We spent a lovely lazy morning yesterday. Cozied up and watching out the window at this...

After the floodgates closed back up again, UPS appeared on a shaft of sunlight. Not quite that literally, but close. I came downstairs from painting shelves to find a couple of amazon.com boxes on my doorstep and inside were these:

A totally unexpected treat from my dad. We'd been talking about these movies a lot lately (can you say, "sequel"?), and I knew he'd ordered them for himself, but never, in a million years did I expect them to appear on my doorstep. What fun. And Alfie, thank you SO much.

Then, when I was getting ready to take Callum and neighbor-Rebecca out to dinner, I walked past my dresser and there sat these:

A totally unexpected treat from my husband. I am abysmally difficult to surprise. I hate this about myself. I'll be trucking along, minding my own business, maybe working on a project or driving in the car and suddenly, I'll think, "Oh! I know what Neel got me for Christmas." I'll try to pull that errant and devious thought back, or talk myself out of it, because, really, I love a good surprise. Today I got two. The earrings are blue topaz, and Neel says they're meant to remind me of Greece. Thank you so much my lovely. I *heart* you too...XOXO

Up until this weekend, it has been a dry, dry summer. Suddenly, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, we've had storms and rain. More are expected today. I feel as unsettled as the weather. Restless and lazy all at the same time. We made eager, if tentative plans with friends over the weekend ("It's been too long! We miss you guys.") and let them flit away. Even the neighborhood was socked in. Waiting out the oppressive days.

Mandy-the-corgi went home, as expected, with her first applicant after a frustrating day trying to contact the SPCA. We weren't too disappointed, and I hope she had a nice weekend in her new home. I've wanted a corgi since I was in college and meeting Mandy renewed that interest. There were some pups listed in the paper, but about 2 hours away, and we just couldn't muster the energy. For someone who struggles mightily with impatience and a need to have things ordered just the way I need them, RIGHT NOW, I'm remaining remarkably relaxed and sanguine about this hunt for pup number two. Our dog is out there...we just haven't met her yet. And really, being so remarkably relaxed and sanguine is a new experience for me...I'd like to keep it around.

The SPCA frustrations of Friday were brightened by the arrival of this little package from Laura Kim Jewelry

Look what was inside! I took advantage of a sale she had last week, and I feel oh-so-lucky! I put on Pod #2 (the one on the right) almost immediately. All I need is someone to take me out to dinner to test-drive Maris (on the left). Check out her site...she does some lovely work. Pickins are slim right now as she readies for fall, but I can't wait to see what her next line brings. Shipping was prompt, and as you can see, even the packaging was pretty. Thank you so much, Laura...what a treat.

Remind me never to try to stain a bed when the humidity is over 400%. Seriously. I've made NO progress on that front, just waiting for the first pieces we stained to dry. The bluerainroom is almost shelf heaven, however, as we got the wood for shelves here and in the kitchen. Callum will finish helping me paint those today, and hopefully we'll get them installed this weekend. Progress on the pantry has me a little worried, since Neel has decided he needs to take down some cheap beadboarding and...wait for it...paint before we can put up that shelf. I'll keep you posted.

In knitterly news, the back of Jospehine is finished, I'm almost done with sock #1 of a pair basic two-circulars socks. Both of those knits are in a pretty fine gauge on pretty small needles (ones for the socks and fives for the sweater), so what better to do in the muggiest part of July but to cast on for this scarf on (marginally) larger #8s. I'm using Knitpicks Andean silk in olive, which I have much of...

Every night this weekend we saw this...

...and glory be...is that really rain? Even with Callum complaining that we never get to go to the beach because it always rains, we're soak, soak, soaking it up. Everything seems a little greener, a little more alive. Hopefully it will translate to the humans. I could use some perking up.

...it's not as if I don't have plenty to say. Those of you who know me in "Real Life" know that I always have plenty to say. Mostly it's that I don't really have the time to craft something to say. Today. So I downloaded the few pictures I took over the weekend, and, loosely connected, here they are.

Here's the sky before a storm we had a few nights ago. The world turned yellow at first, which was a bit concerning, but aside from some major lightening and wind, we didn't get much.

Neel trimmed some trees over the weekend, and Callum promptly turned this into a shelter a la Man vs. Wild.

The weather has been of interest around these parts lately. The storms earlier in the week ushered in some days of low humidity and low(er) temps. Nice treat, mid July, I'm telling you! We went to the beach with some friends for dinner last night and were greeted with frothy seas and blustery winds. After the gas ran out on the grill, we (shivering) packed it in and headed home.

The kids had fun though...Callum's showing us how big the waves really were.

Finally, I'm adding a book to the list on the sidebar. If you are mother to a son, are married to a son or are a son I can't recommend this book highly enough. Seriously. Girls need it too. This book teaches everything from making slingshots to playing poker to several poems every boy should know and memorize. Callum loves it and reads it every night before bed. While I was at a doctor's appointment today, Neel and Callum made secret ink (it worked!). I mean it. Go get one.

Sometime after Alfie has gone I'll spend some time here thinking about what summer vacations were like when I was growing up and what it's like to have summer vacation now. Really, we've been too busy going to movies, swimming in the beach, eating our dang fool heads off and watching a lot of this to waste time thinking about things.

After Alfie leaves tomorrow, there will be plenty of time to think about how lucky I am to live in a resort area of this country when a simple boatride up the coast can show me this...

It's the Atlantic Bottlenose Dolphin, in case you were wondering.

As usual, I'm inspired by anything really, that Alicia has to say. Today it was a letter to her friend Martha. Seriously, I think that woman could post her Target list and I'd just sigh, all blissed out and wish my life were more like hers. (My own list says laundry detergent and toilet paper.)

So I commented on Alicia's blog today (see how brave I'm getting..that New Year's resolution is working!) with a quote from Annie Dillard about writing. Here it is:

"One of the few things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something for a better place is the signal to spend it now. Something more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like well water. Similarly, the impulses to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it's destructive. Anything you do not give free and abundantly becomes lost on you. You open your safe and find ashes." Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

I have to say that this blog, humble though it may be, is where I finally do spend it all. I've "been a writer" off and on during my funny little life. Stints as a technical writer here and there, and a fun year or so when Neel was in graduate school when I wrote two and a half novels (I know there are several people out there who will want to ask me about that one, and I can only say...don't.). Even now, a large part of my job is writing, framing my own words or helping others frame theirs. I know I'm pretty good at it, as much as I know that I can be better, always better. And it's funny to me, that in light of this, one of my favorite quotes about writing is not to hoard, but to use, use, use what you've got.

This blog is where I finally do that. (Saying this, as the daughter of the man who just bought six cans of bean soup because his Kroger stopped carrying it and Fresh Market may stop too is really something.) I spend it all. Sure, I have entries running around in my head. I have more, for sure, to say about Greece. Not just the trip, but what it meant to me to be there. I have plenty to say about motherhood. My neighborhood (I have people - okay, Rebecca - asking when our neighborhood is going to be featured here) deserves many a post...I'm just waiting for the right time and circumstances. There's definitely something to say about Lucy-the-hound, and how she made me fall in love with her...

And the whole reason I started this thing was to find a way to chronicle the work I was doing...what happened to all those posts? They're out there, waiting still. But what I love, just really love about this process of blogging is that I trust it and myself to say what I need to say. Sure I need a page of FOs. Sure I need to have notes on my aprons or handbags or socks or jewelry rolls. Sure I want people to see those things and comment on them. Sure I want, as I just said to my dad, a dialogue, not a monologue. But for once, and blissfully so, the stuff I write here is for me. It's meant to meet a need in me. I'm not meant (I don't think) to write a book, and I am meant (I really do believe) to spend this life I have in writing, and more than just letters asking for money(!). So here I go. Spending it all. Come along, let's have some fun.

Necklace roll

The next paragraph in that Annie Dillard quote is this: "After Michangelo died, someone found in his studio a piece of paper on which he had written a note to his apprentice, in the handwriting of his old age, 'Draw Antonio, draw Antonio, draw and do not waste time.'"

Ecelctic Patchwork Apron

This blog is me following that directive. I'm framing my days in words and pictures, and I am so grateful for the way it's making me look, really look at the way I live my life. I was joking with a friend of mine yesterday about how there's always something going on in my funny little brain, and she said, "I know. That's part of why I love you." Well, thanks, but I'm sure it makes me pretty exhausting to be around. Maybe bluerainroom can ease some of that burden on those around me who are always asked to process my latest thoughts or desires. Or maybe I'm just broadening the audience! I'm not sure where it will lead (and like Callum with math, I'm trying to be patient in that place...it makes you very vulnerable), but three months in, at least I'm happy. I'm coming out of the closet. Telling more and more people. I love writing these posts. I love, love, love your comments. Please continue to do so, to give me a dialogue. Come along. Let's have some fun.

I'm a hoarder. It must come from having lived through the depression. Oh wait. I didn't live through the depression. I did have grandparents who said things like, "If we wipe off these paper plates, we can use them again." Or, "Here, let me have that wrapping paper. We can use it next Christmas." So I hoard. I buy things I love and then never use them for fear of running out.

And I love Limonata. Oh how I love it. It reminds me of Schwepps Bitter Lemon (my favorite childhood drink aside from Coke...I am a southern girl after all!) which I can't find at all anymore. When we were in California, I could get it at Beverages and More(!), but no where here. So on to Limonata. We can only get it in the can at Trader Joes (and our nearest one of those is just over 30 minutes away), so when I get it, I hoard it. For a too brief time I was the only one in our family who drank it. Callum didn't like anything "fuzzy" (his word for carbonated drinks), and Neel only drinks wine, coffee, martinis and scotch. So slowly, slowly, I would work my way through the three six packs I'd bring home from TJs every few months. This was a special occasion drink. I'd save it for a nice dinner when I didn't want wine, or a Friday lunch on my own while I watched CSI Miami. Ah, what a treat.

Then something terrible happened. Callum tried my Limonata one day and liked it. What the hell was I thinking?! Now he likes it and wants it. On all occasions. Even ones that aren't special treats. Like a regular every day lunch for crying out loud. For awhile I staved it off by sharing. Half for him and half for me. Then he wanted his own. Upstart. I said no. A lot. Only for special occasions, and lunch, just this plain old boring lunch of tuna salad and mac and cheese is not special enough. My question is this: am I raising him to be a hoarder just like me? Is he doomed to either never use the things he buys (like the Valentine's Day candy corn that I still have stashed in the pantry...not because I didn't like it or because I got tired of it, but because, well, what if I run out? Before the next Valentine's Day?) or to treat every occasion as a special occasion (like lunch on a Friday in front of CSI Miami).

These are some important parenting issues to ponder, but today we just relaxed. I'm calling it the first day of summer vacation because we've been gone and the end of last week was nothing more than recovery. Not that we're not all still recovering. Everyone is on a sleep-til-you-wake-up policy (that means 5:45 a.m. for me and 8:45 a.m. for Neel), and then we stayed in our jammies for a lot of the day. Callum and I had Book Club (he read me some Pooh, and I read him some Lloyd Alexander), and then we decided to make Neel a really nice supper.

It took all day.

The recipe is from Ina (Barefoot Contessa, at Home).

Callum chopped the cucumbers after I cooked the beets.

This part was concerning. Where we added the broth and sour cream and yogurt. And it didn't look at all like borscht.

But we soldiered on, adding the carefully diced cukes and beets, hoping things would start to pink up.

Callum used my favorite kitchen tool ever, my mezzaluna, to chop the dill.

After chilling for several hours, during which we had to check it regularly and stir it a bit, just to make sure the beets were still doing their work, we got this!

We set a nice table.

And what's this? This plate of deliciousness? I got this recipe from NPR. Their "From the Kitchen" segment did an article about cherries and this salad is from that article. Go check their site, but it's pretty simple really. The dressing blends cherries, mint, olive oil, rice wine vinegar, some edemame and salt and pepper. Mix the dressing with a cup of edemame (we used a little more actually, and that worked better), put it in the center of a plate ringed with smoked salmon. YUM.

For all of his hard work, Callum got one of these. First day of summer vacation, a special occasion indeed.

We had a much needed all-day rain on Sunday, and two nights of big storms this week as well. The energy of the earth is shifting toward summer, but with some cool days still hovering, hasn't quite made it yet. We have a day and a half left of school, and as my three or four loyal blog readers know (come on Dad, would it kill you to leave a comment now and then?) on the day after school lets out, our family leaves on a BIG TRIP.

We're winding down and winding up.

I meet with a group of women for coffee and breakfast every Wednesday...well, the group meets each week and I make it there sporadically. I've been part of these women for about three years now, and the core group has been getting together for maybe six years (now maybe I'll get a comment as someone tells me how long it's really been!). Yesterday was our last of the year, and a birthday one to boot, so I really wanted to go. I don't always do my best in groups like this. In larger numbers I tend to retreat more than engage, but oh, imagine my joy when I was first invited to come along. Finally, finally that elusive feeling of belonging (It was a real Sally Field moment for me, I can tell you that much!). Not much has ever filled that junior high school hole in quite the way that these Wednesday morning meetings have.

Being there yesterday reminded me of how groups like this have a life of their own, really. This Wednesday-morning breakfast is its own living entity, has a heartbeat almost independent of the women who sit around the table. People move in and out of this weekly ritual, sometimes the crowd is intimate, sometimes we're pushing four tables together, always we're checking in, sharing stories and making plans. As we got up from the table yesterday, six of us were in the last days of the school year while one still had some days left to go, one of our husbands is about to be deployed, two of our children were "graduating" from the eighth grade, one of us jumps head first into a new job and four of us were getting ready to leave on trips. Safe travels everyone, happy summer.

First grade did their own celebrating yesterday, with a party for the volunteers who've helped out in the room. Neel got an invitation, and I callously barged my way in under the guise of "taking pictures." The kids worked hard on this event, and it was clear how proud and excited they were to open their class to the grown-ups. What a cliche, but where did the year go? Callum's had such an amazing experience at school, and one of my regrets about spiraling out of control this week (that BIG TRIP is looming, you know!), is that I haven't been able to really savor his last days of school. I'm dying to get a picture of him with his teacher, but she's elusive...kind of like a fairy with a distinct Susan Sarandon vibe. She opened up the world of learning for these kids, coated it with a layer of glitter and tossed it up in the air for them to catch. He caught that glowing, crystal ball and took off running with it. What a gift. Safe travels everyone, happy summer.

Back to the land of snores and stolen covers. Callum staked a claim in our bed as soon as Neel got home! It was worth spending the night perched on the edge just to have Papa back.

It's another glorious May morning here. Summer seems to be sweetly slipping up on us. A hot day here and there to remind us of the baking beach days ahead, but cool evenings and mornings. Memorial Day has come and gone, and I guess that means that summer is here.

We had a good weekend. I got some work on Fetching done. One wrister almost down, one to go. This was (and knitting usually is) my morning and evening work. I've been doing some super secret sewing that will be revealed later, and a lot of cooking.

These are the Maple Baked Beans from BC: At Home.

First you assemble the sauce.

Then the bacon and maple syrup go over top. Bake for a million hours (6-8), and you're ready for a cookout.

Sometime when the needs of a weekday morning (making lunches, drinking coffee, taking showers, feeding dogs, pulling out clothes, last minute snuggles, locating karate uniforms, watering lawn...that kind of thing) aren't pressing upon solo-me, I'll tell you about my neighborhood. What a surprise and delight it is.

We started the day like this: Bloody Mary's in the front yard. (I love living in a place where my jammies are not out of place in the front yard on a holiday morning!) And then we gathered for a Memorial Day cookout, and our chief mixologoist brought the Planter's Punch (I'm linking to a recipe, but Tyler's version is more art than science. Still, this should give you the idea.)

There were salads and burgers and brats and babies (we're overflowing with babies!), and oh, browines and rice crispy treats. Perfect picnic fare. After the food there was much lazy hanging about until Callum and his buddy Zach-Man hit the sprinkler.

Zach is a bit trepidatious now, but it's early days yet.

And those beans? They were a hit.

It's re-entry and back to the regular rhythms of the week. Happy day, though, Neel returns tonight!

Me and my crocs, stare into the abyss.

My three or so readers have noted my blogging absence. I have been under a karmic cloud, that's fer damn sure. We'll start with the migraines. Six out of seven days. There's a dad of a kid at Callum's school who gets them too. We have the same triggers, and if Mike leans into me in the hallway between Kindergarten and First Grade to say, "How's your week?" I know exactly what he's talking about. We seem to be on the same pain/trigger cycle. And earlier this week, I got into the back of a friend's car after lunch (see below for more lunchtime karmic woes) and picked up her newly purchased copy of this. Flipping through, I somehow turned to a stunningly beautiful and accurate description of migraine pain. I wish I could copy the text here, but go buy the book. I hear it's even better than The Kite Runner. I love owning books, but I hate buying hard backs, so I'm going to borrow Megan's copy as soon as she's done and buy my own in a few months.

So first the migraines. Then there was the golf tournament that I've been working on with some parent volunteers for several months. It rained all day. At the beginning of the tournament, as all the golfers were lined up in their cute little carts (seriously, those carts looked just like the copper and blue version of the Mini Cooper Convertible...might need one of those) it started to pour. Not the scattered showers that were predicted, but one of those all-day soaking rains. I have to say that golfers really impress me. They really will go out there in anything and have fun. It wasn't until several days later as I was thinking back through everything that had been going wrong that I thought of that rain, but from were I stand right now, I feel sure it was my fault.

Then there was the stomach flu. Earlier that week, I'd walked into our Main Building to see a preschooler sitting on the bench by the office with a trash can pulled up next to him. Not a good sign. I suppose you could say it was good karma that I managed to hold off until after the rainy golf tournament, but sitting by the toilet for 5 hours on Friday night, I wasn't really thinking about the up side of the situation. Also on Friday, my computer broke (that's the reason for the inadvertent blogging break). Sunday my cell phone died and all it's chargers threw themselves off a cliff after it in grief. After three attempts, I still can't manage to purchase the correct charger. What do we do when that happens? Buy a new one of course! Seriously, I'm due a new phone and was planning to get it this week, so I went silent on the radar for a few days rather than buy a charger that I'll only use for a little bit.

After that it was the bad lunch karma. On Monday a group of us took a friend out for lunch at the same place we'd had my birthday lunch. Remember the deliciousness? The lovely server who, unprompted, brought us champagne? No such luck this day. Lousy service, obnoxious server. He got our soup wrong and never apologized. What's up with that? And of course, no champagne.

The bad lunch karma continued at this weekly stand-by. This little place of Mexican awesomeness. I seriously love this restaurant. But we had to sit in the hall (never good, like being sent to the kid's table), my normally sublime veggie taco was not at its standard.  It was fine, really, but I am so used to that veggie taco being the best thing I'll eat all week that it was a particular let down. The conversation was not sparkling and it felt more expensive than usual.  Don't worry, I'll consider it a personal duty to try again next week (and to get there a little early), but the karma clearly continued.

Tuesday evening seemed better until I went outside to tell Neel something and must have put my foot down wrong. First goes my ankle. And I think, okay, it's just my foot, I can get back upright. Then suddenly I'm on my knees. Okay, it's just my knees. I can get back upright. And suddenly I'm lying sprawled out on our flagstone path.  I have a bruise on my hip that looks like this.  Only purple and without the shade.  Cheaper though.

Still, things might be looking up.  I sense a shift.  Like a slow clearing in the west.  The problem is that the cloud seems to be hovering near me.  My friend Shoshana was walking out the door yesterday with a birthday cake in hand when her dog ran in front of her, tripping her and slamming the cake into a wall.  (That's some good dog karma, though.)  Oh, and she's a little concerned about identity theft right now too.  The cake was still delicious.  Then Megan was trying to get out of a parking lot yesterday when it got shut down due to a gas leak.  At first no one was allowed to start their cars.  Then a nice firefighter let Megan go ahead and leave (don't worry, she didn't trigger an explosion...it's not that bad around here).  As she was pulling out, she clipped a fire hose and another firefighter ran after her threatening to charge her with a felony.  A felony!  Who knew?

Last night, when I was on a walk with my neighbor Jean, she pointed out that perhaps I should have mentioned all of this on the phone rather than waiting until we were in person, but I'm sure things are going to be fine for her.  (Hi Jean!  I'll be thinking about you guys today with that minor surgical procedure you're heading in for!)

And really, today's the day I can get a new phone, and I think that might just do the trick.  My dad always says that if you leave electronic things alone long enough they'll heal themselves.  I'm not sure exactly how that applies, but I'm just certain that it will.  In the meantime, I think I'll follow the lead of my canine friend here and hibernate until the skies are truly clear.

One of the things that my dad and I do REALLY well together is shop. We've been busy today, and seriously, this is probably just the beginning. We somehow manage to talk each other into the most outlandish purchases. Like this: We'll be putting these together tonight, I suppose.

And like every good grandad, his only grandson (and son-in-law, note the wine glass) isn't left out!

Only 21 days until the new Pirates movie! Happy Friday everyone!

Oh my gosh I have so much to be grateful for. Two birthday lunches in a week. (See? I did manage to pull off that second lunch!) A great spring storm. Some yummy presents.

Hand-sewn napkins from Megan. We've been using them every night and dinner feels so special.

A wine cube and some of her very own earrings from Marianne. This one (the wine) was definitely meant to share. That little thing holds FOUR bottles worth. Not wonder it was so heavy! It might see us through an afternoon at the beach this summer. Maybe.

Not to mention this from Marianne.

Yet again photography skills fail me. Oh lemony loveliness. Oh mousse-heaven. The yellow on top? Lemon curd of course. I wish I had a better picture. I wish you could taste it. Marianne, can you believe we had this for a whole week? It helped that I left it in the freezer at school for a few nights. It also helped that I was so unflinchingly miserly about sharing. Even with myself. Seriously. I almost never cut a full slice, but furtively spooned a sliver off the edge so Neel and Callum wouldn't know. We ate that pie a spoonful at a time. I'm in awe of this dessert. Baking, or being a good baker, much like photography and so many other things seems like magic to me. Maybe it's about skill, but the ability to be a good baker seems more gift than skill, as unattainable to me as brain surgery. And just as mysterious. I think of suitably domestic phrases like, "She had a light hand with the batter..." I don't strike myself as the kind of person who has a light hand with anything, much less mousse. Thank you so much, dear friend, for sharing your gift with me.

But here's the best gift of all:

My dad arrived today for a long-weekend visit. We deliberately didn't tell Callum, and boy was it worth it. His joy and surprise were awesome. A gift in itself.

There are presents for everyone. But the best part is right now. After a great dinner together, knowing that the weekend of fun and laughter stretches before us.

And the pen and notecards at the top? Creme-Brulee Tracy, of course.

We're having our first significant storm of the spring tonight. When I went for my run earlier the sky grew darker and darker as I got further and further from home, but it was so bloody muggy that I still hoped it would dump on me. The clouds darkened all evening, but the rain held off for several hours, waiting until after dark. The wind came first, cooling the air. We've had two hot days and the breeze was a nice change. Then a bit of rain; fat plopping drops. Harbinger. This is a gentle storm. Broad strokes of lightning, taking the evening sky from dove gray to bright, hot lilac. Lucy was outside for that part. Unfazed by the rain and by the sporadic lightning. Neel, a self-proclaimed expert on beagles, claims that storms don't bother them. The way she just bolted under my chair? Well, I beg to differ.

I love nights like this. It's not so warm that we have the house shut up, the air conditioning chilling us. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing sweeter than that cool, conditioned air when summer lolls hot and heavy. But these nights, with the windows open and the sound of the rain and the swish of cars in the street, oh how I love feeling so connected to the air and the night. The storm has moved around us now. When it started, it was north and east of us, the wind and the lightning coming at the back of the house. Now bright bursts of icy blue light up my livingroom windows. It grows stronger as it circles us, the rain more intense.

This (as if any given moment is any different!) is when I feel my limitations keenly. I feel frustrated with this burgeoning photography bug, the need to document with pictures not just words. I am not good at it at all. I yearn to capture that brief clash of color, the sight of the trees silhouetted against the sky. Still, even if I could, would you smell the rain in the air? Or the damp sigh of the grateful earth?

Twenty-eight years ago, can you believe it?  This sculpture is titled The Juggler's Birthday, named, believe it or not, for me.  As I think back, it's the only thing that has ever been named for me.  My dad wanted to do something to represent that stage in a girl's life where she is juggling a childhood of treehouses and stuffed animals with the lure of make-up, clothes and boys.  He and my mom did a good job of juggling me, I think.  It can't be easy to raise a moody girl-child.  There's a nice juxtaposition here, of sculpture, spring and growing up.  This piece was first presented at the annual Dogwood Arts Festival in Knoxville, TN (not to be confused with the "Dog-Fart" festival which runs congruently) which always fell near my birthday in the spring. 

That year, it fell on my birthday exactly and my parents let me take the day off from school.  What a thrill to be free in the sweet Tennessee sunshine...the day goes by so fast when you're not confined by classroom walls.  I wandered from booth to booth, making friends far more easily than I ever could now, and shyly revealing that it was my birthday.  It's funny how kids are about that kind of thing.  I wanted desperately for everyone to know that it was my actual birthday, on that very day, but I didn't want to have to tell anyone.  One man, a potter, gave me a little stone chipmunk, another older man (I don't even remember what his craft was, just his leathery fingers) gave me a dime for ice cream.  Big, big stuff to a little, little girl.

My present to myself on this most-recent birthday (aside from the fabric, the new running shoes and some new clothes) is to start this blog thing finally.  And here I sit, feeling the need to be my most brave as I embark.  Even feeling so self-conscious and knowing (almost hoping) that next year at this time, I'll look back on these early posts and absolutely cringe, I'm ready to go.  So come along with me.  I can't promise to be wise or even witty, but I do hope to be true.

And after all this introspection?  I'm going to paint our stoop and blend some artichoke soup to chill for tomorrow's dinner.  If I can manage to do that without blowing the top off the blender and painting the kitchen "artichoke soup" (doesn't that totally sound like one of those crazy paint-chip names?!), I'll consider the day a reasonable success.