Happy Birthday Boyo!!!!

Grendel is 20 today- imagine. It seems like just yesterday he was little, now he is taller than me, probably smarter than me, forging ahead on his own path. I remember when he was tiny how he loved dinosaurs, numbers, his bear blankie and green dino.... covered his wall in numbers, snuck cereal in the middle of the night, has always been a night person not a day person, has always loved doggs, tv, computers..... learned to type before learning how to write. (and it shows! typing skills = excellent, handwriting = 'creative') ... when we moved to the island he loved the sea, swimming, endless friends over during the summer (house was always full of kids) playing flashlight tag all over the neighborhood, switching weeks back and forth between kyles house and ours. Pokemon everything, his own cabinet of 'Grendel's food' that I was forbidden from, midnight trips to the beach when he was older, friends all slipping out in the night to run wild, coming back with sandy boxers, suspicious paint marks and one pilfered plastic owl. Always good, jut bad enough around the edges to be reassuring. At the cottage it is different- not so much going out as staying in, friends over, up all night laughing and playing games and being... friends. Even when it wakes me up, I love hearing the sound of his laugh, knowing that he is happy and safe and having fun. He is a good kid, and I am lucky.

We are up at the games, thousands of people. The boys listen to music, walk around. He is all kilt and hair, it's like a banner glowing against the sky and trees, it blows around and the girls watch it. He has been talking about cutting it, and that day will come, but today is stamped in my heart- him young and free and glorious against the sky. Old enough to venture forth, young enough to look back for reassurance. I love you boy.

In the Highlands

I am up in the mountains for the highland games and boy's birthday, staying at Melissa's.... I'm using her mac computer (we can't remember the system password to log onto the wireless) and I can't figure out pictures on it.. I'd ask but she is busy getting coffee made for the day.. Last night was cold, foggy, rainy but doable- we camped in the Lee's McCray tent, then headed home about 10. Bear run to the top of the mountain, the introductory music by the local pipe band, the pipeband camp massed band, then the torches and the gathering of the clan. (each clan runs up with a flaming torch in the dark, says a little something- some serious, some funny and clan McIntyre was a bit into their cups so all they did was laugh... the torches are set into this pyramid bonfire frame, very cool in the fog and the dark).

We came home to Melissa's- doggs were glad to see us, especially Max who really wished I brought his pink ski coat after all. They are having big-fun-dogg parties- bear is so much bigger than bella- then they got to sleep in the living room with the boys (Grendel, Kyle, Aaron)...huge tangle of boys-n-doggs. Happiness all around.

Wish the manz was here to see all the flowers blooming- the mountain flowers are different, chicory and laurel, huge lantanas, turks-cap lillies. All along the roadways is a wild tangle. Up on the parkway last night we saw a deer- standing right beside the road, in a gravel pull-out, playing with rocks (looked like she was eating rocks, but apparently there must of been something tasty on the rocks).

Long day today- we want to be up on the mountain soon to get a spot for the concerts, have coffee and firehouse biscuits, talk and draw and listen to music all day long and into the night- shan't be home till very late.

Brain Drain

This is your brain. Well, not *your* brain but a brain... well, actually a brain-based design for this class I am taking. This class that is happily kicking my ass it is so hard (whine, whine, play me a small violin).

This class is on neurobiology, basically the study of how the brain physically receives information, deciphers it and codes it into visual structures. In other words, seeing art as a biological process. It's anatomy and physiology and psychology and mad hard but interesting. But it is in summer and everything is at light speed and there is heaps of work to do each day- and it's all complicated. (I love science, biology and medicine so I am not quite as overwhelmed as some... who claim to be just sitting at their computers crying....)

Anyhoo, rarely is a class this challenging. I am enjoying it but I have to work at it, and she isn't a grade poster so I have no idea how I am doing, though the comments on my pre-paper research and drawings have been positive. (hey, any excuse to whip out my impressive knowledge about genetic engineering and mCherry mice... everyone just kinda stops thinking critically when faced with a sweet little mouse that glows pink...)

So, tonight I have to finish my anatomical drawings (fun), get re-packed for Grendel's annual birthday trip (I haven't unpacked from Texas yet, so it is mostly a matter of shifting stuff from one bag into the other, and adding some sweaters), and spend time with my most beloved man- who is on the FRONT PAGE (half a page!) of the paper with the Turkey Whisperer story. Something of a local celebrity, I know the ladies will be knocking the door down while I'm away- can't have that now, can we? Dr. Girlfriend cannot be thwarted by the floozies of Wallace...this Turkey Whisperer is taken!

Floored!

I am home safe after all my Texas travels- I love everyone, but there is really no place like home. And decidedly no one like the manz, no kid like the boy, no doggs like my big-happy-chasing yard monsters at 3am doggs. Kisses all around!

The manz has been busy while I was gone- along with working and keeping boy/doggs fed and happy (Kyle to upon occasion), he fixed and refloored the studio. Right before I left Bear had put her paw through the floor (combination of big bad bear and not-so-great floor). Well, all that is fixed structurally (good because I am slightly heavier than Bear...slightly), the wood is laid, stained and polyed within an inch of looking like water. (Actually, it does look like water). The color is warm and gold with just a touch of red, the shine and smoothness is incredible. He is painting and placing the foot molding, reworked the new huge bookcase to fit on the walls at sill level...right now he is painting it white (I loooove white) and I'll get to putting stuff away.

What I really wanted to do today is play with the house and the yarden, hug on the man (we shipped the boy off to Kyle's last night so we can have 'alone time') but instead I did trip-laundry and a really-long art history test. Test made longer by internet going down for a few hours and general lack of ability to focus on art pottery, which I personally think is rather fugly. (but I did get to write about Morris design and sewing machines, which was fun!) And answer questions. I like to answer questions, it makes me feel smart.

Anyhoo, the homework is done, dinner is about cooked and the floor is a sight to behold. More importantly I am home to my beloved, who has developed the ability to charm butterflies.

Dear Ridge

Our last day in Texas, at Dear Ridge... we are watching Harper's Island, telling gravity hill stories and waiting for fireworks. Yesterday I got here- all sunshine and Texas heat, playing with the twins, lounging in the hot tub. Today more twins (super cuteness... they like my hair, think it tickles), off to get kolachies (can't spell it, but sure can eat them) and to the art galleries in Clifton...we saw a community theatre play- The Queen of Bingo- which was fun. Then back to the Ridge for more babies, pizza and getting ready to launch tomorrow at the 'crack of dawn'.

I could play outside in the woods here forever, they are so different from ours. Giant clusters of prickly pears, twisted cedars, mesquite (I suppose it is... looks like it, smells like it). The ground is so dry it cracks in places, and the rocks are full of fossils. Not just little things, but huge spirals, full snails, mysterious leaves... even a sea urchin. Strange bones found in dry stream beds, bone turned to rock long ago. Land a living memory.

I only found a bit of a fossil, but collected many tiny snail shells bleached white by the sun, a few fragrant sticks of cedar to turn into something. There are great logs and roots among the trees, wish I had Esmeralda here to drag some of them home (Esme is probably quite happy that she is not here in the heat hauling things. I don't think she'd care for that at all)

I love being at Dear Ridge, it's like living in the woods, in a tree- all wood and west and stone, part of the landscape. There is creeping rosemary around the flagstones, a red yucca (my new favorite western flower) and the plastic catci among the real ones. Bright pottery, a bowl of fossils, antlers twisted into a chandelier. Deer at the feeder in the evening, foxes, raccoons, opossums, wild hogs, tiny bright hummingbirds. I want to return to play in the woods, hunt fossils, talk and drift in the tub.

It's time to go home, and I miss my home. I can't wait to see my beloved manz, fuss over the boy, fluff up the doggs. Be back in my world of butterflies and Mexican coffee, constant laughing and someone special to hold on to...

Small Things

It is the small things that make life so precious- these are some small things on the shelf in the kitchen, small but precious. The bird I remember from long ago, not sure where she acquired it, but it's beak opens and it is a tiny container. Bright gold with blue eyes...the rabbit was a gift from Grendel long ago, carved out of wood. Today it reminds me of my favorite rabbit, who I miss lots. The apple is clear and large, catches the light and glows. As long as I can remember Mother collected glass apples- Barbie has the majority of the original collection, but the collection is being rebuilt. (Hold on, going to count- I'm getting a quick count of 26, but they are not all glass- there are a few others. The majority are glass though-)

Thing is about these small things is not what they are, or how they look, or what their value may or may not be... thing is that they carry their own magic to call up the past, stories and experiences and thoughts always to be remembered. The bird reminds me of Mother getting dressed up to go out with Daddy one night- I don't remember why I link the bird to this, but it would of been long ago. Mother's pant suit was peacock blue, her hair red and she had a scarf that was brightly colored...red lipstick. I can smell the perfume, picture her clipping on her earrings. Elegant and excited and beautiful. The apple reminds me off all the apple hunts in dusty antique stores, flea markets, gift shops, glass factories... the excitement of finding an apple, or saving one up, hiding it away until a suitable holiday. The apples displayed in the windows where they caught the sun, or in the old glass-fronted display case. Each with a story, a memory attached. I don't remember much about the bunny except I think Grendel found it in our travels... it is light and white wood and friendly. The bunny and the bird together seem to be talking, and that reminds me of playing at the ladybug house at Headacher.

Long ago, when I was very little, Mother would take me out to the cow field at Headacher. There was a huge flat rock with curious depressions worn by water... little pebbles and flowers all around. That was my ladybug house, and we would arrange pebbles for furniture, decorate with flowers, wait for the ladybug to 'flyaway home'. I felt safe because a stone house could never burn or tumble down (I worried about the song... ladybug, ladybug, fly away home, your house is on fire and your children will burn... rather grim? wonder where it originated from) anyway, we had splendid times out in that pasture. Mother's gift of imagination is priceless.

Today is my last full day with Mother- we are going shopping for a clock and a 'special' dress (watch out Charles! I will be so gussied up that you shan't recognize me!) then home for pizza. I have enjoyed my stay - the time flies by so quickly (yet it seems years since I have been home, and admit to being a touch homesick. I miss the Manz and the boy and the doggs...even though they were bad, bad doggs last night) but this time is priceless and precious and I am so grateful to have it. I love you Mum!

Better Safe than Sorry!

One of Mother's guiding principles is 'better safe than sorry' and that applies to everything. The hall way door is blocked by a roll thing (keeps the bugs out), everything not used is wrapped in plastic, labeled and stored, extra everything is stocked in the cabinets. Duct tape covers door latches to prevent you from being locked out on the patio (good idea!), sticky address labels are on anything that might go astray, bananas are eaten everyday to ward off all sorts of ills.

Sensible, safe, sound. But- there is the fridge. Bananas below, everything in the freezer is wrapped (sometimes double wrapped) in plastic (to keep out the 'gasses'...do refrigerator's still have gasses? I have no clue how they work- it's just magic) Not just tucked around, but twisted, tied, reversed- the wrapping of the icecream is a true art form. It is obvious by the front package that I did not do it correctly as it is already becoming undone....

As I said yesterday, it is near impossible to sneak a bite of icecream (or anything). It involves much puzzling over how to unwrap the desired object, then craftily trying to rewrap the object, Now, I know I can have icecream when ever I want- Mother begrudges me nothing- but *everyone* knows that icecream snuck by the spoonful doesn't have calories where icecream in a proper bowl has zillions of calories. It's a simple fact.

In our house, it's another simple fact that a) icecream doesn't last more than two days b) boys would wildly tear their way into the package if in a moment of extreme desire and c) so would I.....

Is funny because as soon as Grendel was old enough to think about sex, I always told him (and all my other kids) to remember to 'wrap their packages'... suppose that is a holdover from Mother's wrapping habits... but still and all, better safe than sorry!