hey september!

Dannell took these yesterday, kids riding old bikes in the field.  The light and low angle of the sun are all about late summer.  Pics continue to be chopped off. You will have to click on each one to see them as they actually appear.

The ivy is beautiful this summer, the part that grew.  There is a lot of dead on the back of the house.  Maybe I'll plant some new in the spring.

No Monarch caterpillars this year, not a single one.  We've got this pretend guy though.

Last week I bought fabric and sewed a new valance for the bedroom at the cabin.  Now I think the sheers look horrible.  Those have to go. I need new ones, brighter ones.  And the bedspread, which came with the cabin and has been minimally chewed by mice over the winter at points?  That needs to go too.  

But, while I was buying the fabric for the valance I was super distracted by the flannel, and bought a pile of it to sew into baby blankets, and I already had a pile waiting to be sewn. Today I had time to sew a few and I am very fond of this frog and camper blanket.  The other one is cute too, has great colors.

Anyway, September, you beautiful creature, glad you showed up. This has been some kind of year.

Love, Val

where is he??

He wasn't actually lost at all. We just thought he was--Lydia had followed along with him and taken him on a walk back to the field.

We were all working--Alicia was nursing her baby. I was cleaning and packing inside. The men were putting the trailer away. The older kids were in the yard putting away lawn chairs and hanging around.

And then Alicia realized he was gone. 

Gone.

We fanned out searching.  I ran through the house yelling his name, knowing he probably wouldn't answer anyway, would just stand quietly. 

I raced up the stairs and scanned the bedrooms, looked between the beds and in the closets. 

Outside, below the windows, I saw Alicia in the road, baby in her arms, searching up and down, scanning the resort next door, and John racing along the shore and docks.

Horrifying.  Terrible.

He was fine.  Never lost at all, not in danger.

Whee. I've been through this before.  Once upon a time we couldn't find Kirsten. We searched and hollered.  The big boys and uncles were searching in the shallow water, terrified.   I ran through the cabin looking one more time and spotted a trail of blonde hair sticking out of a sleeping bag.

She'd fallen asleep on a day bed in the side room.   GAWD.

This happened too with James.  He was hiding between the wall and a bed because he had some hit clips toy he wasn't supposed to have.  Bullshit on hit clips.  Who cares. I was so angry I felt like assaulting every person in the cabin.

They all stared at me.  Obviously I'm the one who is freaking out, and they are all are not.  I went for a walk.

My sister thought they should send someone after me, lest I be kidnapped.

Who would kidnap a nine months pregnant woman, angrily marching along a dirt road beside a lake?

Jay said no.  Let her be.

Oh. My. God.

At work, all the time, people tell me how calm I seem.

Really?

I chew gum when I'm nervous. Some nights I drive home with jaws that actually ache.  I teased the others that maybe I should take up smoking.

Alicia would be this.  Calm appearing.

She thanked Kari. (THANKED HER)  Thanked her for keeping him safe.

"Nice if we'd have known that, however," I added.

The child is fine.  Always was.   Praise God.  

Good thing your hair is blonde, Alicia. Then when it turns bright white, it'll seem more subtle.

b.g., we are so glad you're safe.

love, Grandma and Grandpa and everybody

the genes we share

Tonight I was at school conferences with James.

We were not in bathing suits. It's become cold! We had on sweaters.

We met his teachers. They all are personable and positive, in general and also specifically about James and the classes.

This is all good. I talked to a couple of Maria's teachers too, and they were equally happy to discuss that girl and her education.

The French teacher is sweet, has both of them in different classes, and is as elegant as a French teacher would be.

They asked about the grown kids. The phy. ed. teacher wanted to hear about Kirsten. Ms. Berg asked about John, who has been gone from that place for at least twelve years now.

Anyway, as James and I were standing around waiting, I mentioned to him how these occasions amuse me--looking at how much people look like their kids, how the families go together.

The distinctive arched nose, the full, pointy lips, the stride--recognizable generation next.

At preschool years ago there was a mom and daughter duo who looked so alike--fair skin and dark hair, distinctive dark eyebrows, freckles, sparkly denim blue eyes.

I mentioned this to the mom as the kid played off to the side, and she said, "People say this to us all the time. The freaky thing is that we went through adoption process. She and I are not genetically related at all. I take it as an extra sign we were meant to be."

No doubt.

But as it is, these guys are genetically related.

This is the So Serious picture Alicia mentioned. I have no idea why he's so sober. Nothing has gone wrong, everything is same as ever, okay.


And this is the picture of Dan at age 7. This picture has a story.

Of course.


John got a guinea pig for his birthday that year, and named him Nibbles.

Dan's birthday was in August, and we kept our eye on a lovely guinea pig until closer to his birthday.

We brought him home, named him Rusty, and he died within days.

We don't know why. Nothing happened to him, that we know of. Later we wondered if Nibbles was preventing Rusty from getting to the water, but we'll really never know.

While I was getting ready that morning, Dan was in the hallway, with his scratchy, chirpy voice, "Rusty just won't wake up."

I was a kid then too about 25? I thought, "Oh, Dear GOD, help me get through this without screaming."

I told him to bring Rusty so we could see. Dan had him cuddled on his chest, and as soon as I put my hand on Rusty, I knew.

It's a sad thing to tell a child. He was surprised, and baffled, and sad.

We had a respectful burial on the hill.

The next week we went to the pet store with the story, and chose another guinea pig and I insisted on an entirely separate cage. The guy tried to convince me that two male guinea pigs could live in love and peace, man.

I listened for a few minutes and then said, "Are you trying to prevent me from buying this cage?"

He said no. I paid him the $68.

So we came home with this guinea pig, and an entirely separate housing arrangement, one that would not lead to death.

Dan named him Marty, probably after Marty McFly from Back to the Future, which John played incessantly by VCR back then.

So.

We have your Dan. With the Marty on his chest.

And a face full of ambivalence.

Marty had an amazing plume and was a fairly cool guy who lived for many years. Our attachment grew, but on this day, it was a little uncertain.

Marty had personality--the way he slammed his water bottle around in the dark, his wild red hair. He was okay.

All right. Look at this picture if you want, and tell us which parent b.g. resembles more. I love those random combinations of traits, familiar and different every time. love you all so, Mom

tomorrow is August 15th

Gotta warm up the fryer if we're going to have shrimp or cheese curds.

Here's a fierce uncle and his nephew, each with a big stick--no idea what they're doing.

Okay, cinnamon roll, which t.c. asked for when we had him with us at the grocery store, OR apple bread, which Big Jay picked out? (He may have eaten so fast he couldn't tell.)

Them spinning in the swivel rocker after eating a bunch of frosted pastry.


Aww, my Sweetie.

Here's James and r.t. tubing together.


And the kids helping our patient neighbor shuck corn.

Four buddies in a row--

Art.

Grandpa, Grandma, Sweetie.

Okay, at an upside down angle--


r.t. bought this pogo stick for $4 at a garage sale and brought it along.

"Get off the phone and watch for cars!"

Okay, this is a picture of bedtime.

And a bright, gorgeous morning--

Which stretched into a gorgeous afternoon. Late in the afternoon, Sam was so tired she jumped up onto the seat next to me in the pontoon boat, put her enormous head in my lap and fell asleep. I wondered how long she could swim for if left to herself, how long? Five hours, and then she was in my lap, asleep.

Okay, onward. Tomorrow is Monday, and the 15th of August, officially halfway through this precious month. How could that BE?

Oh, must not waste a second.

And tonight, Julia was in a rush, watching a movie when I called her to take a bath. When I went down the hall to wash her hair she was gone, back to her movie, and I called to her to come back. Her hair was not washed!

"I washed it myself, Mom!"

!!!!

Wow, I've been shampooing kids for over 30 years now. Maybe I've done worked myself out of a job--not sure how I feel about that--the last child no longer needing me to suds and rinse the hair? I haven't helped Tim now in years, true.

Sigh.

love, Val

moments

Yeah, what about moments?

Some are worth remembering.

Like this. This is a picture Renee took of my Sweetie and me. She took it in a moment with her phone, and I laughed, expecting it to be a hideous picture--my hair looking like a rat's nest, no make up, bad light.


But it's a gorgeous picture--the storm clouds, and the Sweetie l.c., and it's perfect.

This guy gets babysat here pretty often, and he has his moments. Last week, Alicia offered him some frozen blueberries before she left, and who knows why, but he slapped them right out of her hand!


Blueberries flew across the floor, under the rocking chair, all over the place. Alicia and I crawled around picking them up, and you know, it's hard not to laugh. The kid is so cute, and what the heck?

Belatedly, she thought she should at least reprimand him, so she plunked him in the big chair and in the most Alicia-stern voice she could muster said, "No, no!" He looked at us, big open baby gaze.

I told Alicia, "Back when James was little and he'd do bizarre things, Kirsten told me sometimes he had little spells of badness."

Alicia laughed, "Yeah, that was a spell of badness."

But he's usually not bad, and even when he is, mostly I laugh.

Except when he has the toilet brush. Then I holler and chase after him. Why that sends me around the bend, I do not know, but play with anything else in the damned house, except not that.

And not the big scissor either. I'm about as big a fan of that as the toilet brush.

Today we stopped over at my mother's in the morning for a little while. He likes it at my parents', runs to the toys. When it was time to leave, he had a little matchbox digger in his hand, and I said we should leave it for next time.

My mom said, "No, take it. Who would ever miss it or care? He can have it."

Then she paused, "Well, I play with it every night, but I'll try to get past it."

Oh, mama.

(I had an image of her playing matchbox cars while watching American Idol, and it has me snickering again now.)

When Dan left with him tonight, he was in the backseat, still playing with the digger, and I waved good bye and blew him a kiss.

He blew me a kiss back.

Okay, seriously.

He napped in my arms in the afternoon, and now he's blowing kisses?


How much can a heart take?

I love you little boys. love, Grandma

the hottest week ever

These three cute people came with their parents to stay for the week:





They caught toads.




The heat was hazy and damp.


There was a Katy Perry dance party in the kitchen.


And more swimming:



And dodging the rain:


They teamed up for one-card poker,


And were the most uncomplaining good sports ever on some very hot days.


Thanks for coming to my house, you guys. love you so, Val