting mail on the mailbox to go out. When she went, she stopped about 2 feet away and sniffed at the grass. She let me follow her around as she explored the yard, and didn't run when I picked her up to bring her inside (although she did yowl and try to get away when she realized where she was going. I felt so bad bringing her inside.

I know I joke about wanting to get rid of her (and yes, she is my least favorite of all three kitties), but I really wanted her to bolt away from me when she got out. Not so that we would get rid of her, but so that she could go off and have a little kitty adventure. I feel like I'm keeping her inside to assuage my own conscience about being a "good" cat-mom, when I'm really wondering if the trade-off between a longer life and a happier one is worth it. I think I know how she'd answer the question if she could, but then I tell myself that she's only a cat, and doesn't have any sense.

And yes, I realize that if we let Tuna out, we'd have to let the other kitties out, and yes, I'm even coming towards being willing to let Gabby roam too.

Warm happy feelings

Our friends Emily and Bill were married last year. She is another one of Wiley's old friends (his first girlfriend, in fact) and over the time I've known him, she and her family have become dear to me as well. (Yes, this is a recurring trend in my life with Wiley. He has wonderful friends, and they've all aken me in warmly). Because they are special tous, I also stitched a wedding piece for them; I had posted pictures of it here when it was finished.

Wiley delivered it to them a few weekends ago, when I was away on my stitching weekend; although I was sad to not be able to give it to them i person, I was very glad to not have to trust it to the vargaries of FedEx or the Post Office, since although it could be insured, I did not want to have to remake it if it were damaged. I got an incredibly gracious "official" thank you note from them a few days later, and it made me smile. Then, this weekend, I got a second thank you note via e-mail. ( It read: )

I'm not sure I can express how happy her note made me. It's one thing to get a nice "official" note, which etiquette requires be sent. It's entirely another to get a second follow-up thank you, and one that is this complimentary is enough to make me just blush bright red, even as I grin from ear to ear over it. This is so especially true when the gift is somethign handmade. Lurk on any board where crafters chatter, and you will inevitably hear horror stories of hand crafted gifts that were never displayed, treated badly and destroyed, sold for $5 at a tag sale; in other words, never had the effort, time and care expended on them recognized. I'm careful with who I stitch gifts for, and I almost always ask before making something for someone to be sure they will like it before I set needle to fabric, but I still give the gifts with a small amount of trepidation that they will not be valued. I can't say how pleased I am that this was so well received, and that they love it so much. It means so much to me to be able to make beautiful things for the people I love, and so much to have my time and effort mean so much to them in return.