I’m lousy at identifying trees. My neighbor has a ginormous – Maple? Green Ash? – tree in his front yard that creates the loveliest umbrella over our driveway. On a hot summer day (please let us have a few this year) there isn’t a better place to stand than on the shady cool cement of the driveway, with a dripping popsicle, under the dense lacy shade of that tree.
As we drive down our street, with a carload of groceries, a bike and a set of golf clubs, we can see that amazing tree from the first turn. It anchors the end of our block, marks our sanctuary, and protects us from the elements.
With the slightest breeze, that tree drops a bunch of twigs, leaves and tree bits all over the driveway.
I sweep the driveway, and the stuff is there again the next morning.
And I sweep, again, knowing that I could do this job every day and it will need to be done each day after that. Continue reading →
I did it. Saturday night I 
“Will the rest of your party be joining you?” “It’s too bad your dad couldn’t come with on your vacation.” “Father couldn’t join the family on the cruise?” “Shall I wait until the rest of the family gets here?” To the last comment, I politely smiled and said, “This is the entire family.” I started to wonder if the cruise ship passed through some sort of Mexican Riviera version of the Bermuda Triangle and dropped us right in the middle of 1950.
A long time ago, I realized I couldn’t really boss my kids around. Oh sure, I could, but I’d be annihilating their spirits in the process. I’m not that kind of mom. There are probably a lot of parents that do a great job being the boss all the time (I doubt it), and it’s good for the three of us to remember that I am the boss. But, there is a lot of truth in being selective about which battles to pick.
Sunday is a great day to pound garlic. I probably pound garlic at least three days a week, but Sunday seems to be all about pounding garlic. I’m not rushing to put dinner on the table; I have the time to create in the kitchen, and I’ve got the time to vent and visualize while I cook.
Another one for the “If All Else Fails” File. Make cookies and have the girls over. I had to follow the last downer of a post with something happier. Will and I scooped the chocolate chip cookie dough, and Jen scooped teensy tiny cookies for Barbie and Sophie. She baked them off in the toaster oven and invited me and Will to a party. That’s a miniature bowl of frosting next to the plate of cookies.
“And that is another great example of how there are so many different ways to make a living.” My grandfather used to say that. He’d had his share of different careers – mechanic, draftsman, lumber yard manager and more that I can’t remember. We’d be playing Yahtzee, visiting about someone we both knew, and he’d marvel at how the world was changing and people were finding new and interesting ways to make a living.
