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Showing posts from February, 2012

Hear the thunder - don't lose your head.

There's nothing sacred in teenaged boy culture. Nothing is off limits when it comes to fun poking. Southern gospel legends, literary classics featuring Quakers or depicting civil wars, family traditions, lessons in logic and even reverent moments in Star Wars. Their irreverence is limitless and cynicism boundless. Everything seems to amuse. Aren't I proud?

Actually... They question absurdities and half truths. They recognize a lack of integrity when they come upon it. I'm grateful to see when the hormonal imbalance they experience over several years does not completely destroy their frontal lobes, as once feared. And I find that once I recovered from the shocking discovery that each has their own thoughts, often in direct conflict with mine, I could be secretly proud of the independence they assert, the only Cute and Little that remains in big boys.

This is the goal of parenting after all. Roots followed by wings. Admittedly, the wings they are developing are not as I imag…

Just give me something, something I can use.

• As it turns out, there's a good bit of dust hiding beneath the places I hired my 16 year old son to clean.

• Dusty packing in a home otherwise assumed to be clean creates a miserable situation in one's sinuses.

• Miserable situations in one's sinuses create achy heads and sorry ears.

• Aches in heads and sorries in ears eventually subside only to reemerge in one's lungs.

• Coughing and aches and lung misery hinders the unpacking process, for which I had lofty goals this long weekend but, instead, moved myself at the pace of a snail 2 out of 3 days.

• Additionally, 3 large loads of dirty laundry in the midst of moving further hinders.

• Unless, of course, one's mother offers to take all of it to her house, therein saving

• As I agree to accept this incredible blessing, it humbly occurrs to me that, in doing so, the curtain of my private shame is drawn to reveal just how Not That Good Of A Person I truly am to my mother, Laundry Maven.

• Laundry Maven n…

I know it ain't easy giving up your heart.

In a New Place, Sugarman slinks wide eyed through hallways and up stairs and around corners. He plans his day with fresh confidence. His future seems bright but he can't stay still to enjoy.

In the New Place, Fuzzy isn't so timid but likes to be carried from room to room. She is a beautiful princess, taking for granted the new features and conveniences as if Catering To and Petting Of was her rightful inheritance.

In the New Place, Hodges' cattitude is temporarily refreshed but I don't trust it. For now, she's content to coze and doze on a corner of the bed in a corner of the house, emerging periodically for sustenance and brief social interaction.

In the New Place, there is air and space to which I am unaccustomed. I feel a bit like a guest in a vacation home.

I wander to and fro, busy with nest making and decluttering, wondering where the Thing is and if we left something important back in our old life.

At the New Place, it occurs to me that I don't even …

It's a long way down to nothing at all.

Thick, heavy darkness would not deter her this day. The fog was lifting. A group forms for the anticipated expedition but they don't even know.

The mountain is fierce and beautiful. Bear caves and lizard crevices. Someone had the foresight to create a foothold or two, albeit sparingly, along this side of the rock, as if they knew she would require encouragement along the way. But the vertical path is narrow and daunting all the same and serves only to shake confidence because it is incomplete and unnatural. In spite of man's efforts, she has only one source.

Time was, her fears kept her from following much further up but the promise of the sunrise on the other side will not elude her this time. A nervous silence articulates her intentions to Get out there and Stay out there. Frolicking children rest, sensing an event on the horizon. Are you okay up there, we say. She pushes away all offers of assistance from even the most seasoned climbers. She just won't be led.

Her han…

"...a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open..." - Winnie

The Firsties filed into the library ready for fun and adventure because they always are. This day, we read Make Way For Ducklings because to be a duck in a Robert McClosky book is a grand adventure, complete with Swan Boats, friendly police officers, peanuts and traffic jams. I consider aloud what kind of home a duck might like. They know it all. I show them photos of a real drake but some don't think it's beautiful. I show them a statue memorializing this beloved story but aren't there any stickers?

One understands the reason for the coloring of the female. One admires Officer Mike. One, or so, spends the entirety of the reading conceiving ways to aggravate neighbors and know not what's up with those ducks. Or whatever. One wonders if I have Fly Guy Meets Fly Girl. One wishes that baby duck didn't have his name even if it does rhyme with quack.

One says I'm doing a good job picking out books for him so keep up the good work, he says, and do I know that Vince…