Mommy's in a Timeout

A New Tradition

2009-12-13T14:34:00.000-08:00

The other morning, we were rushing like crazy to get out the door to school & work. I was getting crabby, wondering why it's the same EVERY morning. Why it's the same EVERY holiday season? WHY do I feel so much STRESS???!!!! WHY?!!!

Then Joe-Henry started to sing this very silly version of Jingle Bells. I started to sing along. And suddenly the here and now came into focus. I was driving. He was in the backseat. The car was filled with noise and laughter.

And all was right with the world.

Thought I'd share our really silly version of Jingle Bells with you. If you're feeling a little grumpy, sing along. You'll be in the Holiday Spirit in no time!

Joy, Wonder, Delight.

2009-12-02T23:36:00.000-08:00

I was getting nervous for the Holiday Season this year, because I thought it might be the year that JH figures it out. I mean, we've already had our first conversation about sex (he asked, and I kept it brief and honest and then he asked if Daddy and I do that and if it's when he's asleep and I said "mind your own beeswax". ). So I figured that this year for sure he'd be asking about Santa.

I was right. And I didn't lie about it, I just said "well, what do you think?" He hemmed and hawed and went on about why do some of his presents have bar codes, etc. But tonight, we looked at this magical book together. Santa brought it to him last year, and he was so overwhelmed with everything else that it got overlooked. But tonight, oh my. We spent a good twenty minutes on the first two pages alone. He was telling me that Santa has a room of his own where he can go and have his own private feelings, even cry if he needs to. (Can you imagine Santa crying?!) I asked why he thought Santa might need to cry, and he said "well, if someone has to get put on the naughty list. He's a person like anyone else. Even though he never dies. But he still can get sad sometimes." Then he went on to tell me that Mrs. Claus was the best person on earth, even more than Santa because she has to make sure he's okay and she's really nice. "She'd have to be. Santa wouldn't have married a mean woman!"

He wants to go see Santa now. And I don't think he wants to ask for toys as much as check in and make sure Santa's okay and ask him questions about how the mail gets to the North Pole, and find out what makes him tick.

I love him so much. His innocence and wonder amaze me. And he makes me feel like an elf.

I'm Thankful for Moments Like These

2009-11-26T07:43:00.000-08:00

Joe-Henry: WHY can't I have a tv in my room?
Me: Because I want you to grow up smart. So you could be president, or an astronaut...
Joe-Henry: I just wanna grow up to be a guy who plays video games. (pause) And drives a bus.
Me: aim a little higher, please
Joe-Henry: Don't worry mom. I won't be a hillbilly in a tank top.

Who needs Hallmark, when I've got this kid?

Feeling thankful for conversation and communication. I think I'll make a turkey to celebrate!

not enough to go around

2009-11-18T17:04:00.000-08:00

I love my job. I do. There is nothing more satisfying than seeing a child "get it". Or make unbelievable eye contact. Or manage to contain their behavior to do just one more thing.

And I know I'm going out on a limb here when I write about my job in a public forum. I don't write about it often. But I'm finding myself keeping a lid on things so much that sometimes I feel like this:

And I have a feeling that this is what the kids I work with feel like a good deal of the time. I know it's what they've been feeling lately, because it feels like we spend a good part of our day just putting out fires.

There is a simple reason for this: we do not have enough people to deal with the students in our room. Most of our kids qualify for a one on one staff. But very few have them. Budget cuts, don't you know.

Add to this the absentee rate in the room, and dealing with one new sub after another, and it's gotten to the point where a good day is just a day that isn't horrible. Or a day where someone doesn't get hurt.

Don't get me wrong: the staff we have? ROCKSTARS. But there just aren't enough of us. There just aren't.

And most of today I felt completely on edge and helpless. Like when I saw one (LARGE) student at one end of the playground and another (LARGE) student at the other, both doing something they shouldn't and I'm supposed to be dealing with both of them at the same time. My fear, my deep gut fear is that someone is going to get hurt. Someone that just might be in the way, or a student, or a staff member, or a volunteer. And then it's going to go sideways and I'm going to lose my job, or worse have to live with the fact that I was responsible for the rest of my life.

I Am A Mom

2009-11-15T18:39:00.000-08:00

There is an iconic picture of me that Charley took the night we went to the hospital to give birth to Joe-Henry. It's taken by him, and in the picture I'm in the bathroom, drying my hair, and getting ready to become a mom. We both looked high and low for it today, and couldn't find it anywhere. But in the midst of trying to find it, we found all kinds of old photos and were washed with a whole parenting lifetime of memories, as well as dim reminders of lives we had before Joe-Henry. I know. Unfathomable.

Why, you might ask, were we so determined to find this one particular photo? Because we took a very similar photo today.

I'm not pregnant, but it's a side view, in the bathroom, and I've got my hands in my hair. But for very different reasons. This time, there is no mistaking: I am DEFINITELY a mom.

For those of you perhaps unfamiliar with Star Wars toys, this is the Republic Gunship that flies by remote control. That we got him. For his birthday. That landed in my hair and had to be cut out.

The end.

Secret Agent Birthday Party

2009-11-14T16:42:00.000-08:00

Joe-Henry turns NINE tomorrow, and because we just had a huge trip, we decided to keep his birthday costs down by doing it at home. I was nervous about it because last year we went to the super cool bowling alley arcade, and he kept saying initially he thought it might be - what was the word he used? Oh yes - STUPID. But I planned and plotted and schemed and it turned out to be a truly memorable, hugely fun, and most important - COOL party. I had to come up with something that both boys and girls would like, and we had kids ranging in age from 4 to 6th grade, so I wanted everyone to feel good about being here.

We decided on a "Secret Agent" Theme. The invitations went out inviting friends to help with a secret mission. And instead of giving out goody bags at the end, we gave them at the beginning of the party because they had things they might need to complete the mission - black sunglasses, little magnifying glasses, notebooks and pencils, compasses and whistles and tiny flashlights. I just used plain brown lunch bags and found these cool little clipboard notes at The Dollar Tree. All the goody bag stuff I got at either Oriental Trading Company, Dollar Tree or Office Max.

The kids were given a password (NINE), and then taken into Joe-Henry's room where they could choose a disguise if they wanted one. They all loved dressing up in all kinds of stuff - a witches hat, a football shirt, an apron, etc. I had downloaded a bunch of "spy" music: Theme from James Bond, Get Smart, Mission Impossible, etc. which played throughout the party. Then I took them all into the living room, where they were told they were on a mission to help with a birthday mystery. We would be doing several "training exercises" before we could look for clues. The first exercise was to help their powers of deduction. They were all given a secret identity taped to their backs and had to figure out who they were by asking a partner questions.

Then we did a memory boosting training exercise. They took out their notebooks and pens, and looked at fifteen items on a tray for 30 seconds. They then had to write down as many as they could remember in two minutes or less.

The next exercise was "pin the sunglasses on the secret agent". I had drawn an outline of Joe-Henry on a big piece of paper and cut out black paper sunglasses. They all had to put on a blindfold and who ever got closest won. Later on they could write messages to Joe-Henry on the outline.

Then we went to the backyard to do a disguise relay. The kids were divided into two teams and each team was given a backpack with a disguise (a big t-shirt, a hat, gloves, glasses, and a lei), a nerf gun and darts. Each person had to put on the disguise, run to the line and shoot a dart at the targets, run back, repack the bag for the next person, who would do the same thing, the first team done wins.

Then my FABULOUS niece Heather, who had been helping the WHOLE TIME (and truly, the list for all the things I owe her for is so long I don't know how I'll ever pay her back) donned her black trench coat and sunglasses and delivered a secret message for Agent McQuary. It was the first clue in a scavenger hunt to find all the goodies for a birthday party. The last clue was next door at the neighbors, and it was my brother's cellphone number. They had to call and tell Bugsy to "deliver the package". He had parked across the street with two dozen Krispy Kreme donuts. We have the best family EVER.

After they were all jacked up on donuts, we played one last game called "Diffuse the bomb". Two people with one badminton racket each had to take a black balloon to the next two people who had to carry the balloon between them without using their hands or arms to the last person who was in charge of the diffusing box (a box with toothpicks sticking up inside it). When they closed the box the balloon popped. We went through lots of balloons and they got lots of that sugar out of their systems on that game!

They then had just under a half hour to just play, and it was so much fun to hear them laughing and screaming. It was even more fun to hear how quiet the house got when all the parents showed up to take them home! But it was such a blast and for some of the kids I think it was the first time they went to a party without their parents. Judging by the smiles and how disappointed they were when their parents came, I think it was a success.

After it was all over, we let JH open a present from his Aunt, because we knew it was a video game he desperately wanted. And then Charley and I took a big, drooooooly nap.

Happy Birthday, Joe-Henry. You're my favorite secret agent ever.

Rickie Lee Jones - Stewart's Coat

2009-11-07T11:46:00.001-08:00

I walked down the aisle to this song in April, 1994. Charley just found the cd and went on a Rickie Lee binge, brought it into the living room, where we danced with each other and Joe-Henry joined in. Such a rainy day, and our house filled with so much love.

Your First Wife

2009-11-06T04:31:00.000-08:00

I dreamt that I read your obituary
while sitting in my father's recliner
in the house I grew up in.

You were celebrated in bold face type,
you would be missed.
And they spoke of your first wife,
from whom you had been separated
"it was amicable" they said.

You had been living the life you were "supposed to live"
when you passed,
(but they gave our marriage the first long paragraph)
They quoted a statement you had made
regarding our marriage:
"It was good to be known"

I put down the paper and wept
having only just learned you were gone,
and that we were no longer married.
I buttoned my grey wool coat to the top
opened the rickety screen door of my father's house
to go sit under the Hawthorn tree

"It was good to be known"

Like a cup to catch my tears
it was oddly useful and practical
but not enough to hold my sorrow

Then your voice cut through the dream
like groggy thunder
muttering at the cat
"Bosco, stop"
I squirted him with the bottle
to keep him from scratching at the raindrops
sliding down the windowpane
and touched your sleeping shoulder.

It is good to be known.

from one day to the next, or a few questions

2009-10-23T14:22:00.000-07:00

do you suppose
that the falling leaves
fight the inevitable
as much as we do?

and should I feel
ashamed of how much
I appreciate their beauty
as they flutter to their end?

I wonder if anyone
will appreciate
"her delicate grace"
when I meet my demise?

Full Circle

2009-10-20T06:01:00.000-07:00

Last night I was "helping" Joe-Henry with his piano lessons. I put it in quotation marks because it's only my perspective. From his perspective, it's more like torture. I make him go back and try things again when he doesn't get the timing right. My note reading abilities are rusty (lucky for him), but DAMN I'm good with a beat.

We were about ten minutes in when we got to the part where he had to write a four measure song, so I was going to help him by getting the notes down in the book. I asked him a question about what the first note was, and this is what he did:

He turned very slowly to look at me, sighed, and said in a very patronizing tone"Mom that's not it, why don't you just let me do my work?"

Then he sadly shook his head. AND ROLLED HIS EYES.

Being the grown up that I am, I took it well. I raised my voice a couple octaves and curtly squeaked out "fine. I have lots of other things I can be doing. you can just finish this by yourself." Then I quickly walked off IN A HUFF and got the laundry.

He came to find me slamming wet clothes in the dryer and apologized for hurting my feelings, and I hugged him tight and said it was okay.

But somewhere my parents are nodding and smiling at the sweet feeling of payback.

I wonder if revenge is allowed in heaven?

How To Throw Your Back Out: An Instructional Manual

2009-10-17T08:09:00.000-07:00

So you heard (and saw) all about our trip - the highlights. There were many, many highlights. But you haven't yet heard the tale of How Charley Strained His Back and Started Mooing Like An Angry Angry Cow. There is also a lot of grunting and hissing.

It started in Edinburgh, our first day. We'd had a lovely time in Glasgow, spending an extra day there because it was so much fun. But Charley had been helping Joe-Henry with his backpack, because he's a great dad. He was carrying his own backpack, and taking the weight off of JH's so we could hike the several blocks to our hotel in Glasgow. Oh, and of course there's attempting to sleep on an airplane in seats with no leg room. Anyway, in the middle of the night our first night in Edinburgh, Charley had a back spasm. He didn't sleep well, but we didn't know it (how I'm not sure - we were all three sleeping in the same bed due to a lack of rooms at our hotel). He managed to get some ibuprofen in him, and we took a long tour (12 hours) of the Central Highlands that day and he did okay. It seemed to be getting better.

But then we had to travel home. And here is where it got nasty. Our flight out of London was an hour late, and we had an hour and a half layover in Philly. So basically we had an eight hour flight, where limited leg room was even more limited by the people in front of us who put their seats back the entire way for the whole flight. I hated them by the end of the flight. I would rattle their seats a lot when I had to get up to go to the bathroom.

We landed in Philly, and we were the last people off the plane. We were met at the end of a long hallway by people at a table who were yelling "if you have connecting flights in less than an hour COME HERE". So we did. They had hotel vouchers and meal vouchers and new boarding passes for a flight in the morning. "if you DON'T make your flight, you can use these. " But we were determined to make that flight. Never mind that we had to go through customs and security. Never mind that the security guy who was dealing with Charley was a very mean, tiny man of Foreign descent who wanted nothing more than to piss Charley off by making him go through every pocket of his utilikilt (of which there are many) and made JH go through THREE times and take his shoes off (getting shoes off and on my boy is not one of the easiest things on the planet) before we could pass through. Never mind that our gate was the equivalent of a mile away. Charley picked up his backpack AND Joe-Henry's and we all three sprinted (it must have been hysterical to see). Joe-Henry had one shoe on and was carrying the other, running his heart out. We got to the gate and the gate agent told us they had just. closed. the doors.

Sweaty. Pissed. Out of breath. I was taking over at this point because Charley didn't have any words at his disposal that didn't blow your hair back. I was doing my best polite but firm Lutheran Sunday School Teacher (Missouri Synod!!) to talk to the gate agent, and later the customer service gentleman who looked a bit afraid that Charley might come unglued and begin to rip some of those airport seats right out of the ground.

There was nothing to be done except catch our breath and go to the hotel and get Joe-Henry one of the coolest Philly's Jerseys we could find. But as we were walking past our gate, I noticed that it still had the Portland flight listed. It was at least 20 minutes past when we had tried to board - what was the hold up? The gate agent motioned us over and said they were still on the ground and having an issue with one of the bathrooms, we might be able to board after all!

Hallelujah!!!

So we did. We weren't seated together at first. Then we were. So we joined the very crowded passenger list and buckled up and waited for the plane to take off.

And then we waited a few more minutes.

The captain then came over the intercom and told us that we would all have to get off the plane because the problem with the bathroom couldn't be fixed and they were going to try to get us a new plane. At that point we gave up. We made sure we could board the plane the next morning and went over to the Hilton where they generously put us up and fed us and were nice to us, and we talked baseball with the waitstaff and then slept for 5 hours like the dead.

We came home and were catching up on sleep, we all went back to work and school and then in the middle of the night a few nights ago, Charley woke up with back spasms again. He's been to the chiropractor and the doctor, and has about a three hour window with the drugs where he doesn't sound like a dinosaur giving birth. We're hoping he can truly recover this weekend. He's gone through most of his sick time. He's worried about missing work. Joe-Henry cries every time he sees his Daddy in so much pain.

But still, even with all of that, we are still basking in the glow of the trip (although he basks better on drugs). And it was so, so worth it.

Highland Fling

2009-10-11T14:41:00.000-07:00

My man had a birthday. And he took us to Scotland to celebrate.

The stories, oh, the stories.

The massacre of Glencoe. The battle of Killiecrankie. The true meaning of The Bonnie banks of Loch Lomond that our tour guide Dan told us with his beautiful lilting brogue...

The people are the warmest, friendliest, truest people. And when they talk, you feel instantly as though you are hearing the language sung rather than spoken. I felt at home at once. And I even liked Haggis.

Here is a big, fat, juicy slideshow of our trip. I'm not kidding - it takes a while to watch, so if you have the time, lovely, if not be warned.

Hope For The Best, Prepare For The Worst....

2009-09-27T20:07:00.001-07:00

.....or pack for a trip abroad with an eight year old. We are heading out on a trip to Scotland to celebrate my fantastic, sexy, amazing husband's "significant" birthday, and I spent the whole day packing. And while I was packing, Joe-Henry seemed to sound more miserable, more stuffed up, and then, oh no, he actually took a nap.

Which is shorthand for "he's sick".

So - hubby stays home from work with him tomorrow to take him to the doctor - his throat is so swollen and bright red, and he's running a slight fever, and feels "heavy". The hope is that he gets it out of his system before we go.

In the meantime, I have packed all the "remedies". I've followed my list to the letter, and I'm drinking Emergen-C until it's coming out my ears.

"No cold approach, no altered mien,
Just what would make suspicion start;
No pause the dire extremes between,
He made me blest-and broke my heart.?

Robert Burns

An Enigma Wrapped In A Riddle

2009-09-23T06:31:00.000-07:00

Joe-Henry has been asking us to download music he hears onto his iPhone (my old phone minus the phone part, lest you think we're spoiling him rotten.) We have a deal with him: for every song he downloads, he must play 30 minutes of music on piano, drums, guitar.... so yeah, we're bribing him, basically.

So far the music he's chosen has been stuff he's heard on Madden 09 (heading banging rock, with some rap thrown in for good measure). We listen to it first to make sure there are no bad words, which is really his rule as much as ours. But the other day, he asked for two songs. I loved how different they were, and I loved that I discovered some new music through my boy. I'd heard of Joe Satriani before, but hadn't ever listened to his music. This was his choice, which I dub to be "awesome" (and he rolls his eyes at me every time I say it):

The other song he wanted was this:

Oh, and a ps: remember his "girlfriend"? Last night at dinner, after really hearing nothing about her for a long time, he said "Oh, and Jordan broke up with me at recess today. She said if I didn't play with her for at least 10 minutes every recess, 'we were through'*. It's okay though, because I always had to be the "daddy". Ugh. Girls play weird."

*he actually used air quotes here.

I love that I never know what's coming next.

Beautiful Protest

2009-09-18T06:27:00.000-07:00

I miss the 60's. There was so much to protest, and people sang about it.

Thanks so much, Mary. Your passion and voice made the ugly truth go down so much easier.

It Explains So Much

2009-09-14T06:46:00.000-07:00

From the New York Times article "Thousands Rally in Capital to Protest Big Government":
"The atmosphere was rowdy at times, with signs and images casting Mr. Obama in a demeaning light. One sign called him the “parasite in chief.” Others likened him to Hitler. Several people held up preprinted signs saying, “Bury Obama Care with Kennedy,” a reference to the Massachusetts senator whose body passed by the Capitol two weeks earlier to be memorialized."

From President Obama's speech:
"Right now, three-quarters of the fastest-growing occupations require more than a high school diploma. And yet, just over half of our citizens have that level of education. We have one of the highest high school dropout rates of any industrialized nation. And half of the students who begin college never finish."

There is much work to be done.

An Open Letter To My President

2009-09-06T12:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. President,
I am writing you today because I read something that made me fear for the soul of our country. I'm writing because I felt that if I didn't, my silence would be one more nail in the coffin of this amazing country of ours.

You inherited a country situated squarely in the crosshairs of disaster from so many sources: the economy, war, health care. You were elected for your ability to speak sensibly. So many of us were thrilled just to hear a president speak in full sentences again, but the fact that you seemed to have common sense, and better yet, common DECENCY made many, myself included, feel hope stirring in our dormant souls. You made us believe that we could once again be great, that we would be heard. You made us feel that even dissenters would be listened to.

Mr. President, there are those who would put fear into our hearts about healthcare reform. But when I read this on the front page of the New York Times today, my blood went cold. If this isn't call for reform, then we have lost all hope. Here is a portion of the article, because I know you're a very busy man:

The bankers plan to buy “life settlements,” life insurance policies that ill and elderly people sell for cash — $400,000 for a $1 million policy, say, depending on the life expectancy of the insured person. Then they plan to “securitize” these policies, in Wall Street jargon, by packaging hundreds or thousands together into bonds. They will then resell those bonds to investors, like big pension funds, who will receive the payouts when people with the insurance die.

The earlier the policyholder dies, the bigger the return — though if people live longer than expected, investors could get poor returns or even lose money.

Either way, Wall Street would profit by pocketing sizable fees for creating the bonds, reselling them and subsequently trading them. But some who have studied life settlements warn that insurers might have to raise premiums in the short term if they end up having to pay out more death claims than they had anticipated.

If this doesn't call for health care reform, or doesn't at least call into question both the banking and insurance industries, then what? This ghoulish idea reminds me of the old B movie "Soylent Green". Billions would be made from the deaths of our fellow citizens. To simplify even further: Death = Profit.

We didn't elect you for politics as usual. We elected you because we believed that you would do the right thing, not just the thing that would get you elected next time. Please, Mr. President. Shake us up, bitch slap us out of our zombie-like state and LEAD us.

Please. Please.

You CAN Go Home Again

2009-09-05T16:24:00.000-07:00

I spent so much of my growing up time tapping my foot, waiting to blow the small town dust off my britches, and then spent the NEXT twenty years looking over my shoulder heaving a sigh of relief that I HAD escaped. Last weekend, I roadtripped with my sister and Joe-Henry back to the old stompin' grounds to hang with my brother, his daughter and her sweet family, and to catch up on the lives of friends, some of whom I hadn't seen in at least 30 years. And I realized how much I had missed it - this town where I grew up. It seems more beautiful to me each time I visit.

We packed baseball gloves and ice cold pops and I took my camera. I burned some cd's for the road, and both coming and going we sang and soaked in the gorgeous scenery. The Columbia Gorge is one of the most beautiful places on earth, and just outside the Dalles, we saw a herd of Big Horn sheep grazing the narrow rock wall above us. There was no stopping to take pictures, the road was too narrow, but suffice to say that we were all in awe. I did manage to get some pics once we hit the Palouse, but mostly the camera was used to take shots of sweet Isaac, my nieces two year old boy.

Joe-Henry fell in love with Isaac, and although they'd met before, Isaac is more mobile and talkative now, and Joe-Henry really relished being like an older brother. It's a role he'd be very, very good at, and I loved seeing him have the opportunity to be a good role model. He also wore out all of our arms playing catch, and one evening he was just so close to driving me crazy that my brother suggested a drive. I took my camera, and we went up to a big ball field and while Joe-Henry and my brother and sister played and JH ran and ran and ran, I managed to get some shots of the most amazing sunset I've ever seen. The hills surrounding the valley I grew up in are so luscious and voluptuous. I never saw them that way before, but this time they just took my breath away.

We played a killer game of Monopoly, and now I'm convinced that my fairly quiet, sweet brother has a secret cave of money somewhere. He truly has a killer instinct at that game, and should he ever decide to do so, he'd be an EXCELLENT land baron! We also laughed so hard we all leaked from somewhere. Drooling, weeping, peeing - we did it all. My stomach hurt the next day from laughing so hard.

Our last night there, Joe-henry and my sister watched Isaac while my brother went to his Fantasy Football meeting and I went to have dinner with friends I hadn't seen in forever. These were the people that started me on the path to the Theater, people that even all these years later I feel completely comfortable with and truly love being around. We met doing Babes In Arms at Lewiston Civic Theater in 1977, and even though the years have taken us all in different directions, it took no time at all to feel as though no time had passed. It filled up my heart to the brim and over just to sit around the table and tell stories and laugh. My fondest hope is that it won't be another 30 years before I see them again!

Coming home that night, I was swinging on a star, and I guess Joe-Henry was a big help to my sister, because as you can see, Isaac pooped out before his mom came to get him!

We made the drive back the next day, taking our time stopping to stretch and take in the charms of the small farm towns along the way, marveling at the changes in the scenery, what with the wind turbines and the millions of wineries populating what used to be miles and miles of nothing.

But the best part of going away is always coming home, and my husband, who should win some sort of prize just for being a sexy kilt-wearing beast, surprised me by painting the dining room while we were gone. He had two whole days to himself, and he chose one of those days to do something he knew would make me smile. I love that man to the moon and back again.

And now the countdown to our next trip begins. Less than a month to go, then SCOTLAND! My traveling shoes are so happy.

O Captain, My Captain.

2009-09-05T10:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, JH was trying his best to entertain himself while I attempted to file away months worth of crap on my desk. He decided to put on his nice jacket, shirt and tie (which he's nearly outgrown!) and his captains hat, and walk sentry in front of the house with his nerfgun. After he did this for a while, he went to his computer downstairs and just did some typing while he "took orders" from an imaginary leader.

I used a sepia treatment on this one because it was sort of blown out, exposure-wise, but I loved how serious he was. It looks like he's my great-great grandfather who was in the Russian Army.

Eight years old is really, really fun.

Road Trip!

2009-08-28T06:50:00.000-07:00

Heading to my home town with Joe-Henry and my sister today. Charley can't make it because he has to work, but will get two glorious do-nothing quiet days in the house to play guitar and watch entire seasons of Battlestar Galactica.

I love taking the drive, and I love seeing my brother and his daughter and her sweet family.

I'll bring back lots of stories, and pictures I'm sure!

Until then: love your life, sing your song!

things I love

2009-08-22T09:42:00.001-07:00

things I love
Originally uploaded by anniemcq

my boy; his big finger; his thoughtfulness; his feet; his rub-on tattoos; the way he curls up into a little snuggly ball in the morning; the little octagonal window that casts an octagonal beam of light onto our beat to crap wooden floors. My heart is full. To bursting.

That popping sound you hear? Now you know what it is.

Summer 2009 - free association

2009-08-21T14:48:00.000-07:00

baseball
laundry
catch
grass
mowing
broken
trimming
raspberries
eating
tomatoes
blackberries
baking
cobbler
cats
crazy
iCarly
boredom
Wii
friends
grief
beauty
sunsets
pink
gold
breathtaking
camera
snap
whir
satisfaction
sex
laughter
tears
gratitude
happiness

aging
perfection
love

Our Summer of Baseball

2009-08-17T08:07:00.000-07:00

The song is "Pop Fly" by Justin Roberts

Heaven's New Guitar

2009-08-13T19:03:00.000-07:00

This was in 2006 when he was 91. Thanks, Les. You changed the world of music, and we are richer for it.

You MUST Check Out This Blog

2009-08-13T08:17:00.000-07:00

Last night at baseball practice, a mom friend mentioned this blog. It's by a local mom, one I see every day at the school I work at. I LOVE this blog. During these tough times, when stress seems to be a constant companion, it's a gift to see someone looking at the brightside. I'll be visiting daily:

See for yourself