When it’s late summer and the heat has passed, you find yourself deflating the pool floaties and moving the sunscreen to the back shelf of the medicine cabinet. You wash and fold swimsuits, beach towels; find storage for that massive sun hat. Sprinkler to the attic. You get to work. You meet deadlines, schedule meetings,
A dance party in the rain brought out the sweetest little tendrils. // Speaking of tendrils, the infamous school bus incident. “I zoomed it, Dad.” #StillLaughing // A peacock from Bee to me, with a bit of help from her Chinese teacher. I’m not a sentimental gal, but this one’s going in the archives. //
So, if you were to come to my house for a cup of tea, I’d apologize and say I don’t carry the stuff, not at the moment. Coffee? I’d offer, and pull out a cold brew from the fridge. You’d find me wearing an old pair of men’s boxer briefs, no bra, yesterday’s hair. I’d
Bee’s crafting chaos, always. // Spoils from Ken’s weekly chore as the officially unofficial Yard Tender. I’m working on this, but I swear, I will never remember to mow the lawn until the grass is at least knee high. #SorryNeighbors // Dinner party and book pre-launch remnants on the tip-top shelf. // Bee’s favorite birthday
What have we been up to, you ask? This. Becoming grown-ups, of both the 4-year-old variety and the 34-year-old one. Trying not to yell at each other. Eating sweet potatoes and kale. Vet appointments, Squinkie towers, reading lessons. Nothing and everything. — Our days have been syrup slow, stretching and sticking into a clump of
Adoption paperwork gets its own shelf. // George gets a haircut. Bernie, not pictured, feeling shorn scorn. // Ken gets a bandaged knee after a large golden doodle runs broadside into his ACL. (Wishing I could’ve seen that, too.) The aftermath swelling and purple topography not stopping him from measuring the deck for a guest-house-slash-cigar-room-slash-how-many-man-rooms-doest-thou-need?
“I am what I am. To look for reasons is besides the point.” Joan Didion wrote this. — Still, we find ourselves continually looking for reasons. We search and peer and squint, pointing our finger at just one more circumstance, one more habit, one more practice that we could – should? – change in order
What’d you learn in Sunday school today? I ask her. We’re in the entryway gathering shoes, stuffing a tote with bug spray, hats, sunglasses. We’re off to the pool. I learned that when someone is sad, you don’t run away. You hug each other, she says, slipping on Crocs. That’s a great thing to learn,
