Dream, Dream, Dream

There is a place I'm dreaming of.

At the end of this dock.

A place where the sun sets. Quietly, but with maximum impact.

And the moon rises. Silently, but with a beauty that steals your breath a little. And reminds you of the thing you already knew. I'm small. Very, very small.

This is a place where no one can find you. Unless you want them to. Family, best friends, birds, oysters, fish, Bobs and Bobalinas: Yes. Telephone sales hasslers, time/money/happiness suckers, uncertain workplaces, CNN and Fox News: No.

We could just hop on here and sail away, couldn't we? Why not?

We'd have everything we need. Room and board. Sky and sea.

We could eat these for dinner every night.

Or these.






I even have children and a FisherMan who are good at catching these. I'll bait all the hooks, promise. The bounty of the waters would feed us. The bounty of our hearts would nourish us. We'd be set. At least for a little while. And if we needed some Land R&R, a little cee-vah-lized company?

It's all good.

But I'd want to get back to this. ASAP. Road trip? Anyone? Anyone?

Stormy Weather

There's been a storm brewing in our house. Transitions, changes...we don't deal well. Small Fry is utterly grumpy, and Big Stuff has had it. I can just see her seething quietly about how this cocky little upstart sister of hers thinks she knows everything now just because she's at MY school, on MY bus, talking trash with MY friends. She's tries to be patient, but she simply cannot let an incorrect math fact or incomplete recitation of vowels pass uncommented upon. It just burns her up. And for her part, Small Fry has taken on a new arrogance that is breathtaking in its scope and fury. This morning, I ruined her day completely when I disagreed with her that Daddy got her up late (I think because it was still dark outside, although the time, of course, was 6:45 on the nose, just like every other day. Explaining why it was getting darker in the mornings was beyond me, prior to coffee. And probably still, after coffee). She also now notices tone of voice. Patronizing will not do. She needs to understand. Or rather YOU need to understand her. It's tiring.

They still find ways to relate though. I felt that I might laugh uncontrollably two days ago when they came downstairs to perform the "Dog Show" for us. This consisted of Small Fry following Big Stuff, on a leash mind you, and performing various tricks and doggy behaviors on command and without benefit of human voice to argue or propose changes. The show ended with the "amazing doggy headstand" in which Yogurt the dog happily stood on her head for unending minutes while doing various yoga poses in the air. I can't even properly explain to you how cute/hilarious/absurd this was. Big Sister Gets Her Revenge In the End. Never fails.