Sunday afternoon Daughter and I spotted this little lady* hanging out on our Phlox. She was busy sucking down pollen (or nectar?). From flower to flower she hovered, carefully sticking her Probocis into the middle of each flower. We watched, my arms draped around daughter as she gently flapped her wings and ate. What an amazing site. She didn’t mind that we lingered, she didn’t speed up her work or seem afraid. What a treat. For all three of us.
*I believe she’s called a Tiger Swallowtail.
A week from tomorrow daughter starts Kindergarten. Real School. With a capital S. I can’t believe it’s already here. I’m trying to embrace this last week. Her last days of PreK. Her last days at the center where she’s been learning for five years.* I am so excited for her to move on. To explore and have fun and gain independence. Next week at this time I’ll be a mess. I won’t be sleeping. I won’t be writing. I’ll be worrying and waiting and wondering. Will she find her classroom? Will she speak up? Will she laugh her glorious laugh? In a week from tomorrow I’ll watch her climb onto the bus. Find a seat. And hopefully wave as the bus pulls away. And then I’ll run like lightening to my car and drive to her school just as fast as I can. I’ll see her into her classroom and then I’ll wave again. And then I’ll leave. And she’ll be just fine.
*Same center, two different locations.
We all took the day off today and found ourselves at the ball park. There were brats and beer and cotton candy. Daughter sat in a large metal glove and swiped french fries from my basket. We didn’t get a foul ball but we had fun anyway. It was hot and sticky and soon we were hot and sticky. We left during the eighth inning and went immediately to the pool. Then we ordered pizza and lounged on the couch watching he Simpsons marathon.
Another perfect summer day.
What are you doing to capture these last few days of summer?
My 93 words today landed in a notebook. While I sat at a park bench. Scaring off squirrels. Sometimes ink and paper is best.
Do you leave comments on blogs?
I try to, especially if the post really means something or if there’s a question or action to follow. I know I don’t leave enough of them. And I know that because of the traffic here.
So, I’m putting this out there:
If you’re reading this let me know three things in the comments section:
1. How did you find this space?
2. How long have you been following/reading?
3. If you’re looking forward to fall tell me why….
(Mom, I know you’re reading, so you have to answer).
That’s it. I look forward to hearing from you! And Thank You!
I have been listening the The Moth on my commute lately. And I’ve become addicted. These people are telling real stories, usually heartbreaking or horrifying stories, live, in front of an audience. I can’t even get mine onto a sheet of paper that would remain plastered in the middle of a notebook.
Have you heard The Moth?
I subscribed to their podcast at the suggestion of a fellow runner. But I rarely listened to it. Now that I’m commuting, I find music boring and want something of interest. The Moth delivers. In fact, it’s so intriguing, I’m tempted to download this course from The Great Courses just to see if it helps my own writing.
What do you think? Would it help? Would it hurt?
My body is exhausted from the race this morning. I just wanted to get through the swim, I wanted to enjoy the bike and I wanted to fly through the run. My body had a different plan. The swim was okay. Lots of other bodies, but I didn’t panic and I stayed on course. The bike was smooth and I felt pretty fast. But it’s still stinkin’ long. The run was tough. Really tough. I think it was because I forgot to eat something while on the bike. I thought I’d have enough energy, but by the time I was running I was short of breathe and it was too late to eat. I choked down some water and told my lungs to forge ahead. My legs responded and I finished without a slow step. I beat my time from last year by 40 seconds. Considering how crappy I felt during the run that was pretty amazing. Every year I vow to beat my time from the previous year. At my age, at what point will that start going the other way?
For the past five years, since daughter was born, I have not worked on Fridays. I’ve covered for people, I’ve emailed and had conference calls throughout the day, I’ve even brought a laptop to swimming lessons so I could finish a project. But for the most part Friday means a day with my girl. It also means swimming lessons, impromptu pedicures, lunch with friends and selfies. We can usually be found cleaning the house, strolling the aisles of Target, or waiting in doctor’s offices. Having one day a week to take care of life’s necessities has been, well, necessary these last five years. In three weeks daughter will start Kindergarten. And she’ll go on Fridays. That’s going to be rough on her. Hell, it’s going to be rough on me! But I’m already booked to volunteer at her school. And I plan to get some stuff organized around here. And to walk the dog. And clean the house. And then right after school there will be swimming lessons…. because not everything can change, can it?
So, here’s to another Friday. And to five years of fabulous Friday’s with my girl.
Go have fun, okay?
It’s just three days until my race. Three days before I’ll stand shivering on the shore of Lake Nokomis and try to visualize the strokes, the turns and the hills. I will be nervous. I’m always nervous before a race or a game or sometimes even a long run. I’ll have to pee about 10 times. Which means long waits for the port-a-potty with hundreds of other nervous athletes. I’m starting to figure out what time I’ll have to leave now that I live across town from the start. I’m starting to make lists of what to pack. Of what to eat. Of what to NOT forget. Tomorrow I’ll pick up my race packet and place the stickers on my bike, my helmet, my race belt. Saturday I’ll pack my bag, put the bike rack on the truck, put the bike on the rack. I’ll load up on pasta and water and encouraging words from daughter and husband. Sunday I’ll wake up at the crack of dawn, head east and try to relax. It’s my fourth time doing this race, yet nerves win every time. While I try to relax, I’ll remind myself this will be fun. I’ll be surrounded my old friends and new friends. By encouraging spectators and screaming kids. And then, after I cross that finish line, I’ll be thankful for the early morning runs, the long bike rides and the laps in the pool. And I’ll be grateful that my 42-year-old body can do this with relative ease.
On Tuesdays nights the Ice Cream truck visits our neighborhood. Every Tuesday night. At 6pm sharp. Or 6:05 if it’s been a busy night for her. Last night was Tuesday. And last night at 5:55pm we went outside to find nine other kids running around the cul-de-sac. Nine! Their ages ranged from 4 to 9 and Daughter already knew most of them. There were the two kids that live right by us that she’s played with before. There was the 7YO who she’ll be riding the bus with who laughs almost as much as daughter does. There were the two boys, 7 and 6, that live across the street that will also be on their bus. And then there were the 6YO triplet girls who moved away just days before we moved in. The ten of them, split into groups of girls and boys, ran and biked and scootered after they were sticky with ice cream. The mothers sat on the grass and chatted about nothing, really. Just ice cream and cabins and summer and were the bus will be stopping in three weeks. It was a perfect summer night, complete with sticky kids and crazy puppies.