Monday, July 26, 2010
Seriously, our life is so opposite of exciting, I know.
This weekend I brought the sewing machine along to the lake and spent Saturday sewing curtains. The fabric has been in the closet for over a year. (Procrastination.)
Jay took the kids swimming, over to the sand bar on the island, bike riding, while I sat in the dining room sewing.
that's a dishcloth around her freezie because it's too cold to hold.
But it's good. It feels surprisingly good to have it done--the same the feeling as when you open the door on a clean refrigerator. Ahhh.
after--later we even moved that stupid dog kennel out of there and brought in the dryer. sam likes to lie down in that kennel sometimes, so we didn't want to get rid of it entirely, but it gets very little use.
Today was a quiet day. The sleepover guests went home this evening after dark.
My sister and her daughters met us at the little pool this afternoon, so we sat in the shade and watched the kids swim. My beautiful niece came back and spent the evening with us. She turned fifteen yesterday, and she's tall, with dark hair and eyes, polite manners, is insightful and funny.
okay, see that pole in the middle? tim had on goggles and turned to splash into the water and went head first into that thing. he bit his tongue, hit his forehead hard, the poor kid. he staggered out of the pool to my arms, but shortly felt foolish and wrapped a towel around his head until he felt better. unh. who knew that could even happen?
The crew baked while I took Tim to softball, and they ate everything they made. They're good bakers. We enjoyed the bits that were left.
At the end of the night I drove my niece home in the dark. They live out in what once was the country. Even now, with housing developments all around them, the big farm on the hill is operational and it smells like my aunt's house, animals, milk, and warm grass. Their road is very dark with crunchy gravel, yellow lights in the windows.
We said good-bye and headed home again through the summer night, warm wind lifting our hair, Freddie Mercury on the radio. Back at home, we tucked Julia and Tim into bed, said prayers, and fetched the damned Yo-J.
Okay, this is a Julia story: One night last winter, I said I'd get the Yo-J while she was putting on her pajamas. She said no, no, no. "First pray the prayers. Then kiss us and shut off the lights. THEN I'll yell for Yo-J."
Yeah, it felt like a plot designed to annoy.
Sigh. Beautiful, perfect July. love, Val