I do love young people. They have convictions. They want to see a better world than the one to which they are born. They look for strength in numbers, because alone, they often feel small. They look beyond their back yard. They march.
My own morning though is more like that of a retired person: I go out... (foggy!)
(front bed flowers...)
(autumn reblooms...)
I feed cats. Call me the cat lady who fell into this role inadvertently. And I pull some weeds. And for breakfast, Ed and I go to Finca Cafe. With our computers. Because we love this leisurely way to share space and a morning meal.
Just after the noon hour, I do something else that no young person would bother with: I go to thumb therapy. Yes, really. If you have thumbs like mine, you'll appreciate small tips and maneuvers to make those fat little fingers work more efficiently. My thumb person herself is young and cheerful and she laughs at all my jokes as if they're really funny and in addition, she gives my hand a soak in hot wax, which is truly original and somewhat Halloweenish. (It comes out caked in ghostly white wax.) A half hour well spent, for any number of reasons.
Snowdrop is here in the afternoon.
We read and continue with the trip to Snowland game.
Later, as I drive her home, I ask her about the bad kids in her class (so described by her). I ask for examples of bad behavior. I'm surprised that the examples she gives me are of verbal misdeeds. In the Ramona books we're reading, the little girl is naughty in physical ways (pulling hair, destroying another child's art project). She says plenty of no-no stuff, too, but I can tell Snowdrop is fascinated by the behavioral outbursts, ones that seem very edgy to someone like Snowdrop, who has a better control over her own impulses. (I'd say that as a child, I was probably half way between Ramona and Snowdrop.)
These days, my daughter and I try to set aside a few minutes to sit down together at the very end of a very busy week. No kids, just the two of us. Tonight, my Chicagoan girl happens to call at this time. I sit back and listen to the back and forth for a while and think -- listening to your grownup kids talk to each other is just grand. I suppose it's not unlike when your kids first play together and you sit back and think -- well, now, this is just so fine!
Well, now, this is just so very fine.
My own morning though is more like that of a retired person: I go out... (foggy!)
(front bed flowers...)
(autumn reblooms...)
I feed cats. Call me the cat lady who fell into this role inadvertently. And I pull some weeds. And for breakfast, Ed and I go to Finca Cafe. With our computers. Because we love this leisurely way to share space and a morning meal.
Just after the noon hour, I do something else that no young person would bother with: I go to thumb therapy. Yes, really. If you have thumbs like mine, you'll appreciate small tips and maneuvers to make those fat little fingers work more efficiently. My thumb person herself is young and cheerful and she laughs at all my jokes as if they're really funny and in addition, she gives my hand a soak in hot wax, which is truly original and somewhat Halloweenish. (It comes out caked in ghostly white wax.) A half hour well spent, for any number of reasons.
Snowdrop is here in the afternoon.
We read and continue with the trip to Snowland game.
Later, as I drive her home, I ask her about the bad kids in her class (so described by her). I ask for examples of bad behavior. I'm surprised that the examples she gives me are of verbal misdeeds. In the Ramona books we're reading, the little girl is naughty in physical ways (pulling hair, destroying another child's art project). She says plenty of no-no stuff, too, but I can tell Snowdrop is fascinated by the behavioral outbursts, ones that seem very edgy to someone like Snowdrop, who has a better control over her own impulses. (I'd say that as a child, I was probably half way between Ramona and Snowdrop.)
These days, my daughter and I try to set aside a few minutes to sit down together at the very end of a very busy week. No kids, just the two of us. Tonight, my Chicagoan girl happens to call at this time. I sit back and listen to the back and forth for a while and think -- listening to your grownup kids talk to each other is just grand. I suppose it's not unlike when your kids first play together and you sit back and think -- well, now, this is just so fine!
Well, now, this is just so very fine.
