Seventeen
This month is beginning to pick up speed.
I'm getting farther along with setting up my house, and was mentioning to some friends tonight that having no internet access probably helps. I'm sure none of you know what I'm talking about. (cough cough-addiction-cough)
So, today I was sitting on my porch with my cup of coffee, attempting to knit a baby hat (the second cup of coffee, after Kid A knocked over the first one) and the yard guy was cutting the grass (he's employed by the company that owns the house).
It was late afternoon and the sun was at that sweet angle where the whole world is suddenly cast in its best light, and the oak leaves that are scattered across our porch steps looked like Martha Stewart put them there on purpose. This neighborhood for some reason reminds us of the South, and it also reminds me a little of Detroit, and never more so than when the ice cream man comes around in his rusty black van. Like he did this afternoon. I know, you're ready to kill me, right? Because the ice cream man is coming around in the middle of November. We'll just have our Thanksgiving dinner and then run out and get some Ice Cream sandwiches.
Anyways, so I'm sitting there ignoring the ice cream truck, who seems to be hovering, and I'm not sure why, because I'm very deliberately ignoring him, thinking that my kids don't need treats right now, they are going to a party tonight where there will surely be treats (I was right, there were cupcakes). But then the yard guy calls up to me, and he wants to buy my kids popsicles.
So I change my mind, because have you ever heard of anything sweeter than the guy who is mowing your yard, who is only at your house because he is part of some landscaping company, running out to the ice cream truck to get your kids popsicles?
And then I am sitting on the porch with them while they tell me again and again how good popsicles are, and the juice runs down their chins, and it feels like this bit of extra summer ease that I did not have this past summer.
This world can be beautiful, sometimes.
I'm getting farther along with setting up my house, and was mentioning to some friends tonight that having no internet access probably helps. I'm sure none of you know what I'm talking about. (cough cough-addiction-cough)
So, today I was sitting on my porch with my cup of coffee, attempting to knit a baby hat (the second cup of coffee, after Kid A knocked over the first one) and the yard guy was cutting the grass (he's employed by the company that owns the house).
It was late afternoon and the sun was at that sweet angle where the whole world is suddenly cast in its best light, and the oak leaves that are scattered across our porch steps looked like Martha Stewart put them there on purpose. This neighborhood for some reason reminds us of the South, and it also reminds me a little of Detroit, and never more so than when the ice cream man comes around in his rusty black van. Like he did this afternoon. I know, you're ready to kill me, right? Because the ice cream man is coming around in the middle of November. We'll just have our Thanksgiving dinner and then run out and get some Ice Cream sandwiches.
Anyways, so I'm sitting there ignoring the ice cream truck, who seems to be hovering, and I'm not sure why, because I'm very deliberately ignoring him, thinking that my kids don't need treats right now, they are going to a party tonight where there will surely be treats (I was right, there were cupcakes). But then the yard guy calls up to me, and he wants to buy my kids popsicles.
So I change my mind, because have you ever heard of anything sweeter than the guy who is mowing your yard, who is only at your house because he is part of some landscaping company, running out to the ice cream truck to get your kids popsicles?
And then I am sitting on the porch with them while they tell me again and again how good popsicles are, and the juice runs down their chins, and it feels like this bit of extra summer ease that I did not have this past summer.
This world can be beautiful, sometimes.