I Never Know What I Was Thinking, So Don't Ask Me

For some reason, I totally thought this summer was going to be easy. I envisioned all this spare time that I'd have. Because my kids are older now, see? So in my brain, that somehow equaled more of me typing away on my laptop, or reading more than two chapters of a book every night, and even (gasp!) getting my house clean and organized.

I'll just pause now so you can get that laugh out of your system.

So, no, it wasn't a summer filled with all that free time I thought it would be. It wasn't a hard summer by any means, it was just full and busy and there wasn't a whole lot of time for solo, uninterrupted stuff.

And then last week, the kids went off with my parents in West Virginia, and what do Clint and I do? We rip up the carpet in our living room. (Because it is nasty and WHITE for godssake and will not get clean no matter what I do!) And so I spent many weekday hours pulling staples out of the wood floors with tiny pliers and thinking mildly violent thoughts about the individual who was obviously so very enamored with his staple gun when he was putting down the carpet pad.

On the other hand, I did no cooking that week.

Anyway, our summer is almost over. The kids start school after Labor Day, and I hope to pick up some part-time work myself. Clint is having shoulder surgery the end of September and will probably be lying on our couch for a good deal of October. I can feel Autumn hovering in the night air and it makes me so very, very happy.

Which reminds me to go work on that sweater I started for Benjamin.

Friday - {This Moment}

This week, filling out paperwork at the dealership, the man asked, "Is it ok to put down homemaker for you?" Sure. I'm proud of that. But I still pulled out the journal that came a few weeks ago when I got home. I looked at my name on the page. Some day, hopefully, I'll tell someone to put down "writer" when they ask.

Last night we were supposed to have black bean soup in bread bowls for dinner. Except after I sauteed the onions and bell peppers, chopped the chipotles, and assembled everything along with the dried beans in the slow-cooker, instead of turning the damn thing to HIGH I accidentally set it on WARM. You know, that setting that keeps your meal nice and toasty after it has cooked already. And then I went about my absentminded business and so, when Clint came home at 7pm from a long, frustrating day of work there was no dinner ready. BECAUSE THE DAMN BEANS WERE STILL AS HARD AS PEBBLES.

I am so epic.

Anyway, I was disgruntled and also sticky (hello, humidity!) and threw in the towel and we all got in the car and went to get a sandwich.

Clint has been having a lot of trouble with his shoulder, and will probably end up having surgery on it, but right now he's working through some physical therapy torture stuff and it was really bothering him last night. So he took one of the percoset they gave him before we left to go get our sandwiches. And apparently percoset really affects him, but we didn't know that. So by the time we got home, he was walking to the house with the dubious assistance of his arm across my shoulders, which delighted me and annoyed the shit out of him.

So I sent him to bed and brought him some water, and even though I failed at dinner and it seems like more often than not, it's that guy looking like a James Bond puppy-rescuer who is doing all the saving-the-day, there are some things I am best at.

Putting people in this house to bed is one of them.

Sometimes they do this, this half-hug, half-wrestle, chewing on each other's leg or ear. The kids do, too, brother and sister, fighting yet loathe to be apart. In many ways, I look at this picture of our pets and it seems to be the perfect metaphor of family.

Friday - {This Moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.




Summer rainstorm. So we made tea, lit a candle, and pulled out a favorite board game. It made me long for Autumn.

This is Nox.

And he was at our local SPCA. But now he's here with us.

I can't say enough good things about the SPCA. They do important work. We got Purdy, our border collie, from them a little more than a year ago now. She had been left locked in a bathroom with a few other dogs when the owners moved. We figured (with the help of our vet) that she was about 3 years old when we adopted her. And she is the best dog ever. No, seriously. Best. Dog. Ever. I can't imagine life without her. So we thought we wanted to add another dog to the mix, because she really enjoys other dogs and there are always great dogs that are waiting for home. I said no puppies, both because puppies are a lot of work and because I really pictured us bringing another grown dog home, one who needed another chance. But there was Nox, and it was love, and truly, he needed a home, too. And he's fitting in really well. It's nice to see Purdy wrestling with him, because she's never really been comfortable rough-housing with us. (We think her past owners were less than kind to her, so I'm sure that has something to do with it.) And he's a lot of work, but we're armed with some great training material, plus we'll be taking him to a puppy obedience class after his 3 month shots. And, well, he's lovely.

My husband's leave is coming to an end; next week he'll be back to work. This is the longest stretch of time he's ever taken off, and yet it's felt so short. Part of me feels regretful... maybe we should have stayed put more, tried to do less, just hung out with less distraction.

Things march on, vacation time can't last forever. We have swimming lessons to get to and a porch to work on and books to read and meals to make and so on. But man, do I like having him home.