The Spawn Category
LucyBeck’s song
By: webb on: Apr 16,2008 In: The SpawnSome people go to the dentist With broken teeth. But I don’t have broken teeth; I’m just at the beach. At the edge of the water.
Conversations
By: webb on: Nov 15,2007 In: The SpawnI open the bathroom door. Lucy is sitting on the toilet, her feet on her stool and the latest issue of the Economist on her lap. I am not making this up. Lucy (scowling): Mommy? I can’t find the picture of the pumpkin. She flips through the magazine pages. Lucy: Mommy? I need privacy. Please [...]
Looking out at the water Originally uploaded by gorickjones.
I’m telling ya. She’s going to brown! Originally uploaded by gorickjones.
So, LucyBeck has a little friend. And let’s say that her friend is named “Cathy” — her friend isn’t named “Cathy” but work with me. Anyway, LucyBeck has a little friend name Cathy and she sees Cathy about 3 times a week. Last night, while she was sleeping, LucyBeck moved herself into a corner. On [...]
Wedged in Originally uploaded by gorickjones. LucyBeck enjoys her time spent in the back of a dump truck.
LucyBeck at the park Originally uploaded by gorickjones. See had loads of fun.
LucyBeck likes peek-a-boo. We cover our eyes with our hands, pull them away and say “Boo!” You know, the traditional stuff. She likes to play, too. So, she puts her hands over her ears, pulls them away and says “Bbbb.” And then claps.
Lucy is 1! Originally uploaded by gorickjones. You can see all the pictures in the fabulous set: Lucy is 1.
She can fly! Originally uploaded by gorickjones. Her cake eating, present opening, turning one experience was good one. For her and us!
Why?
"He stopped commenting on this oddness of hers. She said the news clippings she sent to friends were a perfectly reasonable way to correspond. There were a thousand things to clip and they all said something about the way she felt. He watched her read and cut. She wore half-glasses and worked the scissors grimly. She believed these were personal forms of expression. She believed no message she could send a friend was more intimate and telling than a story in the paper about a violent act, a crazed man, a bombed Negro home, a Buddhist monk who sets himself on fire. Because these are the things that tell us how we live." -Don Dellilo, Libra
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