like i said, by myself

May 10, 2007 | Filed Under ordinary 

it’s hot this afternoon. jude is white and pink, transluscent in the beams of the sun. it’s too hot to play outside without the administration of water. a problem with water is the mess it makes in red clay, the smear of it everywhere, unapologetic, and completely unwilling to rinse clean. another problem is the teasing way in which the boys play with water, dumping it on heads, spraying it cold down pants, quietly and precisely pointing the nozzle at the screens of the house. so we stay inside, the laundry bleaching in the sunlight, the dog panting in the shade and rolling in the dirt until he is red and dusty and dog himself.

instead, henry learns to tear duct tape properly and they tape themselves all over, elephants, masked men, wounded animals. i fold laundry in stacks that stairstep on the rug and jude does not resist the urge to plow through them with his feet.

yesterday i decided to sew on something every day. i love to sew when everything is tidy, easy to find, the ironing board in a place convenient, the sewing machine on a clean tabletop. my sewing mess is in piles and corners of the pollinated sunporch, blocked by ernie’s record collection, miscellaneous studio stuff, a temporary pile of gracen’s worldly goods. i feel frustrated when scissors and elastic and straight pins are not easily accessible. disorder and all, i started yesterday anyway, finishing pants that i started to make last summer. it is very satisfying to finish a project, to make the pile of things to complete dwindle. today i work at the last few christmas gifts that we are woefully and embarrassingly behind in delivering. the move, the disorder, the miserable state of pennilessness, all of it contributed. it’s may and i am hopeful. i think that some who get gifts this late don’t care and understand, others can’t see past the expectation of a timely christmas gift and are annoyed at best. so it is. we can only hope to do better next time, and possibly actually do so.

i’ve also been playing the piano more often than usual, simple satie that whispers in white undertones while the kids lay track in the next room. i play and henry, sitting in the doorway, says, “you’re so beautiful,” his opinion most likely sweetened, granulated by the refined sugar in cookie form recently given to him by his flattered, beautiful mother.

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