Between working late, co-managing a household, nightly homework monitoring and three days in a row of what feels like a cheese grater being taken to me holy vessel, I’m finding little time or motivation to participate in things like, the rest of my life.

But to get bloggy monkey off my maxi I’m going to do a quick n dirty post.

Spawn Time
Cakers was successfully launched into the 7th year our life together by a swim party at the neigbhorhood health club. ::The very place I met Cabana.:: I tell you, when it comes to managing 15 six and seven year olds, one large cake and a butt load of high expectations, a swim party is the way to go.

I was't able to get many good shots of the party. I used my zoom lens with the "action" setting, but the lighting for distance wasn't great. In the pool area, my lens fogged, which gave all the pictures a humid haze.

Even though it's clumsy and not well orchestrated, I just love this picture.

Maidens of Lemuria

This is Cakers and two of her bestest buds. This picture makes me think of some ancient, mystic place, minus the styrofoam water noodles, of course.

Yesterday fall finally arrived, in a glorious whirl of cool, color and wind.

After dinner I headed out for a walk. At the end the driveway, Cakers approached me on her bike and asked if she could come along.

And what a treat that was, on such a resplendent evening.

She rode almost beside me the entire 2.5 miles, jabbering. About 3 blocks into the jabber walking, she said, “Know what mom? Today in gym class, when I was jogging, I felt like a real woman.”

Good thing I wasn’t eating or drinking, or I may have spewed. After shaking off the immediate image of Bo Derek, slow bouncing down the beach, to Bolero, I asked in an amazingly brave voice, “How so?”

“Because I jogged for two minutes, without stopping. And that's what real woman do. Right?”

Whew. If only the feel of Real Womanhood was so easy.

Equal Time
College Boy is convinced that when he was about 3 years-old, I left him in a Blockbuster Video store and didn't notice until after I had driven away. Over the past year he has brought this incident up several times; in an increasingly accusatory tone.

It isn't true, of course.

Although there was an incident.
Which has been explained to him.
A buttzillion ways to Sunday.

As follows: We were leaving the Blockbuster store and I thought he was right behind me, but he wasn't, and the exit door closed before he got to it. As many of you know, the exit doors at Blockbuster do not open from the outside.

So, as he leaned on the glass door and started to wail, I darted out the second exit door and back in the Entrance. We were physically separated for less than 30 seconds.

But all he remembers is seeing the bottom of my reeboks, running away. And the crying.

So, in honor of his plunge into manhood, I made him a card:



The text on the front read something like: Now that you're all grown, I hope you can forgive me for what I'm about to tell you, about that unfortunate incident so long ago..

Inside: Get over it.

Knitting Time
I haven't been knitting much. When I've been able to prop my eyelids open long enough, I've been plugging away at this burp pad from the Mason-Dixon book.



The yarn is Cotton Ease. These pads are really fun, but not a quick knit for me. It's so purty, I find myself stopping all the time, to look at it.

Ass Time.

Labels: From My Loins, My Daughter Scares Me