Rock To Wind A String Around

As happy as I am to be back in Cowtown, there are all sorts of things I miss about the Western shores. Good friends, abundant Ethiopian food, big trees, diverse neighborhoods—there was much to love. One of the things I miss most, is perhaps one of the smallest and most trivial—I miss the option to wear a sun hat without attracting attention.

I guess I should explain. In the Bay Area where life is lived outdoors, it’s not uncommon to see people protecting themselves from the sun. Street fairs and kite festivals and farmer’s markets are awash in straw chapeaus and baseball caps. Many women, especially those of a certain age, don a wide-brimmed number whether they’re at the park, or walking around the neighborhood. Being a certain age with pale skin already speckled with “twinkle spots”  adding a straw hat to my ensemble is second nature. Here in Cowtown, I am not among  head coverers any longer.  I’d like to say I’m bold enough not to be bothered in the slightest, but alas, tis not true. It may surprise those of you who see me in my signature black shirt & jeans assemblage day in and day out, but I prefer not to stick out. Despite my somewhat ribald past, I make it a habit to recede.  Wearing a big sun hat feels like I’m screaming, “Me recede?  Not so much”

I’m in the middle of the 1968 version of The Thomas Crown Affair.  Faye Dunaway has worn hat after amazing hat in an era known for eschewing  adornment above the eyebrows (a hat might hide that splendid fall of hair cascading down one’s back).  She looks fabulous (because she is Faye Dunaway–I know this.  Really, I am NOT a dope) because she is:  A—-confident–she knows she looks terrific   and B—-she knows she is protecting herself from further ravages of the sun (even in the airport at night!)

From now on, I may affect a Faye-like attitude.  I’m not so sure I can manage part A,  but part B will stick more firmly in my mind.   Look for me the next time you take an evening trip to Target.  I’ll be the one warding off the sun while stocking up on toothbrushes.

I’m planning to password protect my next post.  If you’d like to see fabulousness, let me know.   Just drop me an email or comment.  If  I  ‘know’ you, even if only virtually, I’ll be happy to share.

Tina, at Hearts Wide Open, has written a terrific post that seems to be winging its way around the internets. You can check it out here.

It’s food for thought whether you are an adoptive parent, thinking about it, or just know someone who has adopted. (I think that covers about 89% of us).

/..

Elliott’s first EOR lemonade stand was a smashing success. He made just a bit under 30.00 and seemed to have a fabulous time doing it. Our hostess sweetly placed Elliott’s stand at the front of the sale, so it was hard to get by him, and he is a terrific salesperson, so just about everyone bought a glass. The location, in the OldE part of our town, was perfect. Plenty of foot traffic, convenient to Starbucks on the main drag, and the weather was the icing on the cake—warm and sunny, but not too hot.

I didn’t make as much as I had hoped, but still brought home more than 90.00 for EOR. It was so nice to do a group sale–there were seven of us (and Elliott too) so there were plenty of people to chat with and plenty of merchandise to sort through. Honestly, I think I came home with as much as I sold (cute pants for Astrid–new drinking glasses–a xylophone, and a partridge separated from her pear tree). Not really–I did bring home all of my unsold merchandise though, so I’ll plan another tag sale appearance or do a little selling on ebay and craigslist.

The rest of the weekend was filled with the mundane (cleaning for me,  lawn work for the non allergy-plagued)  and the delightful–a baseball game,  a trip to the zoo, and some al fresco dining.  I almost wrote a post on Sunday about the glories of floor-scrubbing, cause I really do love it so (aren’t you glad I ran out of time to share?  how patheti-sad would a post about my OCD be…) but instead I made all three of you wait to hear of my devotion.

After another wordless wednesday post, I promise to answer queries about play therapy etc.

Nothing witty or engaging about this, but if you’re local and have a hankering for VAST quantities of sage or mint, get in touch to arrange a pick up tomorrow.  Sage pesto anyone?

A heads up for local people,

Elliott and I are hanging With Amy tomorrow at a multi-family yard sale.  We’ll hold it just behind the Starbucks, in the Olde part of town.   All of our proceeds will benefit our non-profit, Ethiopian Orphan Relief.  Elliott will also be selling lemonade at his Sunkist stand to benefit EOR.  He’s sure he can make at least 60.00 tomorrow, but I’ll be pleased (for him) if he makes it to 20.00 .   Since EOR people read here too, I’ll update  tomorrow with a grand total.

Nothing much to report here in Cowtown. Dry weather, after more than a week of rain was extremely welcome. We drifted to the chilly zoo on Saturday, and did some general cleanup around the house yesterday–my Mother’s Day tree was planted, and we noticed 2 stakes on the treeway beside the street, so it seems that our first family trees are on the way. We are all quite pleased at this turn of events.

Elliott and I went to see a play on Saturday night (Schoolhouse Rock Live). It was fun to spend time with him alone. We were very silly–changing seats in the theatre three different times (before the show of course) just because we could, telling stupid jokes,making an effort to entertain one another. When the show ended earlier than we anticipated, we stopped at Target before home and did the things we like to do–we ran through the parking lot (yelling “moon” in tribute to Astrid) and did a little wish shopping. It’s hard to believe that our life was like Saturday night for years and years until Astrid Meklit arrived. Not that either one of us can imagine life without her, but I did feel, most keenly, how much the two of us have lost and I’ve made a commitment to more outings on our own. With Albert gone all week, we really work to make sure that the two of them have time alone together–they might take a bike ride, or run an errand, or do something fun, like go for coffee, but we don’t make the same efforts for the boy and me. I know we get time together each evening once Astrid has gone to bed, but it’s not the same. Too often we expend energy finishing the day (dishes, schoolwork, etc.) rather than enjoying one another. No wonder we’ve both been so frustrated lately.

Lots of things I could chat about, but nothing that seemed very intriguing.

Tell me, what would you like to know. Really, ask and I’ll answer, I’m not beyond asking for help from the audience.

My little lovely–almost one year ago.

Yesterday was sponsored by the letter “T” for Tornado Warning. That was the sound we heard as we were gathering in the Family Car (the Family Car? yes, the Family Car—–I guess “T” also stands for Twiddlebugs) for a trip to the art museum. We traipsed to the basement instead, and talked to my MIL through the din. We left for the museum 45 minutes later, and had plenty of time to visit our favorite exhibits ( say “Teotuihuacan”) before Astrid needed a hasty exit.

Mother’s Day started beautifully–I dozed for an extra 45 minutes while Kool and the Gang made breakfast. I was toasted and gifted beyond measure over omelets and facon. Elliott made me a book and a card, and I was given a pink dogwood to plant at the front of the house. I was thrilled with my gift, and so was Elliott. Earlier in the spring, we purchased street trees from the city. Although we thought to buy four, Elliott wanted us to buy just two–one for his first mother, and one for Astrid’s. We had talked of doing something like that for some time, so it seemed like a terrific idea. 6 weeks have gone by, and the trees still haven’t been planted by the city and the boy has been a bit anxious. We’ve told him they’ll arrive when the weather is right (or more likely, when the city employees have fewer pressing issues to attend to) But I think he is eager to have L’s tree in place. When he presented the dogwood chosen for me, he was so proud to note that all three mothers would have trees at the front of our house. It’s nice to hear him talk of L–I am ALWAYS the one to speak of her first, so I think he’s making progress. He also offered to plant my tree—-as he NEVER offers himself for labor of any type, this also seemed a sign of progress!

After our trip to the museum, we stopped for Ethiopian food—-the first time we’ve gone since we came back to Cowtown. In an attempt to reign in our spending, restaurants were cut from the budget, so dinner out was a treat for everyone. Although the common plate was within Astrid’s reach, we scuttled the wheat-filled injera to one end of the table so she couldn’t grab it. As I reached into the basket over and over to pass injera to Albert and Elliott, the hope that Astrid’s first mother was able to do the same that day was all-encompassing. We’ll never know her, or be able to thank her for all she has given our family; we can never hope to share Astrid’s life with her. As Astrid grows, I will help foster a love of her motherland; as Elliott grows, I will help him negotiate his own relationship with his mother. It feels like too little, on a day when I have everything.     This was my 10th Mother’s Day–I’ve never felt so awed by the weight of it before…