it was just like that...

Illustration by Cicely Mary Barker

Today Ben told me I have a cute personality, and, well, I just don't ever want to forget that. (Heeee likes my spark!!!!!!) ^_^

 

the house with numbers...

Illustration by Roger Duvoisin

This is an attempt to blog about the number eight. I was going to title it "The Number Eight", but I've found I'm much to fickle to decide these things in advance. Who knew that cleaning the basement would inspire so many new blogs? Well, the number eight is a mailbox sticker, a very large mailbox sticker which I purchased shortly after moving into this house, some years ago. There were three other numbers. They're all supposed to go together, and they're all supposed to be on the mailbox. Since we moved in, our basement has flooded almost every year, which has led to lots of frantic scurryings to get everything to higher ground. At this point, pretty much everything down there is in a plastic tub with a lid, because that is the only way. So, one year we had what we like to call the Great flood. So much of our stuff was ruined and tossed out, and anything dry was quickly tossed into any random box with a lid in the chaos. We now have several large tubs filled with who knows what. This is the same situation which led to my previous post "Chris's Keys". So, every once in a while, when I'm in the basement rummaging through, looking for something, I'll come across one of these numbers. I have high hopes that one day they'll all come together and go on the mailbox. As it is, our post-man just knows that our mailbox is the one with no numbers. I could go out and just buy new numbers, and I've thought about it before while standing in Home Depot. I was right there in the sticker section trying to tell myself that the original numbers were way too big anyway, and I should just replace them; but I couldn't do it. I really just feel that, one day, it'll work out. One day... my shower will work, Snow's wall will be patched, the kitchen will have cabinets, & the rooms will have baseboards. The decks will be done, Sage won't run off, the mice won't get in, and the boxes in the basement will be completely organized. That is when I'll find them. The numbers will be there. You know what, I should take number 8 out there right now, just in case, before it gets lost. I wonder if it'll confuse the mailman if I just start sticking them on as I find them. Anyway, that's all. I'll let you know how it all pans out.

 

Chris's keys...

Way back a few years ago, when my kids were a little much smaller than today, there was a key. The key belonged to the house of Annie, a neighbor's dog. The neighbor was named Chris. Chris had issued the key to my children for Annie's sake, so she could get outside in the afternoons while he was away. Annie loved it, the kids loved it, and Chris loved it, and all was well, until one day, we lost the key. I say we, because I feel some responsibilty (the kids being so small), but I want you to know, I never touched the key. This was an arrangement between Chris and the kids, which they seemingly had under control. I was a little embarrased to have to admit we had lost the key to his house, but Chris just laughed and went out and made a new key. After maybe a week or so, we repeated that exact same scenario. Then, again a while after that. At some point, Chris gave us a ring with two or three house keys. Personally, at this point, I would have had my locks changed, but he didn't seem too concerned. Honestly, I don't know that he had any other options for Annie. It was definitely awkward for me; I was mortified to mention to him on numerous occasions that we had lost the key yet again. It reminds somewhat of a feeling I experienced in school when I was tardy at over and over, that feeling, walking into the administrators office and having to come up with fresh excuses again & again. I still haven't gotten over my phobia of administrators. So anyway, these shenanigans with Chris and Annie all took place about 6 or 7 years ago. They are no longer our neighbors. In fact, they no longer live in our old neighborhood. So a few weeks ago, we were cleaning the basement. I hope you are already laughing; we laughed so hard. A few weeks ago, Daniel, Hannah, Emmeli, and I were going through some junk boxes in the basement. I had been down there all day cleaning and organizing and wanted to get to some sort of stopping point, so I had called in the reinforcements. It was the end of the day & the kids were all being so silly. They just didn't understand the seriousness of the situation; I really needed to get the heck outa there. So they're just pilfering through, stuffing their pockets with long lost treasues. Daniel was DJ and he was playing the worst music he could imagine, in an attempt to force me outa there, so I would stop giving orders and just let them party. But I hung in there. There were only a few things left to do, and I was enjoying having everyone around me after being down there by myself all day. I was fighting with Daniel to change the music, trying to get Emmeli to take off the roller blades (and then get off the skateboard), & trying to get Hannah to stop getting so distracted by all the shiny objects and get down to business. "What's this? What's that? Oh yah, I remember that." And then suddenly, she blurts out, "Chris's keys!" I think it took a half second for all of us to get passed thinking, who's Chris? Then, we all burst out laughing (everyone except Emmeli, I think, who's probably still thinking, who's Chris?)

 

Lighting the way...

Illustration by Adrienne Adams

If you follow me on instagram, then you already know that, yesterday, I was up in Hannah's room snapping pictures. I've been thinking about that a lot lately. I've been wanting to take pictures of simple things like: the ukulele leaning in the corner of my room next to an unhung painting of a banjo, a crocheted rhino standing on the metal shelf in my closet, or a cup of coffee in the shadow of a stack of school books. We take for granted that we'll remember these peaceful mini-vistas. They are the backdrop and part of the setting for so many memories. Things that are so familiar today will one day be forgotten. I can remember when my kids were a bit younger, I used to think "these are the glory years", but now, I think these are the glory years. They haven't replaced the former ones, they are just a very long extension. I love these days.

So, yesterday, I went up to see Hannah during her writing time. She was sitting on the floor next to her mushroom stool, listening to music, and talking to herself as she wrote. I could hear her as I was walking up the stairs. Last year, on her birthday, which is steadily approaching again, she set a goal to write a book & she's now almost done with the first draft. The book has nine chapters, which she laid out in the beginning. Each chapter highlights a new adventure or encounter experienced by a little boy named Erven. The sweetness of the book is Erven's unique perspective. As you observe his antics, you find yourself growing and stretching and shrinking as well, and I mean that in the most philosophical way. The largeness of your world will be swallowed up by the smallness of his; you'll find yourself understanding things you already knew. You'll find that you're a better person after a short walk home from school with Erven. So anyway, that's the best I can do to describe it on short notice & I'm excited for you to read it. It's amazing when your kids are writers. As they painstakingly light the way, you get to see all the shiny things hiding under the surface of the day to day.