Growing Versions

I am hopeless at sewing, so hopeless that my home economic teacher told me to stop whining when I completely bungled my sewing projects.  I am still not sure why they did not just teach us how to hem pants and darn socks.  That would have gone a lot farther.  Anyhow, my kids are more willing and able to learn how to sew. Their grandmother helped them make pot holders for my birthday present. I was very impressed and the sewing puns kept us in stitches. It was sew funny, you had be there, I sewpose. You should have sewn it.

I am a big fan of parades. What's not to like? People dressed in costumes, music, the occasional sweet being tossed your way.  However, if I had to choose only one parade a year to take my kids to, it would be the Pride Parade hands down.  The Santa Claus parade has nothing on it.  Sure, it's hosted by a magical character who promises great things and perks us up when we are starting our descent into seasonal darkness, but it is the Pride Parade that says, loudly and proudly, "yes, you and you and you, we are happy you are here!"  Come out of the shadows of doubt and fear. "We want you senior citizens, and teenagers and babies and everyone in between, to be here, standing and dancing in the light of day. We, the banks, and the police and the mayor and the everyone want you to be who you are without conditions."   When I really think about what it is I want for my kids, is it infinite magical possibilities on Christmas morning? Or is it wholeness, ha...

It being summer, we have berries to jam. Jam needs jars and so do periwinkles and iced tea at the beach and hot bacon fat from summer-visitor- pancakes and left overs too yummy to compost yet and fresh herbs for keeping for later.

Re-learning how to entertain ourselves without (or less) help from electronic devices is always a good exercise. And it does feel like exercise. How do you play cribbage again? Where is the croquet set? It does not take too long before everyone is launching vending machine 5.0 or creating a world inhabited by Barbies.  The minute the wi-fi starts flowing again, our circuits start getting jammed up again, but , of course, we won't notice that right away.

I have to remember that there are times when showing up empty handed is better than not showing up at all.

 There is a time before can'ts get in the way. A wall is easy.  You just have to duct tape together shingles to make the wall or door you want. There is a time before you hold yourself back from any project, a time when a lack of traditional carpentry skill does not stop you from creating a hideout or a fireplace.  This time exists, I have proof.

 Vacation gets me walking in a straight line again.  No juggling, no strategies, no curve balls, just one foot in front of the other. Straight over there.

This past few weeks we have been carmelizing down by the seashore.  Fireworks in the shape of a school house flared into the black night and split  us right open to the rhythm of the sea and the tides and the tea kettle.  I made plenty of mistakes parenting my kids each day, just like usual, but the difference was I could turn them loose on the sand and they could build up an empire between us.  We walk away each day from one doomed empire and return the next day to loosen the sand and build another.

The first time my kid learned about the tooth fairy, she exclaimed, "I need to lose more teeth, that's how I can make money!!" My son has continued the tradition of mining teeth in exchange for money.  Last night, a slightly wiggly tooth managed to make its way into fairy world by way of the hard graft of a six year old.  He treated extracting that tooth, one bloody wiggle at a time, like a job.  He was paid, although since he is a minor, the fairy did not feel obliged to pay him minimum wage. It was more of a stipend than anything else. Early signs of wiggle in the other front tooth are too early to call, but the fairy may be back to pick up a tooth before the week is out.

Speak only if it improves upon the silence-Mahatma Gandhi Inspired by Wife Mother Expletiving , I gave up writing the blog for the month of June. I wanted to give writing on paper a try. I cracked the spine of a 5-year-old journal, but I only got as far as writing one sentence, maybe 2. Perhaps, I thought, I need a break from writing altogether. I posted a few photos because I just could not resist, but I did not write. I turned instead to the garden. The lush, overgrown patch of grass, mud and decrepit perennials that I have ignored for several years. I will let you , kind reader, fill in all the metaphorical blanks. One day we ate outside and then we ate outside again and again. Then the kids set up a fun fair in the back yard and so it began, an almost daily ritual of being in the back yard.  The back door stood open, the bees and the hornets ran riot.  We ate and played and I spread manure around.  I planted three tiny herb plants and a tomato plant....