I spent the weekend at Sigrid and Jim's house.  Chloe turned seven on Saturday!  She had her party at the Pinz Bowling Alley where Trevor had his.

One minor problem.  Chloe and Sigrid went to pick up the birthday cake at Ralph's grocery store.  At the checkstand the bottom came apart and....plop went the cake.  Everyone in line was staring.  Within minutes, the store provided another cake, inscribed it with Happy Birthday, Chloe, complete with bowling pins and balls, and they were on their way.

Trevor and I were at home playing "box ball."  We found an old square box and started shooting the rubber ball into it.  Then we played Connect and solitaire together.  It's fun to tease him and get into a kind of punchy laughter.  Only with a child! 

FISH LORE

(from Fish Behavior in the Aquarium and in the Wild, by Stephan Reebs, Cornell University Press 2001) p. 197

"Late one day, Lorenz (fish researcher and one of the founders of ethology) came to feed a pair of parental jewel chichlids he was keeping in his laboratory.  That pair had just about finished retreiving their young for the night--like many cichlids, jewels at dusk gather their free-swimming young a few at a time into their mouth and spit them into a pit so that they can watch over them at night.

The female was holding station over the pit full of fry, while the male was dashing back and forth, looking for stragglers.  Lorenz dropped a piece of earthworm into the water.  The female did not flinch from her guarding post, but the male rushed to the worm, seized it, and started chewing.  Then he saw a stray fry swimming by itself away from the pit.  Bent on retrieving it, he took it in his already full mouth--and then paused.  What to do?  To eat or not to eat? To retrieve or not to retrieve? Part of the mouth content had to go to the nest, the other to the stomach.

After a few moments, the father found a solution: he spat out both the worm piece and the young.  Both sank to the bottom--sinking is a reflex in young cichlid fry being retrieved, and as for the meat, well, that was only gravity.  Then the father ate the worm, taking his time and watching the nearby fry.  When he was done, he took the fry in his mouth once again and brought it back to its waiting mother. 

Nearby students watching the scene spontaneouslybroke into applause.  The decision by the fish almost made him look wise. 

We bought another "feeder" fish from Petco and installed her in a 2-gallon glass vase in the family room.  She, Goldie, sits next to the TV.  She seemed to be interested in "Cruises We Love" on the Travel Channel.

Robert has her well set up with some Anacharis plant, dwarf parrot feather, gravel, and a little grotto for resting and hiding. She glows gold in sunny spots.

Last night about dusk, I was standing on my patio surveying my plants.  The hummingbird zoomed right up to within three feet of me, and buzzed around while I stared.  I greeted her and she zig-zagged off to perch on a high, orange huckleberry flower, almost lost against the deep blue sky.

The boys came over at 3 pm, already imbued with the desire to "make a tazer."  "In 3-D," amended Auggie, just in case I thought I would get off just making a drawing. I made a luger-type gun before for Anders--we called it the Anders Repeater, and it even had a place for a magazine in the handle (where do I get these skills??)  I have to cut the weapons out of cardboard (four sides--two for each one) and it's pretty hard on the hands.  Sigh.

We wrap them up in Gorilla tape and it makes a nice sturdy, shiny weapon.  I know. I know.  Why do I have to encourage these boys in this deadly pursuit? 

Since Anders has been complaining of being bored, I thought up the idea of making a Bored Box.  I had him think up activities and write them on index cards, folded over.  Then when he's bored, he can pull one out and perform the activity.  We wrote down, Read a Book, Build Something with Nails, Make a Skeleton.  Jump off the third stair five times.  Write a 3-page book.  He got excited about the idea and was concerned that he might get bored at his house and not have the box at hand.  I said he could call me.  I'd pull a card for him. 

If only  Chloe were not such a tomboy, I might be able to make dolls instead of guns.  Actually, I'd like to try  my hand at making some rustic, potent, bead be-decked African-like dolls--like the ones I saw at the de Young Museum last Sunday.  Something dark, worn, powerful and mysterious.  Just for myself. 

Yesterday was National Night Out, to encourage block parties.  Gunther put the word out to five or six neighbor families to come to my driveway after work for "street tacos."  He chose my driveway because it's flat, and now we have three swings to occupy the kids.  He set up his BBQ, a table, some chairs.  Everyone showed up with meat to grill, fantastic hot chili rellenos, wine, guacamole, and chips.  

I enjoyed holding Anya and Mateo's 2-month old Sadie, bundled up like a little loaf.

We talked about Glenn and Sunook's new roof, traveling to Oaxaca where Mateo saw people carrying turkeys on their heads, and chicken ordnances.  Sam has written a proposal to the City of El Cerrito to make it legal to raise a few chickens in the backyards.  He found a really great source where a man put together chicken ordnances, raising all the concerns about  raising livestock in the city limits. 

We were blessed with an unusually warm, non-windy, non-foggy beautiful evening.  Everyone drifted home as darkness set in.