Et tu, October?
That first picture is my new favorite of the Man Cub. It also kind of sums up October for us. I think I had that exact expression on my face most of the time: that, “ID even K what I’m looking at right now.” I’d write about how weird October was, and how appropriate the dinosaur costume and the inappropriate tool in his hand are … but I think I’ve completely lost sight of “normal” anyway. Every month I think, “Well that was weird, but we’ll be back to normal soon.”
What is normal? Read more…
“Everyday I discover more and more beautiful things. It’s enough to drive one mad. I have such a desire to do everything, my head is bursting with it.” ~ Claude Monet
My grandparents have a subscription to National Geographic, and there are usually a few of the latest issues on a couple of end tables in their house. Sometime between Christmas and the dawn of 2014, I laid on the couch in their living room and read an article about a man who spent seven years walking – tracing our best guess of the path that mankind forged from Eden (not that he uses that name) through South America.
And then I put my coat on and went for a walk. (Not south, at least not intentionally.) Because sometimes the world is an oppressively big place.
We can look at all the similarities and mutual acquaintances and social media you like and sing songs about what a small world it is and appreciate that sentiment, but then you have to come back around to reality and admit that the world isn’t small at all. Not really.
It took one man seven years to walk around it, and he still only saw a fraction of it. There are pieces – big pieces – that no one has seen.
Husband came after me pretty quickly because it’s not like me to seek solitude, or to willfully submit myself to cold. He asked what was up, and I struggled then to put into words what I have struggled to put into words for as long as I can remember. Read more…
I have to tell you this story, because I know I will pay dearly for it, and I just have to play it as many times as I can before then.
Husband left his phone at my mom’s house after a Sunday dinner. I arranged to meet my brother to get it back the following afternoon. It was a rainy day. There is a Chick-Fil-A conveniently located pretty much exactly half-way. We could meet, sit and chat over junk food, and the Man Cub could climb around and get out of the house for a bit.
We ordered chicken and waffle fries and found a small table right next to the plexiglass boundary of the play area. Man Cub, of course, wanted nothing to do with waffle fries once he saw the slide – for which I am grateful – so, as there were no other kids in there anyway, I stripped him of his shoes and released him while we sat and ate and watched from just outside the wall.
A short time later a young father and his son – maybe a year older than Man Cub – pulled open the door of the play area and stored tiny sneakers in a tiny cubby. Little Boy took off for the big stairs, and Young Father sat down on the bench inside the play area with his smartphone.
Boys played, Young Father occasionally got up to spin a mirror or push a button, my brother and I ate and talked and watched.
Eventually, during a lull in our own conversation, my brother looked up and casually commented, “Ooop. Throwing punches.” Read more…