Still damp from the bath after a long, warm day outside. Hair drying naturally, soft and curly. Slipping into the twin bed with its crisp and clean sheets, the top sheet folded down a sure sign of mom’s love.
Archive for May, 2007
My Baby is a Winner!
There were a bunch of bike races on Sunday. The course was about a mile long, and went right past our house.
The roads were closed, and they put up hay bales around the turns in case someone wiped out. (No one did, but boy were we watching for that.)
You can see in the back of this picture the guy coming around the corner. He would end up in second place.
And here is the rest of the crowd coming around the bend. The first place WINNER is shown clearly in front, smiling for the camera. Wow, is she cute in her pink helmet! 
It’s a Pirate’s Life For Me!
I believe I’ve said all there is to say about my love for Keith Richards.
Keith Richards, with Johnny Depp AND a cute, boyish Keira Knightly in a pirate movie? Heaven.
It exemplified perfectly my wonderful three day weekend in which I lived my pirate’s life quite well. All things I like about my life were present – even those secret things I’ll never tell.
Yo ho ho.
You may find this gross but
I don’t always hate the smell, when it is humid, of a somewhat sweaty guy standing next to his patchouli-drenched girlfried, as long as they are standing just outside of the spicy Mediterranean restaurant.
The Backyard in May (thanks, Jean!)
Just look at how green the grass is, and how nicely my huge hostas are coming in. DTE planted those crazy purple round things, allium; I kind of like them. They seem like a fake flower, something you’d see in a Dr. Suess book.
Here’s a closer look at the ridiculous lushness. The pink and purple columbine were planted last year, and this year they are really flowering well. I love how they look against all the green.
And to make our garden even more peacful, Frank stands guard, patient as always, welcoming the animals. He belonged to my grandmother and when I look at him, I feel her. I am positive that is why our garden is so wonderful; she had a green thumb and made everything beautiful.
My favorite line of the day
“I specified specifically that you would need to bring these to our appointment.”
Band Concert, and my tragic childhood
Last night was the 6th and 7th grade band concert. My mom, Lucy and I went to cheer on GMan. DTE had golf, my dad wanted to work on his lawn, and my sister was “tired” because her driveway was getting new concrete poured. Yeah, that last excuse was pretty lame. And it also dawned on me that this is about the umpteenth time my dad has missed something of GMan’s.
My dad wasn’t around for much of anything when I was growing up. (I swear to you, this is NOT going to be one of those posts about how fucked up I am because my parents weren’t around.) I don’t recall ever being upset by that; it was just the norm. But I remember it. My dad has even made comments about it here and there, how he missed so much of us growing up. I always made excuses for it – he was so busy with work, so busy moving up in his career, busy trying to make our lives comfortable. But now? He’s “retired”, and he works 3 – 4 days a week. And he still misses stuff. It makes me mad, because these are my KIDS. He can miss my stuff, but my KIDS, damnit! Show them some attention.
OK – that was a tangent I did not mean to go on, and if I were any kind of writer (you know, the kind that EDITS) I would delete it. But instead you get the kind of post by the kind of writer I am – the kind that runs at the mouth, and runs at the fingers.
So – the point of this post was supposed to be about those kids at the beginning of adolescence. Oh my god. They are so gawky, so awkward looking, and yet so incredibly beautiful. Their limbs are too long for their heads, their faces are still babyish while covered in acne. Their feet are big, their clothes look goofy. Everything about them is in state of flux. It’s as if you can see them growing and changing before your eyes. I wanted to yell to them “It’s going to get better! It’s going to get worse, and then it’s going to get a whole lot better!”
And damn, but who knew a round robin of french trumpets playing “Three Blind Mice” could sound so good?
Ring a Ding a Ling
People who know me know how I feel about cell phones worn on belts. One word: hate. It looks stupid, and who on earth is SO busy, SO important, that their phone needs to be on their waist at all times? What is wrong with keeping it in your pocket, or a purse? Or, I know this is radical – but NOT KEEPING IT WITH YOU AT ALL TIMES!
Tonight I saw the perfect example of how ridiculous this habit is. I was at GMan’s band concert, and the band director had his phone on his belt. Come ON! Was he expecting an urgent call from a record producer? From the UW Marching Band? I would have given anything to have called him, right in the middle of the flutes’ solo.
“Hello? Oh thank GOD you have your phone on! Thank god you answer at JUST THIS SECOND! I think little Susie Sixth Grader just missed a note!”
