Grow

Farmers' Market Stylings

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Sunshine

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Thursday's Tales

First full day of kindergarten.

Nu survived and thrived. Then the perfect first day got muddied by not getting on the school bus home--her apologetic teacher said she'd been overwhelmed and had messed up.

We all took a deep breath, dried the tears (mine), cleaned up (the kids) and went house-hunting. Slim pickings, unfortunately. The house in the picture below isn't happening, although I love the grounds and the view it has out in the country...

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Home-bound

The guarding of the child
like a shadow
dilated smoke

The rest of this afternoon
an absence of centuries
a love scent

The growing clarity

pierced animation

astringent

All the words in the world

waiting, forcing

a fly to fly

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Guffaw

It took me a moment (or several) to get why this picture of Karl Marx that Bill Clay titled "The only known picture of Marx and Obama" was so funny to my friends.  It makes me snort.

Clint Eastwood reference here.

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They both start with the letter "R"

I've never paid much attention to the don't-go-out-at-night-by-yourself line. There was always an interesting story as a journo intern or somewhere fun to be or a late night at the library or a necessary grocery run that was too good or important to pass up. I know I'd go bonkers if my kids tried to do the things I've done.

I do take the necessary precautions like all women everywhere. And although there have been a few occasions when I've prickled with fear, I have never spent time worrying about rape. 

So it makes absolutely NO sense that at this particular point in my life, when I'm no longer as gullible or nubile as I once was, to suddenly begin to have fears about rape. True that we're renting in an area that feels a little unsafe. True that I'm sleeping on the first floor for maybe the first time in my life. But it still makes no sense.

Big A wonders if it's because of all the creepy men in women's vagina's lately.

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Before I forget

While I wait for Nu to turn five next month and start Kindergarten this week, I want to write down stuff as she used to say earlier--just this year.

About how she'd get her Rs and Ms tangled and Ms. Rebecca would become the inscrutable "Ms. Mebecca."

How for years, she used T's for all her Ks. And of how we used to tease her by asking her to say "King Kong" so we could giggle when she went "Ting-Tong" like some squishy doorbell.

I'm forgetting things... I want to start doing this vintage postcard calendar journal with the kids.