Letting it all hang out

So at five minutes to 9:00 at night I found myself in the obscure section of the Water Garden Cinema 6 parking lot, waiting for Beulah to text me if she was able to get tickets for her and a friend to see a movie. I have my phone out and I'm playing a game of sudoku to pass the time. I switch on the radio and I hear a familiar baseline . . . . "Starlight" by Muse, one of my favorite songs (ever since I saw The Tourist and heard that same baseline at the start of the credits--what a great finale!). I'm in my fuzzy leopard pajamas with my coat on and I can't stop myself. I close my eyes and start to sing along, "Far away, this ship is taking me far away, far away from the memories," but I can't keep my eyes closed too long because I'm playing sudoku and it's going so well. I think I might be slightly dancing in my seat by now. Singing, dancing, playing, buzzed by my unusual beverage choice of orange Sunkist soda, I look up and see a guy emerge from the car parked next to me, looking amused. It's nice to enjoy life's little pleasures.

Today I read Like Water for Chocolate. It was entertaining and interesting, but I am not a believer in the strange form of obsessive love that so often presents itself in Latin novels. I just finished Love in the Time of Cholera, which took me five or six weeks to read. Very intriguing characters, amazing detail and descriptions, and yet I'm still frustrated by this irrational, all-consuming passion that insists on calling itself love, yet isn't based on any true familiarity or friendship--just a feeling that manifests itself and seems uncontrollable. I guess I don't trust feelings to be reliable or long lasting. Or fair, even. I think they have their place in courtship, but to place your entire life's happiness based on an emotion experienced with eye contact is absurd.


Gloria

If only we were always this excited!

This is Goose on her first day of kindergarten. I love this picture because she looks so happy and ready to start a new part of her life. I recognize in myself occasionally a lack of enthusiam, and I'm realizing more and more that a downer attitude reaps nothing but more unhappiness.

So here's to having a good day!

This summer has been my busiest in recent memory, chock-full of swimming lessons, errands, braces, newsletters, a Nut Growers' conference, family celebrations, festivals, travels, farewells, dumpsters and now the sweet peeping of baby chicks. It has gone too fast and I find myself wanting to stop time and rewind. I want to capture my children and hold them as close to me as I can. What an unkind paradox that sometimes when you want to hold something so near, your tight grip suffocates and causes pain, rather than showing love. I think about Goose and her fierce loyalty to the neighbor boy. I could do pages on that, btw, but I'm remembering in particular a time that I insisted that she stop playing with him so she could do what I wanted her to do. Instead of happily complying to my wishes when he left, she went into her room and howled and screamed at the separation from her sweet friend.

The big girls have been gone so much. Our home just has a different flavor when they're not here; boring and bland, with a touch of quiet.

The boys have filled their days with books, legos, squabbling and video games.

Husband has been busy with his projects, but he found time to put the Costco laminate down, and I am now so much happier with the floor in my house.

The best thing that has happened this summer I hesitate to mention because it is so precious to me. Beulah and Janey have finally regained their friendship. It is magical and it's a blessing that I will forever cherish.

Magnificent!

Let's just get one thing clear. Husband totally understands about this, making him all the more wonderful a man.
I love Bono. It's not a crush or an infatuation--it is a devotion borne purely out of respect and platonic admiration. Watching Bono walk out onto state last night felt like . . . like a miracle, almost. Here he was, the real thing, out where I could see him with my own two brown eyes. He who had written and sung so many anthems that stirred my sensitivities as a teenager and lifted my spirits as an adult. He was awesome--fun, lithe (I loved how he danced around and lunged forward, cradling the microphone close just like he has in all the concert footage I've seen for 25 years.), passionate and good.
And the rest of the band--it was so perfect. They were incredible and all looked so happy to be there. I saw The Edge pull off guitar riffs that still give me goose bumps. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
It was so wonderful having Husband by my side, his arm around me as I screamed my excitement at seeing all these men.
I couldn't escape the feeling that I wanted to run up and hug Bono, and it's funny because when the sister who'd been on stage put her arm around him and pulled him close, I felt like she was doing it for me. I don't ever need to meet Bono--I don't even want to, really. I'm just one of millions of fans who can appreciate a totally good thing.
BTW, sorry for the lame photos. I brought William's camera and wasn't able to use it to its full capacity, I'm sure. Can you spot the photo I lifted from KSL.com?

Spring Comes with a Pinch of Dread

Will this be the year we rent the rototiller? We have "flower beds" surrounding about half of our yard and every year we start spring with a mad application of Round-Up and pick axes, trying to quash the weeds that have miraculously developed under a winter's worth of snow. A few weekends in March go by (some snowy enough to produce an 8 foot-high snowman) and now in the midst of April I've got crabgrass up to my knees lining the perimeter of my yard. Grrrr. A few soggy onions that we neglected to pick last October are showing new green tops. The fennel that we experimented with last year (a colossal failure, by the way; the plants managed to finally grow big and tall but the bulbs that get harvested when fist-size never grew bigger than Brussels sprouts, and then when I decided that I would simply let the plants go to seed so I could collect the fennel, I discovered that while they smelled like licorice, the seeds tasted like splinters) seems to have resurrected itself. I didn't think it was a perrenial plant but all that green fuzz coming up from last year's dead growth suggests otherwise. And there are about 200 million different weeds that have developed everywhere they find soil. Grrrr again. So while I'm not sure how helpful a rototiller actually will be, I have visions of pepper plants and big red tomatoes and golden mounds of butternut squash pushing up out of dark soil with the help of this marvelous machine. A girl's got to dream, after all.

The End of Winter

Today is the first day of spring, gray though it may be. And on my computer and camera are dozens (hundreds, really) of pictures of the different goings on of the past few weeks. We visited the Hutchings Museum for a surprisingly engaging "Night at the Museum," attended a roadshow where Janey played Queen Vanity (hair and make up done by Beulah, who did a far better job than I would have done), made snowmen who lived less than a day, cooked up a mess of baby back ribs and sweet potato fries, and tried to capture the amazing full moon. If I could capture other things on the camera you'd have an image of T-Bone writing essays on U-Write (not his favorite pastime), Janey diligently playing her flute, Beulah furiously studying for FRQs, da boys spending hours twiddling their thumbs on DSes, and Goose listening to increasingly elaborate stories about Princess SweetPea in Cuddlebee Marsh (you have to ask Husband). Speaking of Husband, he's taking a new job soon and furiously studying to pass his Board Certified Test this week. He's excited for something new and I am so proud of him for always treating his customers over the past two years the same way I'd want my grandma to be treated.

Some Pictures