Destination: SHIRTLESS

The whole weekend got off to strange and rocky beginnings. I didn't even get out my front door until after 8:00pm; four hours later than my original plan. And, unbeknownst to me, my directions were missing the last two lines. I could seriously get lost in a funeral procession, so this is devastating news for me in particular. I spent AN HOUR slowly pacing that narrow country road and scattering cranky texts and voice messages to my peeps. No responses. No light from heaven illuminating the way. None of my usual saving graces. I was lurching along from house to house, breathing deeply and erratically, when the car behind me flashed its brights in irritation. I politely rolled my car to the shoulder of the road... and right into a ditch.

sscraaaape CLUNK.

I might have cursed.

A few times.

Loudly.

Whilst beating the steering wheel with my forehead.

I was beginning to suspect that no amount of screaming and spinning my tires in the air would get me back on the road when a man stepped out of the wooded property right across the street from the scene of my shame. A handsome guy in his mid twenties with abs that could scrub red stains out of a white cotton skirt. I know this because the man was shirtless. And tan. And glistening with a light sweat. WHY he was shirtless and sweating in his yard at 9:00 in the evening is a mystery to me and I have no desire to solve it, so keep your guesses to yourself thankyouverymuch. All I know is it was the perfect pick-me-up in my moment of emotional crisis.

 

"Hi there." he said with a roguish grin. "Need a little help out here?"
I flashed my big-eyed Damsel smile and replied, "I'll need help at some point, but this is definitely not a one man job."

He moseyed (yes... moseyed) over to check out the damage, threw me a cocky little smirk and asked me to wait as he disappeared back into his property. I obeyed, hoping this guy had the muscle to match his brag as I REALLY didn't fancy the headache of getting a tow truck.

Seconds later he reappeared, flanked by two more yummy 20 something guys. I leaned back in my chair and felt my eyelids get heavy as my eyebrows involuntarily raised to my hairline. My mood was dramatically improving.

They put their backs into it as I revved along for a few minutes with no results. I was on the verge of suggesting that maybe they would be more successful if they ALL took their shirts off when a passing car rolled to a stop beside us.  Another twenty-something man with a flawlessly symmetrical face leaned out the window and said, "You guys need an extra hand?" I piped right in and invited him to join the manpower party.

He got out of his car and took a few steps in my direction. Then everything seemed to go into slow motion as he crossed his arms at the waist...    lifted his shirt.... and pulled it over his head.   It was like a scene out of New Moon! At this point I was trying not to laugh. I started looking around for someone... ANYONE... who might be seeing this too.  As he put his shoulder on my hood and they counted down to the push, I tried discretely digging around for my camera. Words would never do it justice.

Another minute of rocking and revving got me safely on the pavement. I cheered my gratitude as they strutted proudly to my window. He suggested my transmission might be damaged and offered to follow me to where ever I was going.
Nice.
I passed on the extra protection and bid them all a wonderful evening.

That stimulating adventure must have sharpened my senses because as I drove down that same road I spotted some sad little balloons drooping from an unlit mailbox next to a gravel road. THIS MUST BE IT: The location of our second annual Women's Retreat.  I had spent the last year happily anticipating this event and expecting the kind of low key, relaxing experience one might read about in Senior Living.
So far… not so much.

As I pulled up to the house, people started blowing up my phone in response to my outdated cries for help. I ignored them with a smirk, stepped into the party and said, "You'll never believe what just happened to me."

The evening with the girls was quiet and uneventful. I laid in a hammock under the stars, shared a few secrets with my bestie, Rachel, and retired to a tent by a babbling brook. We fell asleep giggling and woke up smiling. I spent an hour practicing yoga in the morning sunlight before the rest of the camp was up. I felt rested and ready for some action!



Only seven of us ladies were brave enough to clear our schedules for the big event planned that day: tubing down the Cedar River. I used to go tubing all the time as a kid and haven't since. I COULD NOT WAIT.

It was perfect weather for it. Not a cloud in the sky, over 80 degrees, light breeze... The only downer was the news that it was now illegal to tube the river without a life jacket. SERIOUSLY? It's TWO FEET DEEP! I don't want life jacket tan lines! I strapped the cursed thing on, plopped into my tube, and the neck of the life jacket slid up to my ears as the side holes cut off all circulation to my arms. SAFETY SUCKS. None of us were particularly happy about it. Our whining paid off when a fellow floater told us that cops weren't allowed to issue anything but a warning until they had signs posted along the river. He hadn't even finished his sentence before I had converted my life jacket into a throw pillow for my tube.

We bobbed along with careless perma-grins on our faces as the names of our children faded quietly to the back of our minds. Occasionally someone would sporadically yell things like, "NO BODY NEEDS ME RIGHT NOW!" or "I CAN ACTUALLY CLOSE MY EYES WITHOUT FEAR!" All quite liberating realizations for a mother.

In my state of recumbent bliss, I didn't notice that the river had begun to narrow and the pace of the rapids had quickened.  Just ahead of me, I heard a strangled squawk.  I lurched my tube around just on time to witness my friend Amy being EATEN by a TREE along the side of the river.  Before I had time to process the visual, my tube was sucked into the same current that had sealed her fate.  I scrambled for my guide stick, but it was too late.  The branches were on top of me; clawing at my face and shoulders like an Ent on a Ork.  I covered my face protectively and ducked for cover.  That little move cost me my stability and, without so much as a warning shudder, my tube flipped me face first into the icy cold water.

The river at this point was about waist deep and moving very fast.  When my feet found the floor I surfaced for air.  Extremely disoriented, it took a moment for my eyes to focus on the item floating along in front of me. 

Ya.  It was my bikini top.
Those damn tree branches had torn it right off my body.

I pounced on that thing like a hungry crocodile and slung it around my neck for safe keeping. The current was WAY too fast for me to stand up without holding my arms out for balance.  Unless I wanted to be dragged along those rocks until the current slowed, I was going to have to star in a riverside peep show.  I was about to raise the curtain for it, so to speak, when something caught my eye.  There, on the riverbank beside me, stood 4 or 5 twenty something guys.  Drinking beer.  Watching me.  Shirtless.  With little smirks on their faces.

ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME.

30 feet or so ahead of me, my friend Amy watched with concern as I continued to bounce along, gasping and gulping for air, water at chin level.

"WHY don't you STAND UP!"  Amy shouted.

All I could manage was a feeble waving of my bikini top necklace.  It took a few seconds for her to connect the dots.  Then a light went on in her eyes and, like any good friend, she threw her head back, pointed and laughed.

Even in my current state, shins badly bruised, gashed and bleeding, pride in pretty much the same condition, I was laughing too.  And those guys?  They were WALKING ALONG THE BANK BESIDE ME.  Just watching and waiting.  They knew I'd have to stand up eventually.  psht.  MEN.

The current dragged me all the way to Amy, who was laughing so hard she could barely maintain her balance.  She helped me stand so I could keep my hands where my top should have been.  As the rest of our group arrived on the scene and realized what had happened, they each, in turn, began pointing and laughing.  Nothing like a little public nudity to seal the bonds of friendship.

All in all, it was a fantastic weekend.  The tubing for sure was one of the highlights of my summer.  I can't wait to go again.  But I do believe that next time I will obey the laws of our land and wear a friggin life jacket!

Rock Creek Men

My brilliant beloved was asked to put together a little entertainment for a party at my church. The point of the thing was for the men to dote on their women. They made us dinner and made us feel appreciated. Jonathan took that idea and got creative with it through this little video he threw together. I don't know if it's because we know everyone in the video, but it was a huge hit as far as I could tell. People were rolling in the isles. Another 100 points to my boy. Enjoy!

Husband

THANK YOU.

  THANK YOU for waffles on Saturday mornings.

THANK YOU for tireless I.T. support during projects that mean nothing to you,
                                                                                            but everything to me.

                                                        THANK YOU for movie quotes and late night treats.

                           THANK YOU for letting me have three quarters of the space in our master closet.

    THANK YOU for encouraging me to excel
                                                         without feeling threatened, inadequate or resentful.

                               THANK YOU for loving my daughter and making her your own.

               THANK YOU for long massages when I'm in pain, even though your wrists are aching too.

THANK YOU for walking past piles of laundry to smile, hug me tightly and say
                                                                                      "How was your day?"

                     THANK YOU for making fun of yourself.

THANK YOU for accepting that I'm always running late, and for liking me anyway.

                                                                       THANK YOU for stepping up when I fall to pieces.

                                         THANK YOU for having an opinion, and for letting me have mine.

                  THANK YOU for that adorable face you make when you're pretending to be cranky.

                      THANK YOU for giving me the space I needed to create myself,
                                                                           even when it hurt you to do so. 

                               THANK YOU for slightly irreverent whisperings and giggles in church.

          THANK YOU for forcing us to talk about 'feelings' - even though that's not really our thing.

THANK YOU for showing my boys

every day

the right way to treat a woman.

              

                          THANK YOU  for knowing not to wear black shoes with a brown belt.

THANK YOU for delighting in my wild side while still seeing and loving the tender girl within.

                  THANK YOU for dropping your stuff to come home early so I can go do my stuff.

                                       THANK YOU for letting me heal you when you're sad and broken.

       THANK YOU for countless hours spent building the beautiful playhouse in our back yard.

                        THANK YOU for silently hanging a fresh towel for me 

                                                         every time I forget to grab one before I get in the shower.

                 THANK YOU for being my cheering section throughout my many pursuits.

THANK YOU for compliments and expressions of gratitude after every single meal I cook.

 THANK YOU for forgiving me.

THANK YOU for trying to forgive yourself.

For eleven years of jokes, of tenderness,  of growing pains, of patience, of loyalty... THANK YOU.

Happy Anniversary Bebe.
I love you.

Pressure

He stands before the mindless minions as they chant their chorus: 

                         "Jump. 
                                      Jump! 
                                                  Jump!"

The searing spotlight locks upon him.  A new target.  They push their collective will like a steady pulse with the force of a tidal wave.  A blanket of shame intensifies the heat under his collar and mutes the warning protests in his head.  The demon, Pride, lends his muscle to the fight, intent on mangling reason with derision.

Passing signs that clearly state --DANGER.  ROCKS BELOW-- he draws closer to the jagged edge where he'd watched the others leap, one by one; a forced yell of defiance lingering in the empty space where they safely stood just moments ago.  He peers down at the menacing water, its rocky depths unknown, and he finds a slow growing desire to be swallowed into that cold darkness, if only to find relief from the burning, blinding pressure of the spotlight.

That desire quickly becomes a decision that floods his mind like liquid Novocaine; numbing his conscience and paralysing his judgement.  His eyes lose focus, his jaw goes slack, and stepping in tempo with his frantically racing heart, he breaks into an aggressive sprint and throws himself over the side.

The force that pulls him downward is an unbreakable law of nature.  The thin fabric of the clothing that protects him pops angrily against his skin, mocking it's purpose.  His helpless body cuts viciously through the air, which seems to thicken as he nears the ground.

The ground.

A reality so far from his mind when he chose to jump.  A truth that just moments before had been merely an abstract possibility is now the only reality left to him.  The end of life as he knows it.
The end of life...
The end...

Comedians on Helium

The things that come out of these little mouths have me in absolute stitches on a regular basis.  Throwing a few stitches your way...

Me: "Squeaks, what took you so long?"
  Squeaks: "I was be-carefuling, Mom!"



Monkey: "OH my GOSH Mom! You're shrinking like Great Grandma!"
  Me: "What makes you say that?"
Monkey: "Cuz when I was like 5 years old, I couldn't even wrap my arms all the way around you. NOW look!!!"



Squeaks:  "What would you rather do:  Tie your shoes forEVER?  Or die."



Shiney: "My teacher said Mozart was a scruffy dwarf person who blamed God that he couldn't hear."
  Me: "Um, I'm not sure about all that."
Shiney: "Oh believe it Mom. My teacher is like FORTY years old. She's very, VERY wise."



Me:  "Monkey, where are you going?"
  Monkey:  "I don't know.  But when I get there I'll send you a postcard."



Squeaks: "Mom, I can't think of a single thing you left out of this soup that could make it more disgusting."



Me:  "We better make our plans for New Years Eve!"
  Shiney:  "What!  I thought New Years Eve was LAST year."



Me:  "Is that the stuffed animal you made in school?"
  Monkey:  "Yup.  I named him Puffles.  He's an evil vampire bunny."



*watching a Batman cartoon, as Bruce Wayne and Vicki Vale have their first kiss*
Squeaks:  "GROSS!  This is Batman!  There's no true love in BATMAN?!!  WHAT IS GOING ON?!!!"



Me:  "Well what makes you think he'll make fun of you?"
  Shiney:  *with DUH written on her face* "He's a BOY."

Me:  "Those are all really good ideas, Monkey!"

  Monkey:  "Ya.  I'm pretty much the smartest person I know."

Me: "That garbage truck has blocked us in and now we've missed your bus!"
  Squeaks: "Ya. We missed it. It's the truck's fault." *then with a big smile* "This will be the first time we've missed the bus and it wasn't YOUR fault, Mommy!"


...and the punch lines get better every year.  What are your little comedians saying these days?

Read My Lips

Do you know someone that seems to turn heads wherever they go? The reason for this isn't immediately apparent. They just stand out. Attract attention. Well I'm that stand out person. It's not always a comfortable position to be in, but I'm used to it and rather enjoy the heat of the spotlight. A side effect of that kind of heat, however, is a pretty thick protective wall. I'm friendly, but rather slow to let my guard down.

When I started writing, I only knew one person who was into blogging. Pretty much all of my readers were random e-friends who didn't know me or have any access to my life. So feeling safe in my relative anonymity, I would just sit down and let it roll - unedited - right out into print.

In my new city, however, EVERYONE blogs. For some reason, mine spread like wildfire amongst the locals, giving me quite a bit of notoriety. I felt I was surrounded by like minded women who valued people on a level deeper than mere common interests, so I let my guard down and enjoyed the benefits of that attention. 

But the sad fact remains; anyone who attracts attention can expect a mean-spirited backlash at some point. Last year that backlash hit me like a runaway dumpster.  Normally, something like that would just roll off of me. But then normally, I have my guard up. This time it really affected me and I could no longer find a shred of motivation to publish my writing.

Blah blah blah.  Whine whine whine.  I'm done hiding out.  All the creative energy that I used to spend on here has been exploding into other areas of my life.  It's left me with more writing material then I'll ever be able to use.  I've got to get it out!  If you speak Tongue in Cheek, feel free to peek in on me now and then.  If you DON'T speak Tongue in Cheek, hear this now:

 I'M EFFING KIDDING!!! 

I am not narcissistic.  I don't think I'm stunning or superior or anything overtly important.  But I am, and have always been happy with myself as I evolve.  Skinny or fat, blonde or brunette, put together or falling apart; 
I am flawed AND I am fabulous!  Just like you.  Embrace it with me! 
Then we can all just get along.

and now... A Downer.

It courses through my mind like a Hindi Mantra.

Be fashionable, but live simply.

Stop and smell the roses, but always be on time.

Be dependable, but learn to say no.

Pamper yourself, but put the kids first.

Be consistant and flexible.

Pray with him.  Pray with them. 

Pray alone.  Then pray again.

Keep the kids groomed.  Support local business.

Dote on your husband.  Keep your home spotless.

Develop your talents.  Be a school volunteer. 

Be politically active.  Build your career.

Decorate.  Meditate. 

Excercise.  Moisturize.

Clip coupons.  Read for pleasure. 

Take up new hobbies.  Be a good neighbor.

Do community service. Landscape your yard.

Plan family outings. Send thank you cards.

Get a degree, then go get another.

Nurture your friendships and visit your mother.

And somehow still find the time to study  your religion, sleep 7-8 hours a night, eat 5-6 small meals a day,  stay culturally informed, force your kids through chores and homework, put away all the laundry before it gets cold, write in a journal,  and keep the championship ring for Amant Sensationnel.

It's ridiculous how many things I left OFF of this list.

HOW.
Can someone please tell me?

HOW is this done? How am I going to survive it? I think I'm slowly going mad. I hardly sleep anymore. I rarely sit to eat.  I'm more organized now than I've ever been in my life, and I'm still losing things, forgetting things and running chronically 20 minutes late, which is SO frustrating!  I have pages and pages of 'To Do' lists. I'll check one thing off the top as I add three things to the bottom.

I know this is the most unoriginal complaint in American culture.  I know that the solution is to prioritize.  But putting them in order of importance absolutely assures that the things on the bottom will never actually reach my life.  There literally are not enough hours in a day to do it all!  So WHAT gets left out?  My home?  My body?  My mind?  My family?  My community?  I'm really not OK skipping any of that! 

Am I demanding too much of myself, or is this how it's supposed to be?  Do men face the same kinds of challenges?  Is there anyone out there who has figured out how to pace themselves to manage the weight of it all?

Someone please save me from drowning in this pile of To Do.

A Cautionary Tale for the Excessively Vain

Considering my sizable vanity, I'm shockingly unconcerned about aging.  Don't get me wrong, I'm planning on putting up a fight.  But I'll do it naturally and gracefully.  That's always been my attitude, and is still the plan.  Even though, this year, the skin around my eyes got the memo that I'm now in my 30's, and has since started seriously slacking.  Honestly, not a huge deal.  But it has brought something to light that wasn't so obvious before.

My eyes are each completely different shapes and sizes.  No, seriously.  My left eye is bigger and rounder, while my right eye is smaller and more almond shaped.  It's BAD!  And it gets worse every week it seems!  The first few times I noticed it, I thought it was a fluke.  But  it's getting to the point where I almost don't even like seeing pictures of myself.  We certainly can't have THAT now CAN WE!

So I started analyzing why my face would be aging this way.  And after about 4 hours of staring at myself in the mirror, it hit me!  When I was very young, I realized I could lift my left eyebrow.  I thought it was the coolest thing ever, so I worked the 'one raised eyebrow' into my repertoire of expressions.  I've been doing it for years.  I don't really think about the face muscles much.  But really, every time you pull a face, you're working a muscle.  What do you think would happen if every day you lifted weights with your left arm, and never with your right.  You see where I'm going with this?

I immediately began a daily brow flexing regimen.  I stared in that mirror and willed my right eyebrow up.  mmmnnnngggggrrrrrrr.... rrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhrrrrrahaahahaaaaaa!!!!

NOT GONNA HAPPEN.  It's like the muscles don't exist!  I saw my face 40 years from now, the right side all old and shriveled, and completely buried under folds of skin.  Then the left?  ALL EYEBALL, zipping around like the great eye of Sauron.

NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

FLLLLEX!  FLLLLLEX!  I have been working on that eyebrow every chance I get, breaking a sweat standing there doing nothing but willing that darn muscle to work.  After a month of consistant brow flex time, it actually responded!  Shuddering up a fraction of an inch for a fraction of a second.  I fell to the ground in tears, thanking the maker for my second chance at graceful aging. 

Now I can raise my right eyebrow on cue, though I still have to hold my left one still in order to do it.  Strange I know, but hey.  It's a work in progress.  When the stakes are this high, I'll do what I have to. 

So kids, the moral of this story is simple.   Every face you pull is shaping the aged mask you will DIE in one day.  So smile easily, scowl with care, and FOR THE LOVE  ... do it on BOTH sides of your face!

Status Report

Hey there Stranger.

Remember me?


How's that for an ice breaker!



You know you need to reprioritize your schedule when you find a block of VELVEETA CHEESE in your fridge that has gone bad! VELVEETA! The cockroach of cheese! I actually managed to kill it! I didn't even know that was possible.

Another sure sign of over scheduling is when you love to write, but haven't done so in MONTHS. I have had the most incredibly eventful year, and all of it is blogable. But my time constraints have forced me to take what used to be a lovely, provocative, 4-6 paragraph blog post, and condense it into a one-sentence status update on Facebook. I don't even know where to begin bringing you guys up to speed, so I'll just deliver the highlights Facebook Style: One sentence per topic.


I started painting with a wonderful artist who is mentoring me through my first art series on canvas.

I lost all my extra pounds and, according to my Doctor, I am now my ideal weight!

I flew out to a singer's/ songwriter's workshop, recorded a song in a gorgeous studio, and had some very positive feedback from a Simon Cowell Type producer & writer.

My baby boy started Kindergarten!

Business is BAD BAD BAD and I HATE this EFFING recession.

I'm taking piano lessons in an effort to learn to play chords and write basic accompaniment for the songs I've written.

I tossed my whole life upside down when I decided, on a whim of course, to paint my living room, entry way, hall way, stairwell, salon, guest bath, upstairs hallway and my kids' bathroom ALL IN ONE WEEK.

I have reignited my passionate love affair with old leather-bound books.

My favorite little brother got to come stay with me during his brief L-o-A from the Army.

My favoritestest new BF is teaching me the ropes of couponing, and my eyes are being opened to the wonderful world of MAJOR SAVINGS!

I'm learning that excessive couponing and budget restriction makes me tremble and sweat like a junkie, and a frivolous SHOPPING SPREE is the only drug that kills my pain.

I went on a major spending spree and did some serious decorating in my house, which is looking more and more like ME with every passing $$$.

I saw Wicked for the first time, (LOVED IT!) and it's been playing in my head ever since.

While our boys were on a campout, Shiney and I got up at 5 am for a girls trip to the San Juan Islands... and then I proceeded to LOCK US OUT OF THE HOUSE with no coats, no food, no money, no car keys - until the boys got home that afternoon.

I had a pregnancy scare that lasted just one morning, which is good because I was moments from tampering with my own brakes and taking a drive up Mount Rainier.

I got an I Phone!

I realized on an entirely new level that I am really really bad at not getting what I want.

I discovered a box of craft items in my garage, and within a week I had over a dozen Suburban Housewife Secrets revealed to me from a variety of sources. Coincidence? I think NOT! Everyone knows crafting is a Housewife qualifier! I just broke my "one sentence per topic" rule.

I have become completely focused (well... as focused as a scattered arteest can be) on getting my life organized, and MUCH has been affected by this effort.

Jonathan decided he could be a carpenter if he wanted to, so he BOUGHT ALL THE POWER TOOLS (do you hear the pain?) and he BUILT ME A MUD ROOM!!! (do you hear the bliss?!)

A few honest conversations and some zany adventures have brought my relationship with my BFFF to new heights of awesomeness. I LOVE YOU K-RATED!

I recieved a hilarious blog award from Beth of Living a Quotable Life, which guilted me into writing again, even though I only have time to do it in the middle of the night when I should be sleeping.

"The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the Zombie Chicken-- excellence, grace, and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all."

I choose:

Christie, who is undoubtedly one of my favorite things.
Debi, who reigns supreme as the Master of Artful Wordsmithing.
Melissa, who's charm and humor absolutely endear her to all readers.
Vicki, who's unique "Seriously" series has me giggling every time.
Kristen, who's smart, funny movie reviews have me hanging on every word.

Congratulations bloggers!  Keep up the good work.

Summer

Generous columns of silvery morning sunlight flood through my sheer bedroom curtains. My silent alarm clock.

Inhale until my vision goes dark. Stretch until I have to exhale. Every muscle is relaxed. I hear screams of injustice followed by peels of laughter coming from downstairs. I smile, roll onto my side, and pray.

Another summer morning.

The invigorating, repetitive motion of a light jog. Proud warrior, downward dog, child's pose. I am strong.

Outside, indulging thirsty plants with fat drops of icy cold water from the garden hose. The soil darkens, the plants sigh. I love that smell.

Happy, sun browned faces bounce through the house, leaving a trail of grass blades and sidewalk chalk. Juice rings on the counter, finger smudges on the glass door, the lawn mower chokes on another popsicle stick.

The crisp sound of linen being spread out over grass. PB & J. Grapes and graham crackers. We loudly display our vocabulary of silly words. Our population swells and contracts as swarms of neighbor kids ping pong between houses. Blanket forts and bicycles. Water guns and freeze tag. A dining room table buried under a thick spread of crayon art and watercolor paintings.

Short shorts and hot car seats. Windows down, music up, "MOM! Can we go to DQ? MOM! Can we listen to Let It Rock again? MOM! Can we go to the beach today? MOM! MOM! MOM!"

The smell of barbecue outside. The front door opens, three little feets pounding down the stairs, cheers and chants of "DADDY!" Some one's about to be tickled, that's for sure. Strong arms around me. Warm sweet kisses in the airy, sunlit kitchen.

Bath time. Sweaty hair and bright white bottoms. More bubbles than water. Infectious Littleboy Giggles. A gritty layer of sand on the tub floor. The light outside turns to violet gold.

Open windows fill the house with a cool evening breeze. Shiny clean faces and minty fresh baby breath. We sit in piles of blankets and read our favorite books. All is finally quiet. He looks at me with a slow smile. The night is still young...

I wish for an endless summer.