We left our mark.
It was good.
We left our mark.
It was good.
If it is Spring Break under The Big Top…
We might be a little damp but we shall carry on; or perhaps we shall party on.
I don’t know.
Mom’s done with her mandatory continuing education , including a little quality time with dirty-talking manikins, so time for some real Spring Break shenanigans.
Here we go!
It’s been a good week.
Obviously a good week because it was my birthday and because it is March and March is consistently a good time for so many reasons…including the fact that it is my birthday.
A birthday my favorite son forgot. Yes. He. Did. He’s still my favorite son.
My favorite son who just so happens to have some pretty good taste in music as he introduces me to his latest discovery. Yes, he asked me if I had ever heard of Radiohead…as we were together listening to Radiohead.
It was a good week to honor the strong women that my darling husband and I have raised. I can’t imagine that there will ever come a day where I am not in awe that these humans share my DNA…mine!
It’s the perfect time to save computer-simulated lives…
and wonder where the hell is the computer-simulated code team already. Next week is my date with the mannikin. I am certain that there will be dirty talk.
It’s the perfect time to warm your bare toes in the sunshine…and ignore the weeds…or, better yet, watch your darling husband and favorite son pull the weeds whilst warming your toes in the March sunshine.
It’s also the perfect time to drive around the Valley with the roof open …allergies be damned.
Oh, and let’s not forget Daylight Saving Time because, in spite of everything wrong with Daylight Saving Time, turning the clocks ahead one hour means after dinner walks with views like this. It also means that I am back in the same time zone as darling daughter #4.
For me, March is good, so very good.
Only those with tenacity can march forward in March. ~ Ernest Agyemang Yeboah
My red, itchy eyes and nose are telling me what my eyes can see in and around the 209; the Almond Blossom season is upon us. I do love the almonds! As for their blossoms, well it’s most definitely love-hate kind of regard. I hate how they make my eyes and nose itch in a way that all the Zyrtec in the world will not fix. But there are the almonds to come and, right now, how beautiful the blossoms are blanketing the Central Valley snowy white.
Driving to work this weekend, in the gusty, windy deluge of rains that was Winter Storm Lucifer, I couldn’t help but admire something more about those lovely blossoms. We have been slammed hard in a way that topples trees and causes hills to slide and roads to crumble and holes to swallow up cars. Our reservoirs, lakes, rivers and streams are overflowing with some spillways failing and a glory hole spillway flows for the first time in years – a spillway called the Glory Hole! Heh! Even in our neck of the woods a levee is in danger of failing and flooding parts of my own city for the first time in 20 years. Don’t worry, the new Big Top is high and dry…dryish…actually quite soggy but in no danger of flooding. As for the blossoms, the blossoms continue to blossom and hold fast to the branches on all the fruit and nut trees in all the orchards everywhere in and around the Central Valley. That’s a good thing, a very good thing because I do love almonds.
Almond blossoms sent to teach us That the spring days soon will reach us. – Edwin Arnold
Spring has sprung and currently under The Big Top there is Spring cleaning going on. Living with a circus act that borders on potentially the next episode of Hoarders, one can imagine how much exhausting fun that can be.
Let me tell you.
But with a list of stuff to address room by room by room on a list firmly affixed to The Big Top fridge…where EVERYONE can see it, things are slowly getting done…slowly because this circus act is a bunch of pack rats. Imagine the pain and suffering that is involved in sorting through ephemera that is old boxes that once housed cell phones from years ago, extension cords, mugs and wine glasses galore from art, wine and food festivals of days gone by, stacks of video tapes and games with nary a VCR or compatible gaming console anywhere…and on and on and on…
And a room with a toy chest and shelves that house all the treasures belonging to who was once a little boy…treasures long forgotten and ignored…until we spend a weekend beginning to sort through. We’re going to empty the toy chest sorting it all into piles I gently suggest…things that are broken…things we don’t ever play with ever anymore…things we want to save.
What about all the Hot Wheels and the Lego sets and…I can see all the stress and emotions as he begins to question.
Right now we’re just going to go through the toy chest in your closet. The toy chest you haven’t opened in three years I bet.
With relief, he laughs, More like four years.
A few hours later, we are surrounded by a large pile to toss, a smaller pile to donate, an even smaller pile to keep and an empty toy chest save for a few scraps of crumpled paper on the bottom.
Oh hey! that’s my name!
What about all these Hot Wheels?, he points out the plastic bins stuffed full of, I imagine, all the Hot Wheels cars known to man that are stacked on the closet floor.
I think we’ve done enough today.
Well…except for this.
Fourteen years later, a shoe box full of NICU memories finally on display. Just in time, you know to thoroughly mortify the teenager who was once the micropreemie.
A toy box emptied. A shoe box emptied. You can’t imagine how much was accomplished in spite of a boy’s room still full of so much growing up.
Spring cleaning, exhausting y’all! Emotionally exhausting y’all.