Zoe's Dad

Ed's Not Here--So Why Are You?

2009-11-05T15:07:00Z

There's a new post at Little m Long a. Just thought I'd leave a little note here for those of you who may not have had a chance to update the ways in which you follow the Life of Ed.

You can check it out by following this link: I Think I'm Gonna Take a Personal Day. As always, thanks for stopping by.

What Have You Done, Ray?

2009-11-02T13:00:00Z

I read somewhere recently that the fastest way to kill a blog was to take a break. And while I certainly believe this to be an effective method having recently benefited from a short respite myself, I've done the adage one better.

Change the name of your blog completely.

In fact, change the name of the blog and move to a different blogging platform. It's the blogging equivalent of hari kari. Though I read what is actually involved in hari kari and this is not quite as disgusting. In the purest form, not only do you get to disembowel yourself but a buddy then gets to chop your head off--just for good measure. (Oh, and make sure your buddy has a sharp blade. I read one account of a guy taking three whacks before a second buddy had to step in and finish the guy off.)

I'm just saying, if you're going to do something as profound as chop a dude's head off the least you can do is make it quick.

Where was I. Oh yeah. Twisting the knife.

I've decided that after close to three years of blogging as Zoë's Dad that a bit of change was in order.

Little m Long a

Please update your readers, subscriptions, notes, files, or whatever it may be that allows you to follow my crazy life. It'll only take a second and I would be honored to have you all join me on this continuation of what was started here.

Thanks so much and I'll see you soon.

Toasts, Warm Wishes and a Collective Sigh of Relief

2009-10-28T04:32:00Z

A toast is in order.

Celebration seems hardly an appropriate descriptor yet few other words feel adequate. We spent the past weekend celebrating the marriage of my wife's younger sister. She and her husband, my new brother-in-law (I've been calling him that for years) were married this past Saturday.

The entire celebration was warm, genuine and truly unique, a testament to both of their personalities. And in a classic twist, the bride and groom were able to transfer any wedding apprehensions, tensions or nervousness completely away from them and directly onto those of us fortunate enough to be in attendance. Especially those of us with children.

You see, the venue for their ceremony was in an art gallery downtown.

Now generally I'm pretty comfortable around art. My kids love art museums and we visit them often. Canvas and paint do not scare me. I am not intimidated by bronze sculptures or ancient Egyptian relics. Wood carvings, marble, stone. These things do not quicken my pulse.

Dale Chihuly.

Chihuly scares the living crap out of me.

The gallery was full of priceless Chihuly glass artwork, most of which were balanced precariously atop what I can only describe as inadequate pedestals. Well, priceless is not entirely true. There were prices posted for those interested in purchasing a Chihuly original. Most were more than the current market value of my house.

Let's just say I appreciated the brevity of the ceremony.

All kidding aside, the wedding, the ceremony and the festivities before and after were incredibly special and I'm thankful to have been a part of it. My wish for you both is that your lives henceforth may be as beautiful.

Congratulations!

Ball-DA-chee (I Think It's Italian for Best Seller)

2009-10-27T09:28:00Z

David Baldacci has written 17 consecutive New York Times Best Sellers. He has sold books in over 80 countries in 45 languages with upwards of 90 million copies of his works currently in print. This once lawyer from Virginia turned murder/mystery novelist is a machine!

David Baldacci sells books. Great books. Books filled with pages. Pages of suspense and mystery. His characters draw you in and leave you wanting more. Some less. So why, you may be asking yourselves, would David Baldacci need a lowly blogger such as myself singing praises for his newest novel True Blue?

Honestly, he doesn't. I just told you, the dude sells books. But he doesn't give them away.

I do!!

That's right, dear reader. The good folks over at Hachette Book Group have provided me with an advance copy of Mr. Baldacci's latest and I am offering it to one of you. All you've got to do is leave a comment to the effect of, "Gee, Ed. That's one of the nicest things I've heard all morning and I'd be delighted to be considered as a possible candidate to receive a copy of David Baldacci's newest thriller True Blue." Or you could just say, "Ooh, pick me!"

In any case, you comment, you're in.

Did I mention it's a signed copy of David Baldacci's newest thriller True Blue? No? Well, it is. It's not Baldacci's signature, it's mine. But that still counts as a signed copy. It's my little way of saying thanks for reading.

Oh, and on one or more pages within the book you may find some original Crayola artwork. That's not Baldacci's either. The book has been sitting on my desk for about three weeks and I've got several budding artists that can't be bothered with the restrictive nature of your more typical mediums like canvas, paper or coloring books.

I'll pick a winner later this week. Maybe this weekend. Wait! It's Halloween this weekend. Let's say Monday---ish. If you'd like to increase your chances of receiving a copy of True Blue might I suggest you visit any or all of these fine sites:

The Father Life

Booking Mama

IN SEARCH OF FATHERHOOD(R)

Rude Cactus

DC Urban Dad

Gunfighter

Mitch McDad's World

Poop and Boogies

A Family Runs Through It

They are also scheduled to host some sort of Baldacci True Blue tribute this week. Enter to win everywhere you go.

Good luck and happy reading.

(Disclaimer: Hachette Book Group was kind enough to ask for my participation in the David Baldacci book tour and I was honored to accept. I have received no remuneration from Hachette, nor do I expect to. The book I am offering is the copy Hachette sent to me. It's a fine read and in excellent condition---except for the Crayola.)

Southerners Don't Introspect----But We Will Watch a Movie

2009-10-26T00:21:00Z

I've learned precious little during the past three or so weeks of self-imposed down time. This should be of little surprise to anyone. I'm from the south and as a rule we are slow learners. It's our nature.

I'd love to tell you that I used the time wisely, introspectively evaluating my life and circumstances and implementing little changes to make me a better person.

But I'd be lying. I'm not that deep. Remember, I'm from the south and in addition to being a rather unhurried lot, we're we are also not given to much self analyzation or introspect. It's just not in us.

I must admit, while the time away was refreshing, I did miss this little blog. Until I took the time to step away from it I don't think I realized how much I appreciate the outlet. The opportunity to just release.

I also remembered that I had been tagged for a couple of memes and had yet to answer them. The responsibility has been gnawing at me, tearing me apart on the inside and I've lost countless hours of sleep feeling I've left these poor souls hanging in the balance.

OK. I'm kind of lying about that, too. But I have thought about it. So I'm going to combine the two and form one answer for both. (To my good fortune, the memes are similar in that Dan of All That Comes With It tagged me for top three movies and Ian of Single Parent Dad hit me with top 10 movie characters.)

Using my twisted form of logic I can extrapolate that a top on my movie list is made that way because of a particular character and if the movie is a top because of a character then the character must also be a top. Unless of course, the movie stands alone as a work of creative genius and would have been so regardless of the actors.

Wait. That doesn't seem to hold. I'm picking the character in the movie, not the actor playing the character. Is that right? Can I get a ruling on this one or should I just go with it? Maybe I've read too much into the question. What three movies would you like to see on the big screen and why and simply, top ten movie characters. I'm assuming there's a why involved there as well.

The movie part was actually fairly easy. I narrowed my choices by using this basic criteria: during a routine channel surf on any particular day or night and I happen upon an airing of this movie, would I stop and watch? These fell into that category without question.

3. The In-Laws (1979)

Vincent (to Sheldon on joining the CIA) Are you interested in joining? The benefits are terrific. The trick is not to get killed. That's really the key to the benefit program.

The original with Peter Falk and Alan Arkin. I can't help but stop whatever I'm doing and watch this movie (and laugh until I'm crying) any time it comes on. Peter Falk's character, Vince Ricardo, as an aloof CIA agent suckers Arkin, Sheldon Kornpett, a dentist and his soon to be in-law into an adventure that screams crazy from the moment the two meet. I can see little pieces of me in both of the characters, unfortunately a bit more of the reserved Shelly than the lunatic Vince. (I'm sure I'd get arguments to the contrary on that point.)

Second favorite quote from the movie (which is chock full of excellent dialog)---Vince Ricardo: Serpentine, Shelly! Serpentine. (I chuckled just typing that.)

2. Elf (2003)

Emily: You sure like sugar, don't you?
Buddy: Is there sugar in syrup?
Emily: Yes.
Buddy: Then YES!!

Will Ferrell is Buddy the Elf who travels from the North Pole to New York City to meet his dad played by James Caan. While just about any movie Ferrell has made in the last few years is worth watching and laughing through I believe that Buddy is what makes this one so special. Ferrell, in Buddy, is able to portray an innocence of spirit and a kind heart that has you immediately empathizing with Buddy all the while laughing so hard that your sides hurt. It's the only Christmas movie I'll let the kids watch year round.

I watch this movie and immediately want to play and laugh with my kids---that's got to make it a winner, right?

1. The Princess Bride (1987)

Miracle Max: Get back, witch!
Valerie: I'm not a witch. I'm your wife.

This is the kind of fairy tale that a guy can get into. Sword fighting, swamp monsters, evil kings, giants and heroic rescues. Not to mention more great dialog. Cary Elwes as Westley, The Man in Black, is the epitome of a hero. Confident but not too cocky, a master of swordsmanship and witty. He is driven by the one pure thing on this earth--true love. Of course it doesn't hurt that the object of this true love is Robin Wright. This is one movie I do not imagine myself tiring of in the foreseeable future.

Oh, and to tie em all back together, The Princess Bride is narrated by Peter Falk who is playing the part of the grandfather who comes over to read a special story to his grandson who is sick in bed.

The Grandson: A book?
The Grandfather: That's right, a book. When I was your age television was called books.

So there you have it. It was nowhere near ten characters but ten seems like such a large number and I'm kind of tired. There were countless movies that could have made the list, but off the top of my head--these are definitely the ones that will put an abrupt end to aimless channel surfing.

Thanks to both Dan and Ian. Sorry it took me so long. Oh, I'm also supposed to tag more people but I don't play fair. That doesn't mean I wouldn't love to hear what movies or characters would have made your list. Let me know.

Later

2009-10-01T01:38:00Z

And......

I'm done.

Because right now some things are just more important.

(Maybe just a little time to step back--get a better perspective.)

You see, from where I'm standing, all I can see is dots. Confusion and disorder.

And I'm fairly certain that there's more to it than that.

Peace.

My Blog Hates Me!

2009-09-22T22:11:00Z

My blog has turned against me, for no good reason. In fact, there's no reason at all but it has certainly turned.

Last week I posted an entry about Zoë yelling at a note Maura had left for her about checking homework. Here's and excerpt:

*Make Sure Zoë Corrects Her Homework, Love Maura

With school officially back in full swing, we are finally settling into someroutines. Namely, homework routines. To say it's been a struggle toget Zoë to buckle down and focus on her work would be a grossunderstatement. She has issues with focus. Some things she just feelsare

Several of you commented (which is always appreciated) and all was well with the world. Until yesterday.

I noticed yesterday that the entry had somehow disappeared from my blog. It's gone. No draft, no trace of the comments. Nothing. It just vanished. I'm kind of bummed about it but what do you do? There are worse tragedies, though I'd love to have it back.

So I've got a request to any of you who may have a copy of that post (for whatever reason). Maybe it's in your reader or perhaps you receive my posts via e-mail. If you have a copy would you please e-mail it to me?

I would forever be in your debt. OK, so not really forever. I could probably just rewrite the thing and file it back away myself but I'm too lazy.

I would be most appreciative, though.

Post Edit:
My brother had a copy!! I reposted the entry on the correct date. Unfortunately any comments that were left have been lost--but not forgotten. Thanks, Uncle Muncle.

A Glimpse Within

2009-09-20T17:54:00Z

Towards the end of last spring, in the final days of the school year, Zane brought home a styrofoam cup filled with dirt. Two tiny green seedlings were pushing their way from the center, barely visible above the dirt.

"What's this?" I asked calling to mind a similar offering from Zoë at the end of her first grade year. That little plant died a horrible death having experienced the extremes of sustenance and thirst. Heat and bitter cold. It was difficult to watch.

"It's a sunflower! We planted them from seeds in class and now it's going to grow. I'm gonna help it!"

I feared the worse, my optimism jaded by past experience, though I tried to remain positive. "That's great, buddy. We'll have to make sure to take care of it."

Take care of it he did. When the plant grew too large for the little cup he transplanted it into a larger planter at the foot of the driveway. Diligently he watered the plants throughout the summer. And incredibly, amazingly, the plant grew, continuing it's ascent upward above the smaller plants already mature in the pot. It thrived under the careful attention given from a little boy that knows of no other way than to whole-heartedly care.

Just this past week, it bloomed.

I have to say that there are few things more rewarding than to experience the joy of a child, proud from having accomplished. And I can't help but think every time I see these little sunflowers at the end of my driveway that I am peering into the heart of a kid that's filled with good.

Wherein Brian Finds Out Why You Should Never Ask Me to do a Guest Post

2009-09-19T15:25:00Z

I've got an appointment with a priest later this afternoon. I've got a guilty conscience and burning need for full disclosure. (I'm not Catholic so it must be bad!)

Brian of The Cheek of God was gracious enough to ask me for a guest post. He's been doing a series this week entitled Crazy! with contributions from a stellar group of bloggers--and me. You should check it out.

A caveat, however. My submission recounts stories of my past that may or may not be factual and most assuredly contains language that many consider objectionable. I have apologized to Brian and you have been warned.

OCD in Hypermode

2009-09-18T11:22:00Z

I found myself with a bit of time alone yesterday morning and decided to take a few pictures. We've been going to this church for years. I pass it every day. The church, not large by any means, is located in just such a way that it can be seen for quite some distance in many directions.

And it drives me nuts!

Any guesses as to why?

*Make Sure Zoë Corrects Her Homework, Love Maura

2009-09-17T10:45:00Z

With school officially back in full swing, we are finally settling into some routines. Namely, homework routines. To say it's been a struggle to get Zoë to buckle down and focus on her work would be a gross understatement. She has issues with focus. Some things she just feels are more important.

I get that. I, too have been known to stray from the task at hand. I prefer to call it multitasking. However, when it comes to her schoolwork, focus is a priority. House rule.

I try to check all of her work but there are other things that need my attention and at times, my job in that regard fails miserably. Fortunately, Maura is there to pick up the slack. Even on nights when she is working late she will make sure to give Zoë's work a good once over before going to bed.

The other night she noticed quite a few errors and left a note to Zoë enumerating each. She also left me a note to make sure that I went over the problems with Zoë before she left for school that morning. It's what she does. Maura leaves notes.

Zoë began reading the note and started correcting the mistakes in her homework. When she got to the second page she looked up at me in frustration, held up the note and said, "Dad, she's yelling at me in her note!"

"Welcome to my world, Zoë."

She started arguing, yelling at the paper in her hand, talking to the note as if it were Maura in person.

"Zoë, stop arguing. You know she can't hear you, right?"

(wagging the note in the air) "But Dad, she started it!"

Wanted: Proper Functioning Sniffer

2009-09-16T12:29:00Z

I have no sense of smell. To the best of my recollection I've never had a sense of smell. Well, this might not be completely true. I suppose there are a few things that I can smell, strong acrid odors, but they can't just waft. I've got to hold them directly under my nose. Things like gasoline, or turpentine. Fresh nail polish. Wait, let me check that one.

Yes. Fresh nail polish. But again--no wafting.

Ordinary or even subtle odors are completely lost on me. Perfume--nope. Flowers--notta. Soaps--nothing. I've never really considered this to be a detriment, just a fact. I. Can't. Smell. Fact of the matter, my little malady came in rather handy in my previous life as an ER nurse. Judging from the reactions of my collective co-workers, there are some pretty vile odors in the emergency department. Gastrointestinal bleeding, vomit, rotavirus, a gangrenous pus-oozing lesion. These things, I am told, really stink.

I wouldn't know. Again, I've never really considered this to be a detriment.

Until now.

Yesterday afternoon Zoë was coming down the staircase into the kitchen when she started exclaiming, "Oooh! Something's burning. What's that smell?! That really smells bad!"

To which I replied, "Zoë, that's not funny."

"I'm not kidding, Dad. Something smells like it's burning."

It's funny how when you go searching for any indication that your house might be burning--AGAIN!--your vision gets cloudy and everything looks like it could be smoke. (It wasn't. I just had fingerprints on my glasses, but it's a bit unsettling none the less.)

Maura, thank god, had not yet left for work and I summarily had her help me investigate. She confirmed Zoë's findings that yes something did smell. We searched. Everywhere. To no avail. Eventually, we succumbed and called our local fire department to investigate.

In no time, sirens were blaring, and trucks were barreling towards our house. A bit overkill if you ask me. Of course the chief countered, "They don't get to do it very often. You know they like the excitement."

The guys spent about two hours combing every inch of our home in a futile attempt to locate the source of the odor. The heat sensing infrared camera they use is nothing short amazing. But like I said--nothing was found. Chief's words to me before they left, "Well. Keep an eye on it and if you need to, just call us back." I think that was all code speak for, "Don't go to sleep tonight."

Before going to bed we tested all of the fire alarms to ensure proper working order. They do work and might I just say, are VERY LOUD! We even discussed and went over a plan should the alarms happen to go off during the night.

I am extremely happy to report--as was Zander this morning--that no alarms were tripped during the night. Our home is still standing, the odor is gone and we shall continue on, grateful to the guys of the Battle Run Fire Department who were here when we needed them.

I Thought I Saw

2009-09-11T04:40:00Z

Zander: Dad! I've got so many cars to turn over!!

Me: (Pausing from my duties in the kitchen to listen) Really? Why is that?

Zander: Well.. I put all of my cars in my backpack. Then my backpack was too heavy so I dumped them all out on the floor.

Me: Yeah..

Zander: Well, now they're all over the floor and they're upside down. So I have to turn them over.

Me: I see.

Zander: No you don't. They're in the other room!

It's not acceptable to punch a little kid, right?

I'll Wear Pants. But I'm Not Putting on a Tie!!

2009-09-10T01:07:00Z

I've got an interview in the morning. For a job. I prefer to think of it more as a recitation of the reasons I shall not be hired. There are many. But I've got some time to kill and nothing else significant planned, so I will listen.

I have absolutely no idea what I have specifically applied to do. Odd, yes. But that's pretty much how I do things--blindly and by the seat of my pants. It all started a few weeks ago on a whim, the result of a conversation I was having with the twins' preschool teacher. I had mentioned to her that the drive to and from school was probably going to kill me this year--it's roughly 25 minutes one way. The fact that Zia and the Twins have only half days (Ha! Half day. Since when is two and one half hours in the morning equivalent to one half of a day?) of school and Zoë and Zane get out only a few hours later the drive back and forth was a bit much.

There's only so much time you can spend in the library before you are asked not to return. They will do that.

I joked that it would be easier and more cost efficient for me to just get a small apartment in town and have only the one trip each day. She laughed and said, "Or get a job."

I punched her in the temple for the insinuation that I might be a slacker and she went on to explain that the after school child care program was looking for someone, that the hours had been extended to cover the period of time between the morning sessions of preschool and kindergarten and the time that the upper level classes let out in the afternoon.

I apologized, offered her some ice and asked, "So what do I do?"

"Just get me a resume."

And so I did.

So now, I have an appointment to speak with the principal of the school and I feel like I'm back in high school. Something tells me it's a courtesy for all who may have shown interest but then again, you never know. Maybe she will be able to at least enlighten me as to what I may or may not have inadvertently signed myself up to do. More likely she will be reprimanding me for the lack of seriousness with which I have approached the interview process.

She may have a point. I can not recall the last time I actually went to an interview. I have no clue as to how they work and I've got no idea what to wear, though I'm fairly certain tie-dye and Birkenstocks would not be acceptable. The last time I was interviewed, Whit sent me an e-mail and said, "Hey, I'm putting together a crack team. Wanna blog for me?" All I heard was crack and said, "Sure." I didn't even have to put on pants.

A Montage by Request (Because Apparently You Can Train an Old Dog--or a Lazy Brother-in-Law)

2009-09-06T14:11:00Z

Personally, I think schmarm is over-rated but you gotta admit, them's some cute kids. Here's a little montage I threw together of pics from the kids first days of school. Enjoy.

(My apologies to my sister-in-law who I made wait so long for these. Hopefully it was worth it.)

Bigger

2009-09-03T15:45:00Z

The evenings are long but not nearly enough. Silent and still. But likewise, not nearly enough. Fatigue has taken a stronghold and is poised, ready to declare victory. Of what I've yet to determine, still it rages on.

I am stirred each morning by Guaraldi but would prefer the sun. The sun gets to sleep in. There's things that need being done and I can't wait for a lazy ball of gas to illuminate the day. There's coffee to consume, lunches to prepare, notes to and from. Breakfast. Shoes to find.

Children who read and play games long into the night and far beyond bedtime do not appreciate morning reveille. My bugling is not what it used to be. It never was.

The excitement of the first days of school has waned, tempered by the fact that their waking hours are defined by light and by rest both of which are seriously lacking at such early hours. I'm tired, too. But I don't have time to be. My voice rises with each plea for them to.

"Please get up! We're going to be late!"

Today was different. A bit more buzz, a tad more electricity. Eager anticipation with a hint--ever so barely noticeable--of trepidation. There were words of encouragement from Zane. Comforting words from an older brother that knows. Who has been there. There were last minute tips from Zoë. Little things. How-to's and what-not-to's. Instructions from an older sister that would do well to heed her own advice.

Zia just shoved them and told them to stay out of her way. No special treatment from her but I suppose they didn't expect any.

Today Zander and Zella, started preschool. A milestone in a lifetime journey filled with stones and many, many more miles. They stepped from the house dressed in the new carrying their Spiderman backpacks. Their heads full of dreams.

The other children in the class were immediately friends and buddies and the classroom was their domain, their wonderland. They moved with confidence, self-assured and at-ease. There were no tearful goodbyes or clinging, no long drawn out negotiations. There was no hesitation, no cause for encouragements or reassurances.

They never looked back--they didn't need to.

They were ready.

Today, Zander and Zella started preschool and I can't help but think of Zane's words this morning to his little brother. "Zander, you look different.... Bigger!"

He is bigger, man. They both are.

Reach

2009-09-02T13:21:00Z

"Light! Give me light!" was the wordless cry of my soul .. Helen Keller

The true miracle of schooling our children, enlightenment through oration, erudition and rote memorization is not that they will learn anything but that they will remain passionately curious of the world around them.

Water Logged

2009-08-31T11:35:00Z

If nothing else, at least I tried. I'm not sure that's what they will say about me, whomever they is (are?). Though I'm fairly certain no one is saying anything about me. At least not to me. They, or no one, may be saying quite a bit. I just don't hear it. Or listen. But according to my wife, that's been an ongoing problem.

Anyway, I tried. I made a pretty decent attempt to keep track of the randomness, the ongoing bits of minutiae that is. You may recall, or you may not. (I suppose it's pretty presumptuous of me to assume that you would recall every one of my posts--though you should.) But that's what hyper-links are for.

Little memory joggers.

Like, if I'm trying to relay a little nugget and want to tie it in with something appropriate I would just toss a little word, hyper-link it and voilà! "The clouds parted to cast a true shadow." (That link has absolutely nothing to do with this post or the point I'm trying to make--it's fairly obvious to me now that I have lost my way.)

Back to task.

Last year, I bought a journal with the intent of assisting my failing memory. I felt that if I had a place--one place--to jot down some of the randomness that enters my head that when it came time to recall such nonsense, my job would be that much easier. Here's the link to the post. (This one is appropriate to the current post and has a nice picture of the journal. It will come in handy in just a second.)

Well, the journal worked wonders for me and though I did not use it religiously, it had quite a number of entries sufficiently long enough to at least jog my memory and recall certain things. I took the little journal everywhere and filled the pages with randomness.

I received a phone call last week from the lifeguard at the pool. "I think you left your journal here."

"Oh, great. Thanks so much."

"Well.....not really great. Remember that huge thunderstorm we had last night?"

And again, "Oh. Great!" (Intonation completely different--as in the Good Grief, Charlie Brown kind of Oh. Great!)

It's been over a week. The pages are still wet. And my memory sadly mirrors the pages of my soggy journal.

That's Not How Dad Does It

2009-08-23T10:28:00Z

I spent the better part of the morning wrapping arms. Casting arms, really. In some convoluted and seriously disturbing realm of the make-believe an accident had occurred. There were injuries. Possibly deaths.

A good medic turns attention from the hopeless and focuses on hope. Salvaging those who realistically have a chance. There's little time to mourn the lost. I didn't want the details. "Stay detatched. Guard your heart," I kept telling myself.

"You'll live to fight another day, kid. You were lucky."

"Oh, and the pink felt really makes a statement. It brings out the color in your eyes."

Zoë offered her arm wrapped in a paper towel and asked for tape. "I need a cast," she had said.

Now, I've got no qualms with a paper towel cast, but if you're going to have one it should be done properly. Batting. Felt. It should at least look like a cast.

And so went the morning. The afternoon was spent at the pool.

We hadn't made it three feet inside of the door when Zoë made for the casting supplies and ran upstairs to Maura. "Mom, can you give me a cast?"

"Sure." And Maura promptly began applying a textbook sugartong splint. (It's what it's called, seriously--she's a doctor, she should know.)

"That's not right!"

"Zoë, it most certainly is right. This perfect."

"Well, that's not how Dad does it."

"Oh really. Well I do this all of the time. In fact, I did this exact splint last night. When was the last time your Dad made one?"

"This morning."

Well there you go..

After the Rain

2009-08-22T01:13:00Z

Intents of an afternoon carefree and lazy at the pool were abandoned quickly. Lightning and frolicking in a 55,000 gallon electrical conductor should never be paired. Home, however humble, is always more appealing than death. It's 15 minutes, more or less, but sufficiently far for a fast moving front to pass us by.

To our good fortune, we drove to where the storm had been. We drove toward sunshine. To puddles shimmering in light. Kids scattered to where they were comfortable. There were no instructions, no expectations. Wet clothing tossed on the floor, a trail of towels from the door to the stairs. Insouciant disregard for order.

Games were resumed. Chapters completed. Art created.

And silently---alone---he rode. Slow and methodical on a continuous loop in the drive. Content in his own thoughts, comfortable with my presence. He never stopped to ask what I was doing, nor I he.

He rode.

It wasn't long before his little brother joined. Also silent. Equally content with whatever thoughts might fill the head of a three year old boy.

He too, rode.

The two of them spent what seemed an eternity circling the drive. Passing each other. Determined. Methodical. Silent. A silence broken only by the occasional convergence of tire and water. A chorus of cicadas. The closing of the shutter on my camera.

I longed to be inside his head--their heads.

I didn't ask.

They never offered.

I feel honored, though, to have been allowed the audience.