put some colors on
June 28, 2009 | Filed Under lists, ordinary | 6 Comments
oh, june, lost in days, you are, you were. july comes, the summer in a full swinging spangled banner of stars and fire and picnics in the grass. june, left behind. i did love you, i really did, just so you know, even though i didn’t tell you before. maybe in your last days you will be more forgiving than you were in your youth.
things of june
bolting the windows shut, covering them with curtains, and turning on the fast spin of the air conditioner.
shorter hair, but not too short.
popsicle splendor.
swimming + sunburn.
plans to move! to a bigger yard + garden + quiet street (august first, oh my!).
old claw foot bathtub brought from the house of erin + cory to our backyard. another project that sits in an inconvenient place, uncomfortably watching me buzz about doing other things. but it will be really amazing when i paint it. and put it back together. and coerce ernie to move it into the house. and put pillows in it. and pretend it’s a boat or a bed or a giant bowl of soup. it will, i promise, ernie. it will.
dropped + made many cracks in my iphone, which amazingly still works after one comatose week.
being informed that i love spinach more than most people do, loving it much, much more than the members of this household do.
should probably take spinach information and heed its warning, but really, just cannot.
attempting to pull off the wearing of leggings + skirts. possible success.
a to zach: new blog of an old friend. love it!
lots of mobiles, people. lots of them. thank you!
deposit by lola of pennies into wii, which rendered it unconscious until further notice.
vbs in all its glory.
fevers.
laughing a lot at the negative comments regarding this nursery + animal mobile i made (do you think it’s spooky?).
fathers day +fatherly t-shirts + celebration of wonderful father.
thinking a lot about these wonderful things.
perfect sweet iced tea, if i do say so my very self.
ernie’s tumblr rediscovered. you should discover it, too.
golden loom
June 17, 2009 | Filed Under extraordinary | 1 Comment
gray, green, the sky, the yellow of sun exploding somewhere behind a black cloud, glittering gold suspended in slow strands above, beyond, so far behind the dark afternoon that it almost does not exist.
it rains every day now, sometime after lunch, or a morning slap patter against the window. the world is green, the tree in the back, green, the clover so green you want to be lost in it. lost in clover. the world is gray, the sky a black furrowed brow that frowns on the green of the branches that do not cower, the stems of them that still reach and sway and stretch for that sun that they know still glimmers beyond the orb of earth, the puddle of clouds, the atmospheric twists of water and air.
the thunder comes in claps and exclamation points. explode! it shouts, a deep laugh from the stomach after. before, a flicker of white light, quiet and blue and white, an arthritic flash, then the count, then the clap, then the laugh. over and over they flash, count, clap, laugh. coy yet predictable.
the rain, the wind follows. a strange dark wind big and bellowing followed us. we sat in the grass and ducked our heads. we couldn’t hear, the words from our mouths pulling outward on tornadic threads and disappearing in the white. two pines, tall, languorous, uproot and fall and we cannot hear them. slow, everything seems, slow like dust in light, everything shifts in slow, bright frames. we drive and raindrops hit the car like watery fists.
manifesto of like
June 16, 2009 | Filed Under inspired, ordinary | 2 Comments
i like the dishwasher with the dishes in a line and shiny, the colors a surprise as they sparkle in the light.
i like the morning, the early morning cold that sends all of us burrowing under covers.
i like dirty summer feet that need baths at night before bed.
i like finding mushrooms when we walk together.
i like banangrams.
i like watching my husband’s face when he is sleeping.
i like tan shoulders.
i like blueberries and all they can do.
i like taking deep breaths.
i like questions about God.
i like white sheets smooth on the bed.
i like running away.
i like carrying a giant bag full of stuff wherever i go.
i like swimming.
i like pigtails.
i like BLTs.
i like dr. scholls.
i like raindrops on the flowering bushes and the shimmer in the morning sun.
i like slow sipping.
i like happy play.
i like liking.
berthday
June 8, 2009 | Filed Under extraordinary, familial | 1 Comment
this week between birthdays, the birthday of henry, the birthday of jude, is always a busy week, busy from the beginning. jude was born five weeks early, henry barely two, barely talking, barely a curl on his head. jude was white and pinkish and was very beautiful. i thought he would be a girl and am glad he was not. it’s nice to have brothers back to back, friends most days, and brothers close forever.
we were worried about you, jude. you were little and you were early and people were rushing around in the room with the whitest shiniest tiles i’ve ever seen. the special doctor came just for you and you were fine. perfect. i was so happy when you were born. i was happy even though you were born by c-section. i was happy because i didn’t need to be worried. i was happy because you were so beautiful and perfect and so very tiny. they gave you a sweet little knitted white hat to wear and i never thought i could be so happy to hold such a wonderful little thing in my arms.
for jude’s birthday we celebrated early (more pictures from this day can be seen here!) as ernie was shooting a wedding on the actual day. grammy and judson came to town and big daddy had a birthday (80!), too, the day after jude’s. so we all ate curry and walked the zoo together. we got the howler monkeys to howl. they only do this if you clap and cheer and make howling sounds for them. you have to do this for a good five minutes and then they will swing in the cage and bellow at each other. no one ever wants to make them howl with me. it’s embarrassing to stand there clapping and cheering for so long when no one knows why you are doing such a ridiculous thing. i am only mildly embarrassed. it’s worth it in the end, as are many things that make you look foolish for a time. after the zoo we went home for cake. i didn’t put a monster truck into the cake this year as last year jude was very offended by my doing just that. he reminded me several times this year to “only put candles in the cake, don’t stick any toys or anything else in there.” he is very particular. sometimes this is annoying. many times it is annoying. mostly i try to remind myself that attention to detail is something good and right. sometimes the details to which he has paid attention amaze us. his memory alone is astounding and i should, of course, for the sheer sake of his memory alone, stop myself from being unkind more often than i do. knee jerk reactions and all that, you know.
saturday, jude’s actual birthday, we went to ernie’s aunt’s house far and away and then even farther away until you think that you can’t go any farther and then a little bit farther away, then around a corner and up and down a few hills and a farther and farther and farther away until everyone in the car has asked their allotment of “are we there yets.” in the woods, they live. with a creek in which we had anticipated wading. it was not to be. too much rain and the thing was rushing away, the loud screams of it heard from the top of the hill as we got out of the car. henry ran off with the big boys (!) and i only worried a little bit. they walked through poison ivy (didn’t get any, though. amazing!) and played in milder water, though had i been there i might have said no way! there were many orange puddles and this made jude happy. it also made his sneakers too wet to enjoy wearing so he took them off. and then he came home with scratches on the bottoms of his feet and had a hard time finding shoes, even flip flops, to wear on sunday that didn’t hurt. but it was worth it, as painful things sometimes are.
tonight, jude is sleeping by the fan. he has a sunburn on his shoulders that hurts and he was sad until he fell asleep to alex giving answers and the rest of us shouting questions at the tv. he is taller than ever, long legs, skinny torso and arms. his hair needs a cut, a trim, the curls in his face, the back fluffy and weird. today he watched the neighbors we don’t know splashing in their pool and then played with the hose until it just had to be turned off. he is a light in the house, funny jokes and an undercurrent of energy that is hard to match. he is sensitive and smart and without him, what would we do? we do not know, nor wish to know.
jude, i love you more than you can ever know. i love your freckles, each one multiplying as the summer begins, continues. i love your smile, your silly faces, but especially your smile that starts and spreads across your face and makes me smile and laugh a little myself. i love your hugs, the real hugs that you give that lean all of your weight into my body. thank you for being you, for being one of the most important people i know or ever will know or ever will care to know. how did you happen to me?
thank you God, for jude. thank you for his ready smile, for his infinite imagination. thank you for making him sensitive and loving and smart. thank you for letting me be his mother, of all the women in the world, you entrusted him to me! show him how much you love him. help him understand the gift of your grace and mercy that is deeper and greater than he can ever know.
rockets
June 6, 2009 | Filed Under extraordinary | 2 Comments
you, there. you, the someone who shoots fireworks, the cheap kind that are only fun during ignition. i can hear you, the men and their beer laughing somewhere not far. the street is quiet, the house is quiet. everything is quiet except for the laughing, the cheap fireworks. i can’t see the glow of your faces in chairs in a driveway. i can’t see the boy running backwards with the matches. i can’t see the scar of black rocket flame on the pavement. but they are all there. is there a woman, quiet and watching? is there a child making an arc in the air with a sparkler, running too close to the explosions?
it’s early for fireworks yet. july fourth, after picnics and cookouts and the public thunder of pyrotechnic magic dusting the sky, this is a time for your fireworks in the driveway, smattering of glitter in your backyard sky.
weddings, feasts, the girls wearing curls, their dresses of green, pink, white a swirl and swish in the rooms, the boys with their jackets off, shoes, faces, shining; these things: the music, the smiling, after it all, when the lovers drive away, this is a time for displays of fire in the sky. road stand fireflowers for sale! you can stop at the the white tent, stop there and buy them, boxes of them in red and yellow, buy them for the wedding and walk proudly to your car. you can launch them in the parking lot as the cans and shoes from the back of the car bounce and patter away. just married! the explosion will say, shout to the stars. firecrackers for love.
early in the summer, late in the summer nights, nights when the people in their houses are sleeping with windows open, nights without rain, nights before july, nights after july, nights in black and quiet, these nights, these nights for crickets, the rustle of bird in nest, these are not nights for you, men with beer, woman, barefoot child sparkling your name in the bruise of sky, these are not nights for your rockets from bottle, your cracks of fire, your glowing laughter in the dark.
happy returns
June 1, 2009 | Filed Under extraordinary, familial | 1 Comment
more internet issues in our house. blast it all!
today i did many loads of laundry and spent most of the day cleaning the house, feeding people, and reading to everyone, mostly to lola, who is very insistent that she be read many books throughout the day. the house smells like fabric softener.
henry turned seven last week. seven! every day i find him more amazing. sometimes i look at him and can’t believe that i am the mother just for him, that he is the seven year old just for me. for his birthay we went for breakfast and to see UP which actually managed to make me cry. not just feel teary or even tear up, but literally cry, tears on the face, the cheeks, the edge of my jawline. those pixar storytellers sure know a thing or two. we saw the movie in 3d, which is perfectly awkward for all little people wearing glasses. and even for the big people as i had to wear mine over my regular glasses, which sort of look a bit like 3d glasses themselves, so awkward is the word for certain. more pics of his small, family birthday celebration can be seen here, sans mollie-being-awkward-in-glasses.
tonight henry sleeps in his bed with the fan blowing towards him, the ghost night light shining blue all around him, his curling head in a mess on his pillow. he dreams. what does he dream? maybe he will tell me tomorrow. he is long and tall and strong. he has eyes that were blue in the beginning, dark watery blue, but have since turned green, sparkly, a fleck of yellow in the center. he is smart and witty and very tidy about things he wants to be tidy about. he is starting to feel aware of what people think when they look at him, which is a little bit sad, (”i look stupid in this!”) but is interesting to watch all the same. i try to tell him that mommy and poppy are really cool and would never make him wear anything that wasn’t cool but he does not buy it. harumph.
henry, you are loving and kind. you are creative and interesting and have the best imagination i know. having you around makes me happy. i enjoy being with you and jude and lola and poppy more than any other people in this whole wide green world. when you were born i couldn’t believe that i had you, this son, this tiny one with big hands and eyes. i still can’t believe it, really. how did you happen to me?
thank you God for henry, for his smile, his love. thank you for making him strong and smart and compassionate. thank you for letting me know him as his mother. show him your love and your grace. help him to know that you are always there, that you love him, that you care for him and watch over him.