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Middle School Fonts

The first thing an eighth grade student does when he sits down at a computer to type something for a class project is click on the font drop down box and begin exploring the myriad fonts Word has to offer. Some have their favorites and go straight to them; others like some variety and have to figure out which font best reflects their current mood. Whatever the case, the resultant font selection is usually illegible.

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If you ever ask yourself, “Who uses Jokerman?” or “What use is Kristen ITC?” or “Does anyone ever choose SNAP ITC?” the answer is always the same: these are the fonts that make middle school students’ hearts flutter and bring a flush to their faces.

Recital 2013

Look at that big smile as she’s dancing!

Look at that big smile as she holds her flowers!

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Well, two out of three isn’t bad.

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Toddler Translation

I often wonder what E thinks he’s saying.

Sometimes, it’s obvious:

  • Why in the world did you just close the fridge?! Didn’t you see me heading straight toward it?
  • Holy cow, that’s frustrating! Can I get a little help here manipulating this [fill in the blank]?
  • No?! But I want to do that!

Sometimes, who knows? Not even he, I suspect.

Neighbors’ Neighbors

Our neighbors, it turns out, still have the same neighbors that foraged in our trash a few years ago and seemed able to get into our compost no matter now cleverly I thought I’d secured it. They were a bit shy at first. Indeed, they were so shy to begin with that I didn’t even realize they were “they.”

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But with enough patience, sitting facing the neighbors’ tree while the boy played,

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they began coming down the tree. At first, I only saw the parent and one baby. It wasn’t until I looked closely at the pictures this evening that I realized how much we have in common: a couple of kids, an old house, and rings around our eyes.

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They shyness continued, with one peaking out for a last glimpse of that strange creature with the odd black appendage that it keeps pointing toward us.

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By then, K and L had returned from the pre-recital ballet pictures and the four of us headed out for a walk, dropping the girl off at her friend’s house up the street.

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Such an odd little neighborhood. Most houses date from the late sixties, giving them either look of a tired maturity or experienced elegance, depending on the time the owners put into the upkeep. But sprinkled in and about them are newer houses, some obviously less than ten or fifteen years old.

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And then there are the mysteries, like the neighbors who obviously spent several thousand dollars cutting down more than ten large trees in their yard while their house has signs of neglect creeping around the doors and windows.

“If I had a few grand to spend on the house,” I laughed, “the last thing I’d spend it on would be the removal of trees.” Of course the large oak with the hollow, rotten core would have been a different story. Still, first on my list of priorities is our tired, tired kitchen, in need of a complete overhaul. A finished laundry room would be a pleasant addition, as would a remodeled guest bath. Cutting down a few trees in the backyard — what’s the point?

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But about this time,  the Boy began reminding us how late it had grown, so we returned to our house with the temporarily fabulous front lawn, the ever-tired kitchen, the unfinished laundry, and the beds.

Day’s First Experience

The prompt for today:

Write down the first sight, sound, smell, and sensation you experienced on waking up today. Pick the one you’re most drawn to, and write. (For a bigger challenge, pick the one you’re least drawn to.)

K put E on my chest this morning, and he woke me up with kisses. Doesn’t get more perfect than that.

Memorable Memorial Day

“Oh, this will be a memorable Memorial Day!” became the common refrain in the house as M, T, and C visited.

L is endlessly excited every time they come — “When will they get here?! When?!” — and often overwhelmingly depressed when they leave. They call each other cousins (Why not sisters? I know not.) and have a grand adventure every time they get together.

Their visit this time was short but packed. Sunday evening we hosted a pizza and movie party with Nana and Papa. M was practically tripping over herself with excitement, and the chattering in L’s room carried on into the late night. Yet still this morning, they were ready early as couldn’t be expected for more fun. For another adventure. L and I introduced them to the various “hiding places” we’ve found along the drainage “creek” that runs behind our house, but as often happens, E was the real center of attention.

The afternoon, the girls, practically falling on themselves with excitement, talked us into a visit to Nana’s and Papa’s community’s pool.

“The water will be cold.” everyone warned. “It’s been in the fifties and sixties at night.”

Still, a bit of chilly water is nothing compared to the excitement of the first swim of the season. The adults sat out; the girls jumped in. Perhaps that’s something of a harbinger of things to come as they grow older and we beside them? A growing reluctance to take risks in direct proportion to their willingness?

After M, T, and C left, we spent some more time outside, letting the Boy lead the way. The discovery of a great stick was the highlight for him; the discovery of virtually-flightless baby birds out of the nest was the worry for us. I managed to deposit one of the chicks in the nest in the turn of our gutter’s downspout, but the other hopped merrily away, into the street, its mother squawking nearby, trying to coax baby out of the road. In the meantime, E was heading, full steam, toward the embankment leading to the front ditch. K darted to him just as he’d turned around and prepared himself to sit up — which would have lasted only as long as it took for him to lose his balance and go tumbling down the embankment. She led him back up the hill to the accompaniment of the mother bird, still fussing at her own baby.

Two moms, doing their jobs.

Mirroring Life

Three girls in the Girl’s room. It’s Memorial Day, so they have the day off. As such, they do the logical: they play school.

Polish Mass

The best thing about Polish Mass: free, lazy Sunday morning.

All Day

Saturday morning, blue sky, cup of coffee, 10-20mm wide-angle lens on the back deck. A day like this calls for outside work: the three unfinished Leyland cypresses do too.

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Then again, the Boy looks spectacular, and I consider taking him out to hit the links, only to remember that I don’t play golf.

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Nor do I play tennis. My tennis racket has been pressed into carpenter-bee-launching duty and the only tennis balls I have are on the bottoms of the legs of the thirty-odd desks in my classroom.

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Such a beautiful day, though. It calls for time outside. It calls for walks. It calls for coffee on the back porch.

What such a start doesn’t call for is time spent waiting for someone to rotate my tires only to leave just as they pull my little Jetta into to garage, but that’s just what happens. And that’s okay. Not at first, but eventually — wasted time is lost time, and it irritates me.

Still, the trees are patient.

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By the time I get back to the deck again to take the “after” shot, it’s past nine. Dark, quiet, still. The kids are in bed; the day is over — only one thing remaining: document the day.

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And then I discover 147Trance’s YouTube channel, and before I know it, it’s past midnight. Technically, I skipped a day. Well, somewhere it’s still the twenty-fifth…