How fucking hysterical is this one? They got to pick out 4 pieces each as long as we ate only one in the shop. We saved the rest for home (and I ended up eating them late at night) but I'm sure if they see this photo they are going to wonder where I hid those bags. They just loved having their own brown bags! What's new though... they like accessories... like I said, apples... tree, blah blah blah.
Rhode Island is incredible. Our house is perfect. Our yard is even better and our neighborhood couldn't be more suited to us. The coincidental run-ins and 6 degrees of separation thingy has really pushed me over the edge. It's as if everywhere I turn there's a new person who is connected to some part of my life - for example - our back yard neighbors who know some of my friends from highschool (despite the fact they are from Brooklyn and Texas). Hannah designs textiles - what an insanely cool sounding job...
Oh my though, Myles' work has gotten out of hand and we really don't get to see him. Yesterday was his first full Saturday off in 6 weeks, but he still had 7 hours this morning and he's due for another 30 or so consecutive hours starting tomorrow at 5AM. Disgusting. Single-momming it really isn't an exaggeration. I decided to really begin my nanny hunt for September because I'm going to loose my cool one of these days if I can't escape for an hour here and there. Maybe the Tuesday/Thursday school for 2.5 hours will do the trick, but then again... maybe not. So can you see why I never blog anymore? Why would I want to create time for this crap when I could be organizing the house for tomorrow's Mollie Ruby Eloise adventure?
In my repetitive existence as a mom, mindfulness meditation has never been more important. (Read: "I'm folding this small tee shirt. I'm folding this sleeve in, then the other, and then the whole thing in half. I'm folding these scrubs. I'm folding these scrubs. I'm folding these scrubs. They are an ugly toothpaste aqua color and I am folding them perfectly into a rectangle. I'm balling these socks and they are threadbare. Perhaps I should throw them out. I'm balling these socks. They are a pair. And now I'm going to rinse some dishes...")
Dang.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
cones
Post-beach we hit the local ice cream spot, and then moved on to the candy shop. Can you tell how exhausted I was? The ice cream was a reward for cooperating and leaving the beach, and the salt water taffy was a treat for behaving while waiting for my iced latte. HA! I'm such a sucker when I'm tired and there's nobody around to critique my weak parenting...
Newport
This photo says it all. The girls just love eachother to pieces! Sometimes when they wake up in the morning they like to climb in bed with me and cuddle and say things like, "I wuv you Eloise, you're my favorite". Then, "I love you too Ruby"... followed by hugs all around. Sometimes they go off tangents and they describe what it is they like most... "I really really like your eyebrows" or "you have a nice chin and your hair is curly. Boing!" And then they just keep talking and talking and talking... and I know exactly what you are all thinking... the apples don't fall far from the tree (something along those lines).
The girls are my best buddies and we really haven't spent more than 3 hours apart in the last 4 weeks - no joke. (Well, maybe I had one night out when my pal Beth was here where Myles decided to "babysit", but aside from that we have been inseparable.) For that reason, I have tried to keep the days on the adventurous side, exploring this little state as best I can. Here we are at Second Beach in Newport, enjoying the ocean breeze and powdery sand. Newport is certainly no contest for the beauty of Nantucket, but it will do just fine when the temperature is hanging around 90.
The girls are my best buddies and we really haven't spent more than 3 hours apart in the last 4 weeks - no joke. (Well, maybe I had one night out when my pal Beth was here where Myles decided to "babysit", but aside from that we have been inseparable.) For that reason, I have tried to keep the days on the adventurous side, exploring this little state as best I can. Here we are at Second Beach in Newport, enjoying the ocean breeze and powdery sand. Newport is certainly no contest for the beauty of Nantucket, but it will do just fine when the temperature is hanging around 90.
del's
So this was the only decent photo of the two girls on our little zoo trip. They were completely beat after a few hours of running around in the heat and we decided to enjoy a Del's Lemonade. Ruby was totally hogging the whole cup while Eloise tried hard to pick out some slushie chunks.
Roger Williams Zoo
This guy is so cool for looking at me. I mean, why should he care about people gawking at him in his concrete jungle?
Friday, July 07, 2006
lame-o update
Was it really June when I last wrote? I should be ashamed of myself. But in all that time we have managed to move into our new painted home, chop out all of the scary, thorny bushes and trees in our yard, unpack an assload of things, meet a couple of new people, discover some new playgrounds and even host some friends in our third floor guest room. To top it all off, Ru and El and I have escaped to Nantucket to play for a week. The first few days here couldn't have been more horrible- the girls had fevers and coughs, we took a trip to the fucking island hospital for some asthma meds and ended up having to get Ruby's temperature taken rectally (which I almost refused because not a soul back in Burlington ever took their temps that way) and the end result was .1 away from the armpit reading. Seriously unnecessary and oh-so-traumatic! Ru hates doctors anyway. What a help the ass probing will be on her psyche...
Anyway, I have never ever been so tried for patience and sanity as I was on Monday and Tuesday. Ruby was beyond... well... just BEYOND anything. She was hysterical, she was flailing, flopping, speaking in her demon voice and I wanted to just fall apart. So I yelled a lot, flailed my arms a little and spoke in MY demon voice (which I didn't know I had up until then) and we worked it out. Well, actually, we went out an bought some Benadryl and dosed the two of them so they would go to sleep. RELIEF. I felt ridiculous doing that, but now I think I know how I'm going survive through the cold and flu season of 2006.
Sitting here at this table reminds me of my first posts last June and July... we were here in kooky Nantucket and I was obsessing over the rich people. Honestly, I'm still doing it. I see these people walking around in what I perceive as COSTUMES. I mean, they CANNOT be for real. It's Lily Pullitzer with the Jack Rogers fucking sandals, cable knit cotton sweaters in lemon yellow draped over shoulders on a foggy night, the guys in their reds or better yet the whale pants (done with that "isn't it funny I'm wearing whale pants" kind of JCrew-ey perfection) with the polo shirt. Or no, the polo with the Yacht Club logo, and a pair of madras bermuda shorts.
And better yet, now that these crazy rich people have hipped-out in recent years (those folks who have abandoned all forms of preppy, yankee, WASPy sensibility, or just never knew that existed) we have stores on Main Street that sell $500 shoes and $2000 bags, and every woman over the age of 50 seems to have had some kind of "work" done to their face or body. Is this Nantucket or L.A.? (no wait, there are still too many whale pants to cancel out the L.A. effect, but I swear to God I saw a woman yesterday who looked like she was having an allergic reaction to something- her lips were THAT puffy. I couldn't stop staring. Her dermatologist had injected her one too many times.) Before I forget, did I mention that most of the women here seem to be underweight, and most of the men seem to be overweight? And everyone is most definitely drunk or hung over.
So I'm actually not complaining. I swear. It's just that I sometimes can't get my mind around who the uber rich really are and what their lives must be like. How would it feel to be able to throw down $200 so you could by your 2 year old a cashmere sweater or an Italian dress with hand smocking and some adorable little sandals to go with it? What if you loved your $300 bikini soooo much that you just had to buy it in 3 different colors - and you never once had to think about how that would damage your bank account? What does that level of financial security do to people's heads? You have to wonder...
But you know what else? I still like it here. I think. Like when there isn't a cloud in the sky and my kids are skipping around in 4 inch waves on a sandbar. Or when I eat those fucking divine doughnuts that nobody can reproduce anywhere... they are so hot and fresh out of the grease that you can't touch them, but you shove them in your mouth anyway because you waited 10 months to have these things again and you burn the roof of your mouth... and you slurp your coffee while you watch some picturesque sailboats bob about in the harbor. It smells like honeysuckle everywhere you turn. The air is so filled with moisture at all times - and the towels never seem dry. The "stay-at-home Moms" and grandmas (need I say nannies?) are working hard each day with their popourris and Febreeze to combat eau de Mildew in the linen closet - but they just can't win. The entire roll of toilet paper is damp. It rips off sheet by sheet, but you don't care, because when you finally get a decent handful and you reach back to wipe your ass, you catch a glimpse of your gentle tan lines and you feel so lucky. So embarrassingly lucky to have a family of 10 smashed into a weathered house filled with crazy memories. So lucky to be on a vacation. So lucky to have this ritual.
Anyway, I have never ever been so tried for patience and sanity as I was on Monday and Tuesday. Ruby was beyond... well... just BEYOND anything. She was hysterical, she was flailing, flopping, speaking in her demon voice and I wanted to just fall apart. So I yelled a lot, flailed my arms a little and spoke in MY demon voice (which I didn't know I had up until then) and we worked it out. Well, actually, we went out an bought some Benadryl and dosed the two of them so they would go to sleep. RELIEF. I felt ridiculous doing that, but now I think I know how I'm going survive through the cold and flu season of 2006.
Sitting here at this table reminds me of my first posts last June and July... we were here in kooky Nantucket and I was obsessing over the rich people. Honestly, I'm still doing it. I see these people walking around in what I perceive as COSTUMES. I mean, they CANNOT be for real. It's Lily Pullitzer with the Jack Rogers fucking sandals, cable knit cotton sweaters in lemon yellow draped over shoulders on a foggy night, the guys in their reds or better yet the whale pants (done with that "isn't it funny I'm wearing whale pants" kind of JCrew-ey perfection) with the polo shirt. Or no, the polo with the Yacht Club logo, and a pair of madras bermuda shorts.
And better yet, now that these crazy rich people have hipped-out in recent years (those folks who have abandoned all forms of preppy, yankee, WASPy sensibility, or just never knew that existed) we have stores on Main Street that sell $500 shoes and $2000 bags, and every woman over the age of 50 seems to have had some kind of "work" done to their face or body. Is this Nantucket or L.A.? (no wait, there are still too many whale pants to cancel out the L.A. effect, but I swear to God I saw a woman yesterday who looked like she was having an allergic reaction to something- her lips were THAT puffy. I couldn't stop staring. Her dermatologist had injected her one too many times.) Before I forget, did I mention that most of the women here seem to be underweight, and most of the men seem to be overweight? And everyone is most definitely drunk or hung over.
So I'm actually not complaining. I swear. It's just that I sometimes can't get my mind around who the uber rich really are and what their lives must be like. How would it feel to be able to throw down $200 so you could by your 2 year old a cashmere sweater or an Italian dress with hand smocking and some adorable little sandals to go with it? What if you loved your $300 bikini soooo much that you just had to buy it in 3 different colors - and you never once had to think about how that would damage your bank account? What does that level of financial security do to people's heads? You have to wonder...
But you know what else? I still like it here. I think. Like when there isn't a cloud in the sky and my kids are skipping around in 4 inch waves on a sandbar. Or when I eat those fucking divine doughnuts that nobody can reproduce anywhere... they are so hot and fresh out of the grease that you can't touch them, but you shove them in your mouth anyway because you waited 10 months to have these things again and you burn the roof of your mouth... and you slurp your coffee while you watch some picturesque sailboats bob about in the harbor. It smells like honeysuckle everywhere you turn. The air is so filled with moisture at all times - and the towels never seem dry. The "stay-at-home Moms" and grandmas (need I say nannies?) are working hard each day with their popourris and Febreeze to combat eau de Mildew in the linen closet - but they just can't win. The entire roll of toilet paper is damp. It rips off sheet by sheet, but you don't care, because when you finally get a decent handful and you reach back to wipe your ass, you catch a glimpse of your gentle tan lines and you feel so lucky. So embarrassingly lucky to have a family of 10 smashed into a weathered house filled with crazy memories. So lucky to be on a vacation. So lucky to have this ritual.
Friday, June 16, 2006
pawSox and clamBox
The sunny weather this week gave everybody in the family a chance to resume normal "springtime activities". On Monday we got my mom to look after the kids and we went to a Pawtucket Red Sox game (the equivalent of the VT Expos, but much cooler) with my brother's entire family. I am now fully embracing all that is culturally Rhode Islandy - including some specific brand of frozen lemonade that doesn't taste like a frozen Wet-Nap or Lemon Pledge. I think it's called "Del's"... and I hear it tastes great with vodka poured on it. (what a bonus!) We bought our girls some Paw Sox baseball caps just because it's cooler to sport "P"'s rather than "B"'s, and because with 7 dollar box seats we actually could afford some paraphernalia to take home.
My brother just started working full time as a Brand Manager for Hasbro (also in Pawtucket) and I went to visit his office and snoop around the company cubes after hours. The place is INSANE. I never knew there were so many different types of toys! Call me an idiot, but all the time spent at cute, hippie, politically correct toy stores in VT has left me kind of clueless about mainstream kidstuff. Do you guys know what Bratz dolls are? Well, BEWARE OF THE BRATZ! They just might be the evil teenage spawns of Barbie and Ken. Blech. Oh well, I still like Mr. and Ms. PotatoHead... and the new Darth Tater. And My Little Ponies. And Sit N Spins. All Hasbro. Angus just happens to be re-vamping Lite Brite. Remember that?
Somehow we might manage to make the big permanent move to Providence on Sunday, if everything goes as planned for putting the guard rail pieces on the girls' new beds. (Are we crazy? Why do we think we want them out of cribs?) Myles has orientation all next week, so at least he will be staying in the house. I'm just not sure the painter wants to deal with the threat of little kiddie paws messing up his work - and I'm not convinced I want to police them every second we are inside. But my goodness I'd like to have my privacy back and get out of my parents hair. Is it too much information to share that I still like to make coffee naked in the morning? (Yes, it probably is... but who needs secrets when there's a blog to write?) I don't think Ruby and Eloise think twice about it... but now that it's been so long without a naked mommy walking around, they might begin to ask some questions! Ugh. I want my naked coffee. (Which reminds me, we need to order some shades.)
Anyway... Let's see, I guess for the main mollieReport I will conclude that I am plunging right into the cosmopolitan lifestyle with a sickening kind of happiness. I got a super glam haircut today at some swanky salon. I went to my friends CATERED and D.J.-ed 30th birthday party last week in her fab new home... loved every second of it... danced a ton in completely stupid break-your-ankle kind of platforms. And this evening we all went to the Wollaston Clam Box for some good old fried food - just to keep it nice and ChowdaHead. Long live the Massholes!!!
Now if only I could figure out where Peter Manfredo Jr. lives - I might start stalking him.
My brother just started working full time as a Brand Manager for Hasbro (also in Pawtucket) and I went to visit his office and snoop around the company cubes after hours. The place is INSANE. I never knew there were so many different types of toys! Call me an idiot, but all the time spent at cute, hippie, politically correct toy stores in VT has left me kind of clueless about mainstream kidstuff. Do you guys know what Bratz dolls are? Well, BEWARE OF THE BRATZ! They just might be the evil teenage spawns of Barbie and Ken. Blech. Oh well, I still like Mr. and Ms. PotatoHead... and the new Darth Tater. And My Little Ponies. And Sit N Spins. All Hasbro. Angus just happens to be re-vamping Lite Brite. Remember that?
Somehow we might manage to make the big permanent move to Providence on Sunday, if everything goes as planned for putting the guard rail pieces on the girls' new beds. (Are we crazy? Why do we think we want them out of cribs?) Myles has orientation all next week, so at least he will be staying in the house. I'm just not sure the painter wants to deal with the threat of little kiddie paws messing up his work - and I'm not convinced I want to police them every second we are inside. But my goodness I'd like to have my privacy back and get out of my parents hair. Is it too much information to share that I still like to make coffee naked in the morning? (Yes, it probably is... but who needs secrets when there's a blog to write?) I don't think Ruby and Eloise think twice about it... but now that it's been so long without a naked mommy walking around, they might begin to ask some questions! Ugh. I want my naked coffee. (Which reminds me, we need to order some shades.)
Anyway... Let's see, I guess for the main mollieReport I will conclude that I am plunging right into the cosmopolitan lifestyle with a sickening kind of happiness. I got a super glam haircut today at some swanky salon. I went to my friends CATERED and D.J.-ed 30th birthday party last week in her fab new home... loved every second of it... danced a ton in completely stupid break-your-ankle kind of platforms. And this evening we all went to the Wollaston Clam Box for some good old fried food - just to keep it nice and ChowdaHead. Long live the Massholes!!!
Now if only I could figure out where Peter Manfredo Jr. lives - I might start stalking him.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
our new yard
My brother and his family descended upon our yard with these monstrous plastic structures one evening. The girls are in love with this thing... and the giant turtle pool... hours of entertainment.
Now only if the fucking rain would stop. This weather has to be payback for something. It's like an endless bad day on Survivor Amazon.
Now only if the fucking rain would stop. This weather has to be payback for something. It's like an endless bad day on Survivor Amazon.
D.I.Y. heaven
TILE MANIA! This business of tiling stuff is addictive. I think I'm going to tile myself into a corner - morroccan tiles though, not cream subways... i'm tired of the one-color job.
In blogging about my home improvements I'm feeling a wee bit boring. MONDO BORO as we used to say.
So, to spice things up I'll add that I ran into a couple with a 2 year old girl at this cute gift store near our new house. We started talking and I discovered the mom was a RISD prof in graphic design - and since we just bought a house from a semi-retired graphic design prof I thought perhaps they might know him... and then they said, "Oh! you bought Krystof's house. We loved attending parties on that back deck. What a beautiful yard you guys have!" blah blah blah. (see the above post)
Now I know that doesn't seem like an out of the ordinary coincidence or anything, considering how many artists live in the Providence area, but I have to just recognize that moment. Why did I choose to walk by that store at that particular second? I mean, my mom was picking up some take-out and I decided to walk the girls down the street - but I almost went into the restaurant to wait. And why was this mom I met a graphic design prof and not a fiber arts prof or something?
These kinds of meetings are supposed to happen - they can give us direction - and if we don't take the time to learn something from them, they start to dwindle away until they don't happen at all, right?
Well, right before I met these people, we were hanging out in a playground and I saw a small red thing poking out of the grass. For a second I thought it was Eloise's heart-shaped button that she has a habit of carrying around, so I bent down to pick it up and discovered that it wasn't her button at all. It was a tiny glass heart. Not a charm, not part of a bracelet or necklace. Just a shiny red glass heart - no more than an inch wide and 1/2 inch thick. A 3D heart. I could pop the adorable thing in my mouth like a Valentine chocolate.
A heart of glass.
Beyond the association with the Blondie song, am I allowed to over-think (or should I overlook) this bite-sized token?
In blogging about my home improvements I'm feeling a wee bit boring. MONDO BORO as we used to say.
So, to spice things up I'll add that I ran into a couple with a 2 year old girl at this cute gift store near our new house. We started talking and I discovered the mom was a RISD prof in graphic design - and since we just bought a house from a semi-retired graphic design prof I thought perhaps they might know him... and then they said, "Oh! you bought Krystof's house. We loved attending parties on that back deck. What a beautiful yard you guys have!" blah blah blah. (see the above post)
Now I know that doesn't seem like an out of the ordinary coincidence or anything, considering how many artists live in the Providence area, but I have to just recognize that moment. Why did I choose to walk by that store at that particular second? I mean, my mom was picking up some take-out and I decided to walk the girls down the street - but I almost went into the restaurant to wait. And why was this mom I met a graphic design prof and not a fiber arts prof or something?
These kinds of meetings are supposed to happen - they can give us direction - and if we don't take the time to learn something from them, they start to dwindle away until they don't happen at all, right?
Well, right before I met these people, we were hanging out in a playground and I saw a small red thing poking out of the grass. For a second I thought it was Eloise's heart-shaped button that she has a habit of carrying around, so I bent down to pick it up and discovered that it wasn't her button at all. It was a tiny glass heart. Not a charm, not part of a bracelet or necklace. Just a shiny red glass heart - no more than an inch wide and 1/2 inch thick. A 3D heart. I could pop the adorable thing in my mouth like a Valentine chocolate.
A heart of glass.
Beyond the association with the Blondie song, am I allowed to over-think (or should I overlook) this bite-sized token?
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Thoughts from the Shower
Some of my great revelations come to me while I'm hanging out in the shower - and late last night I started thinking about cooking shellfish. You know how when you boil a pot of muscles or clams you discard the ones that don't open up because you're afraid they might make you sick? Well, I was thinking that my reaction to a "heated" situation is not unlike what happens to a clam in a hot pot. I just open right up.
Myles on the other hand cracks open just a little. Perhaps he has a good method though - like he is holding up a sign to people saying, "you might not want to consume what's inside".
(on a semi-unrelated note... does anyone remember that song "pulling muscles from a shell"? I think it was Squeeze... but not sure. Off to do an iTunes search. I'll fill you all in shortly.)
Myles on the other hand cracks open just a little. Perhaps he has a good method though - like he is holding up a sign to people saying, "you might not want to consume what's inside".
(on a semi-unrelated note... does anyone remember that song "pulling muscles from a shell"? I think it was Squeeze... but not sure. Off to do an iTunes search. I'll fill you all in shortly.)
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
wind knocked in
For those of you who care to know, we have successfully moved our belongings to Providence. Our home has been under some light construction and is currently getting painted. New appliances and new beds arrive on Friday - so we are staying with my mom while we wait things out. The funny thing is that I am completely filled up with every possible emotion. Saturated with nerves... my body is having these incredible sensations, most of which come from my chest (no, it's not a panic attack, but perhaps "generalized anxiety") and it makes me awfully aware of my diaphragm. I like to describe it as the opposite of having the wind knocked out of you. I'm so full of air, my ribs splay out, my heart just wants to burst out like a balloon - and in this moment I forget to exhale. I'm just kind of sucking in... stuff. The moment is simultaneously exhilarating and exhausting.
But this doesn't mean I'm not having fun. In fact, I'm trying really hard to focus on the practical shit when we visit the house... tiling the kitchen, organizing the basement, watching the kids play in their new play house, getting excited about tacky laminate flooring in a hallway. We have some excellent distractions, but when I get a moment to myself (like when I'm browsing the skincare aisle of CVS) I could just explode. What the hell did we just do?... oh yeah... we bought a house... and in 2 weeks I won't see my husband except for a few tired hours a week... and I flat out left a place where I have spent almost all of my post-college years.
Two days before we left Burlington the Websters participated in the Marathon relay. I did manage to complete the 6.5 (in under 60 minutes!) and it was an excellent way to say my goodbyes to the town. That run down Church Street with every person cheering, the run by the lake (my perfect Lake on a sunshiny day!), and then onto the insane taiko drummers carrying me up the hill - literally - my hair was standing on end, I had goosebumps everywhere and I felt like a machine. We should all run a race at some point in our lives - because once you get over the fact that you are probably not going to win (and hell, you could come in dead last) you can appreciate the sensation of a great community event, and you can always remember that your feet allowed you to take a trip to a place you might never have visited. (I completely revel in the fact that a race allows you to run in city streets... on the yellow line sometimes... they stop traffic for you, etc..)
Which reminds me, I should keep running. That's the only time that I can count on my breath going in and out just the right way and it doesn't get caught. Often I talk myself out of a run - for fear of the boredom of being on the road alone.
Time to find a running partner I guess.
p.s. - no photos to post because i'm on my dad's computer... just wait 'til you see my mad phat Bob Villa skills on the kitchen backsplash.
But this doesn't mean I'm not having fun. In fact, I'm trying really hard to focus on the practical shit when we visit the house... tiling the kitchen, organizing the basement, watching the kids play in their new play house, getting excited about tacky laminate flooring in a hallway. We have some excellent distractions, but when I get a moment to myself (like when I'm browsing the skincare aisle of CVS) I could just explode. What the hell did we just do?... oh yeah... we bought a house... and in 2 weeks I won't see my husband except for a few tired hours a week... and I flat out left a place where I have spent almost all of my post-college years.
Two days before we left Burlington the Websters participated in the Marathon relay. I did manage to complete the 6.5 (in under 60 minutes!) and it was an excellent way to say my goodbyes to the town. That run down Church Street with every person cheering, the run by the lake (my perfect Lake on a sunshiny day!), and then onto the insane taiko drummers carrying me up the hill - literally - my hair was standing on end, I had goosebumps everywhere and I felt like a machine. We should all run a race at some point in our lives - because once you get over the fact that you are probably not going to win (and hell, you could come in dead last) you can appreciate the sensation of a great community event, and you can always remember that your feet allowed you to take a trip to a place you might never have visited. (I completely revel in the fact that a race allows you to run in city streets... on the yellow line sometimes... they stop traffic for you, etc..)
Which reminds me, I should keep running. That's the only time that I can count on my breath going in and out just the right way and it doesn't get caught. Often I talk myself out of a run - for fear of the boredom of being on the road alone.
Time to find a running partner I guess.
p.s. - no photos to post because i'm on my dad's computer... just wait 'til you see my mad phat Bob Villa skills on the kitchen backsplash.
Monday, May 22, 2006
mo'faya!
The only person who might understand the true meaning of the title of this entry is Uncle Ram. REGARDLESS... how's about them doctors? They are so fucking cool and I'm proud of each and every one of them. I feel like some of Myles' classmates are my children too! (BTW, Myles' fist is the highest one, up in the left of the photo.)
Dr. Webster
Does Myles look happy or what? His mom was gloating - all smiles for everyone. (How's about my gi-normous forehead?)
Saturday, May 20, 2006
self-timer
I didn't really notice the table showing up in this image when I set it up - but this is the best I could do for our Park School 15th reunion shot. Last weekend at home was such a treat for me. I managed to get overly introspective about "coming home"... you know, HOME... where I spent 18 solid years growing into a decent human... and all of these old pals are such amazing people. What a huge treat it was to see everyone. I was seriously shocked though by the contrast between cosmopolitans and Vermonters. Just the pace and volume of conversation is wilder - unrestrained... perhaps more ego-centric... and people seem to have better preppy manners than I previously remember. The preppy manners in Vermont seem to have disappeared. Either that or folks up here have ditched all attempts to have "manners" (in the old school sense of the word) because they don't seem necessary, or because they are affiliated with an ancient conservative mindset. (To my dear Vermonters, I do love you for being rebels.)
Whatever. I'm annoying. I guess what I'm getting at is that I feel more comfortable with the people who live 3.5 hours south of here. (I sincerely hope that whoever is reading this is having a good laugh at me. This whole moving thing has stirred up something crazy. Yikes.)
Whatever. I'm annoying. I guess what I'm getting at is that I feel more comfortable with the people who live 3.5 hours south of here. (I sincerely hope that whoever is reading this is having a good laugh at me. This whole moving thing has stirred up something crazy. Yikes.)
sweet El
Chimpanzee lips can be easily replaced with a stunning smile.
Note the boxes in the background. The status of my "home" right now is enough to make most people very very anxious and sad.
Note the boxes in the background. The status of my "home" right now is enough to make most people very very anxious and sad.
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