homosassa, home.

in Florida, the fall breeze that had been dancing around us for days in NC was absent.  summer was still present as we skated across the gulf coast on dad's boat, the pup happily hanging his head over the edge, right at home with his new owner. 

donning snorkels, we caught scallops straight from the sands and sea grass, shucked them from the boat deck, then had them for dinner.  the ultimate fresh.

we drove home in a quiet car, sporting newly acquired sunburns and smiles.  a little part of me missing that big headed lab.

update from dad says "should have named him shadow, he follows me everywhere" and "he met all the neighborhood dogs. he's scared of the little ones." operation find pup a home, a success!

next ninja warrior.

Beckett stood at the bottom of the bounce house, thinking about (I imagine) the array of Ninja Warrior moves he might perform inside.  he settled on teaching himself to run up the slide like the bigger kids were doing, his socked feet slipping and sliding, fingertips just touching the top of the slide before toppling down to the bottom.  like a true warrior, he did not give up, and after unrelenting effort, he proudly accomplished what he set out to do, sat at the top grinning from ear to ear and then ran around the gym doing "flips" in celebration, legs kicking around, hands placed to the floors, pivoting.  a new style of break dancing, training for something big. 

reawwy?

outside with little Isabelle, she asks me "who came first, you or your mom?" spontaneously adding, "I rode in a limo once."  she tells me about a wedding she went to where there was no cake, then tells me about her mom's wedding, when she was still in the belly.  she tells me there was cake there, though she didn't get to eat any.  Isabelle asks "who is the first person in Winston-Salem?" then clarifies, "who was born first?" a question I can't answer.  she's fresh back from a trip to California to see her cousin.  she claims she's going back in ten days.  "one of my best friends just moved there," I tell her.  "reawwy?" she asks, "can I speak wif her?"

kid stuff

at camp hanes, I took a workshop titled "the great escape" by the fabulous Jen De Ridder which was all about keeping your inner child alive by laughing, eating dessert first some nights, breaking silly societal rules, wearing mismatched socks, and getting plenty of play.

it was such a wonderful workshop, I took it twice.

I get to play often, I'd like to say I'm pretty in touch with my inner kid.  And though some weeks (like this week) I feel swamped down with adult work, I always have those moments that make that stress seem to dissipate. 

These pictures are from my beautiful niece Emma's birthday party.  I love them, despite the burn effect on the film, each photo glimpsing in at the magical world of play these girls created, an innocent place, a happy place.

hidden cliffs

I took a journey up to hidden cliffs with some ladies and one gent, practiced patience, calmed my inner fire raring to race up the mountain, slowed my pace to match that of the others.  at first, it was hard, my body ticking and humming, ready to run.  but slowly, finally, I found myself encouraging those who felt like giving up with the guidance of Linda.  

we were rewarded with the view.  a rainbow beaming in the temporary sun-spot, the rock cooling me, wet from the rains. 

little mermaid.

my little mermaid,

this year you turned four.  the ways you've changed!  you used to be a little butterball, nothing but rolls for days.  even then you were fiery and independent.  I wanted to keep you that roly poly bundle of baby, but you blossomed and I've loved every moment of it.

when I come see you, we play house in your room.  you tell me the rules and what to say and how to act, and I mostly comply and laugh at your spunk until we are both tired.  we curl up in your bed and create stories from our heads about mermaid princesses and rainbows and the magical lands they live in.  you get embarrassed when you suggest the princesses have boyfriends, and take it back almost immediately.  "never mind," you say, "I was just kidding."

your silly comment reminds me that you will grow, and grow, and grow like Jack's beanstalk, and there's no stopping it.  you won't stay like this forever, and that's ok.  if we can't keep you this way, we'll instead water your roots, grow you with love and creativity so that you'll stand true and tall in the sun, proud of who you've become.  I'm so lucky to have you little girl.

our laughter kept the feathers in the air.

I have been silent these last few days.  not because I didn't have words but because I've been struggling for time.

Tuesday night I got to see my oldest friend, Julie, and a college friend, Julia, in Chapel Hill.  Julie was in town from California, where she just recently moved.  it was so lovely seeing them, they are both filled with such intellect and passion that the entire night was spent problem-solving, asking why a whole lot, trying to understand the civilization we've built up.

I am reminded of a time when Julie and I were wee little Freshmen in college.  we came up with an idea: what if the universe is a joke?  every time you laughed you'd get a little bit closer to understanding it.  so we made a point to laugh a whole lot.  I'm still not sure about the great answer to the universe, but I think the laughing thing helped anyway.

and ewes.

we pulled into our driveway, bellies full from lunch, and lurked in Max's car, laughing because we're both so silly. outside, the rain beat on the world around us, showered the land and our house, washed the fog-curtained windshield.  we watched for a while, then raced through the rains inside.  simple things.

how lucky we are to have each other. 

eclectic tubas, warm house

last night we ventured to my old stomping grounds of Chapel Hill for the lovely Sara and Chad's house warming party.  their place is magical, covered in art work and christmas lights.  I got to meet some of the family they've made from all the shows they travel to, so many charming people.  some people I feel I've known for years.

there was the most fantabulous live band by the name of Matt Owen and the Eclectic Tuba.  the photo above is miss Sara dancing during their amazing set.  I danced what felt like the entire night, donning a Native American headdress, warrior-paint, and "fireworks glasses" that turned all the lights into a spray of colors dancing around with me.  I can't remember the last time I danced so freely.  best night.  thanks Chad and Sara.

(these last two pictures were taken using the fireworks goggles as a filter.)