found

I always wonder about the things I see. Sometimes I'm even lucky enough to have my camera with me when I see something that strikes me as wistful, or beautiful, or strange, or worth remembering. Sometimes (and I'm thinking about that abandoned yellow house that I pass every day going to and fro from work that sits in that lovely shaggy field) I have to remember and go back, and often the light has changed or the story isn't the same, and the urge? muse? flees.



Without whimsy, without cartoon eyes and ears and fairies, I believe:

That a tree, chopped down and hurled in chunks on the forest floor, senses the pieces of itself near, and it is comforted. When the splitter roars, the wood screams silently, gaping, choked, horrified cries, and then quiets when stacked, lulled by the proximity of itself, even in pieces.

and then there were two

 Goodbye, Chumba.

We had to put down one of our cats the day before yesterday, and the house feels strange and well, stupid without him.
We were resigned to it - he's been going downhill for some time - but the stark silence where there was once a rumble purr will take some getting used to.

The other cats are unsettled and looking for him. Kate yowl and stares out the window, and won't be pacified with extra ear-rubs and attention. Lucy is digging her way through every closet in the house, keeping up a mumbled conversation, wondering where on earth her friend has gone.

The hardest part about being a pet-owner is knowing that you have to let them go. They depend on me for food and water and to help them feel better - even when the best thing you can do for them is to send them into that good night.

I knew that. I just didn't expect it to be so soon.


B and I are agreed that soon, we'll think about another cat. Maybe even a kitten this time. Just as soon as we can stop reaching up in the middle of the night to that place on my pillowcase where our ginger-furred kitty slept. But thirteen year old habits are hard to break.



*Even though this came out sad and raw (and I suppose in some ways we are) we're not all huddled in the fetal position, crying puddles. Actually, the kids and I are off to the farm market, the library and the grocery. Maybe we'll go walking in the park too. Pictures later!*

hodge-podge

alternate title: Things my post folder has had in it the last week

• I've been having a hard time finding stories to listen to lately. Water For Elephants, while a great book, does NOT come off well in audio, and the otherwise interesting-and -worth listening to story about the fifteen-year-old Indian prostitute? Not so great for when the kids are in the car.

• It's September, the kids are back to school, my rounds of much-loved committee meetings and volunteer work have begun, and I'm finally getting into a groove at work.

• B built the first fire tonight, as it's been a wee bit damp and rainy, and now I'm sitting here trying to look grateful and not actively sweat all over him while he chats on about the bread he made today and we talk about everything and nothing at all.

• I saw my first autumnal tree today. And while it was gorgeous and still-new and exciting enough so that I smiled at the sight, I'm just a wee bit horrified that summer slipped away so fast. It seems like I should have a tighter grip on the changing seasons by now - so much comes with age and maturity - why not that power?

around the corner....

damn, I love living near the water.

the war on crunchy green stuff

My two wander into the kitchen at least three times while I'm cooking, asking for a taste or offering to stir or mix or (god protect us) chop something. And they chat with me about their days, and things will be going swimmingly until a suddenly odd silence falls and I wince in anticipation of the dreaded question ka-thudding into my poor, tired-of-this-battle heart.

"Are there onions in that?"

Yes, I'll say irritably, yes, there are. But I'm cutting them up fine, see? They'll melt into supper. You'll hardly notice them.

"Huh", will come the unbelieving answer, with a definite tone of don't think you're going to hide those from me, and then I'll be watched as I massacre the onions into tiny bits of mush. Then the second question - there's always a second question! - will follow, and I'll grind my teeth silently while they peer into the pot and intone:

"What other vegetables are in supper?"

I have to stop and admire their syntax. While the general air of disdain gets the message across, there is no implied promise the vegetables will be eaten - no 'What else are we eating?' that I can hold over their heads, however clumsily.

Lately, the only vegetable not scorned is carrots. Raw carrots. And dip. And I'm thankful, but limited as to how many times I can serve baby carrots and dip and legitimately call it a healthy or yummy meal.

My children are fabulous little creatures. They even put their plates in the sink.

However, I've come to the conclusion that the gesture is less from my efforts to teach them manners, and more to hide the evidence of  the careful picked-out offending veggies.

They can't get scurvy and die if I feed them enough apples, right??

the end of summer

And it's suddenly the LAST day of summer vacation for my two, and oh! what a'griping and a'groanin' did I hear this morning when I sang up the stairs that they had to get ready to go to the babysitters!

Geez. You'd think I was pulling them from sleep, or something.

(Whoops.)

Today is exciting, because after the work day is done, they get to go and have their hair done. And there will be the usual new backpack and sneaker buying frenzy before school begins tomorrow.

Adding to the excitement is the possibility of a hurricane making a wash of Nova S this weekend. Suppose I'd better scoop up some basics, too, in case we're without power for a few days.

The last few days have been unseasonably hot. We put our pool back up (we'd taken it down before we left for vacation) and due to a couple of leaks it sits lumpishly half-filled, waiting for more water.

R didn't care. She splashed and crashed and tossed herself around. I daresay she had more fun by herself with it last night, even as a glorified wading pool, then she would have had sharing it with others.

I had fun watching her, too. My, the summer went fast!

a few from the road

this vacation

Was a hoot.

After spending a few days with my parents in New York (and watching both my fearless five year old and my mmmmph-old father go down an incredibly high water slide and come out smiling (and go again) and going back to Michigan and seeing my stepfather and gathering up reminders and momentos of my mothers life, we drove (and drove and drove) through some very gorgeous parts of Canada to get back

and now I have more laundry than God and a house that's really too small to hold the big stately old furniture that I brought back with me.

We went through Audrey's beloved Maine - green and blue, with overcast clouds and a full-on fast drizzle not dimming the enthusiasm of the canoeists and kayakers. No wonder that state inspires such loyalty - despite having faces full of rain and wind, the people I saw still looked as through they'd rather be there than anywhere else.

This trip was wistful for more than a few reasons - I took my family to the house where my mother lived and died (I kept expecting to turn around and see her, and the ghost of her laughter lingered in the air) and this is assuredly the last trip we will be able to convince Rosey that farms with hay-rolls sunning themselves in the fields are marshmallow factories.

Another Rosey-note: R was convinced she had a seagull friend that was following us. From Lake Canandaigua to Lake Huron, from Port Huron to Toronto, we always seemed to have at least one seagull swooping and wheeling in the far-flung sky. We giggled about it privately, but hey - who could tell?

Cass discovered the joys of flinging sticks into the woods and chasing frisbees with dogs, stories on i-pods and the fine art of insulting your sibling until tears flood the car. (sigh.) He also discovered the fine taste of fresh raspberries, KFC mashed potatoes*, and a tall frosty glass of (glurk) diet vanilla root beer. (No, not together.)

B drove the whole way, consoled and diverted and ran interference for me when I needed a time-out, and was my shoulder to cry on. And he didn't complain - not once - about spending his vacation in a car with two (sometimes) whinging offspring, or piloting a car and trailer through high-speed city traffic.

It amazes me how you can leave your home, come back in two weeks, and how everything looks different. Not shabbier, or alien, but spaces seem elongated somehow and shadows seem wrong. Did the trip home always seem so long? Was that empty lot always there?

But the remembered wonderfulness of your bed, with your pillows and your blankets? Doesn't change.
Yawn.


*In Canada, Kentucky Fried Chicken doesn't serve mashed potatoes. It's all fries.

things I wonder about

There are things I wonder about, you know.

Small things, inconsequential things meshing in with the big questions, ponderings that strike in the shower and follow me through my day.

What will we do when one of the cats passes away? While Lucy is still technically a kitten (although she's as round as the moon and twice as tricky) Chumba of the Motorboat Purrrr is twelvish and Kate The Venerable seventeen. I like having three cats around - I enjoy their camaraderie and personalities, but really - litterboxing for three? Not fun.

What do people do with the nose pads on their glasses when they get dirty? There's obviously some trick to it - everyone doesn't wait until they get good and filthy and then slink into the optometrists to ask, all red faced, for them to be changed, do they? Judging from the muffled snickers that drift out from the back room where all the twee tools are kept, they don't. So there has to be some rhyme or reason to it, and poking at them with q-tips doesn't seem to be working. (She said, huffing indignantly while picking at bits of fluff caught under the threads of the screws)

I wonder whether this vacation (a trip to see my father and step-mother, then a rocket ride up to U-Haul some of my mother's belongings out of my step-father's garage) is going to be more happy then sad. Gosh, I hope so. It's been ten years since I've been back to where I grew up, and I want to show my kids everything.

Is B's head is going to pop clear off his neck when the kids get their hair highlighted? (It was their choice as a reward for getting awesome grades. B, sweetheart, it's just hair. It grows back. But be warned. I took your preference into mind and scheduled their appointments for after we get back from seeing my family, but September 2nd? 6 pm? It's on.)

Yeah. Those things. So if you're standing behind me in the grocery and I look glazed and troubled in the canned food section? I'm probably not pondering War and Peace. Feel free to interrupt.

Seriously. Anyone know the trick to cleaning the damn nose pads?

toothless magoofalis

Rosey lost yet another tooth last night. She's down to one front tooth (the stubborn one that won't fall out) and no bottom front teeth - what is this, a babyhood regression?

Poor kid is going to be gumming her food for awhile.

She's actually a bit freaked out about the whole deal - learning to chew on the sides of her mouth, trying to remember that she can't bite raw carrots anymore - and so I guess I wasn't surprised to hear that the Tooth Fairy doesn't get this tooth, either. Not that I blame her. Baby looks like a boxer. Or a hockey player. I'd probably hold something against the Tooth Fairy too.

Three teeth now live in Rosey's jewelry box, hidden from the Tooth Fairy's grabby paws.

Of course, the first thing she did this morning was excitedly look under her pillowcase. Whether or not the Fairy got the goods, she was sure to leave money, right?

And of course, B (who I still haven't seen with the gauzy wings and foofy wand that is the Official Fairy Costume 'round these parts, what's up with that??) had snuck in.

'Looth! The Faiwwy weft me money!'

Of course she did, honey. Of course she did.

Excuse Mama while she giggles picturing your teachers trying to understand you in school, won't you?

"Mama? Whath tho funny?'

Nothing, grown-up girl. Nothing.

the unbloggability of normal

Well. I deleted a post.

Not because I don't want to tell you what's going on (because frankly I would love to get some opinions about this) but because I'm not sure I can write it down.  Too raw right now, so to speak.

Suffice to say we're all fine here, and skip to the next.

My passport finally came yesterday - hmm, think the long waiting period has anything to do with them being valid for ten years? And still no sign of my permanent resident card. I'm on a fast-track list, but the government has very pointedly sent me an email stating that there are no guarantees that it will be here before I leave.

(something unprintable)

Government agencies make me mental. Oy.

I'm getting excited about our trip - I'm going to see my parents and my stepfather AND my brother AND my best friends....what's not to like? Now to face the daunting task of packing....