Month: September 2012

Flying and Dancing

They’re not sisters, but they often act like they are, and occasionally they look like it, as well.

Of the three of them, L and T are certainly the most similar. Full of energy, always on the move, ever chattering, constantly seeking some kind of little bit of excitement.

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L is a little weary to try something new until she sees someone else do it — like leaping from someone’s shoulders as they explode (as much as my tired legs can make them explode) from the water. She leaps prematurely at first.

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Then, after watching T do it a few more times, she gets the hang of it. Timing the jump is critical, and she flies into the air so high that I suddenly worry that perhaps it’s too high. Sure enough, it’s a touch too high once, and she lands on her belly — her first belly flop, and she comes up howling.

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Soon enough, though, it’s all giggles and laughs again.

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And as suddenly as it started, it stops, as a heavy, sudden shower chases from the pool. But why? There’s no thunder, no threat. The youngest girls, realizing this, understand the implication.

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“We can play in the rain!”

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Why not? They’ll learn to see the rain as inconvenient soon enough.

Drop In

Old friends dropped by on their way home from the beach.

Group Pack

A trio of giggles and silliness ensued.

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And as the two girls ended up spending the night,

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story for all four girls in the house.

I wonder when they’ll actually get to sleep…

A Nearly-Perfect Saturday

The Boy was merciful to us — kind, even — this morning, willing to trade another hour’s or so sleep for a spot in our bed. L, too, enjoyed a pleasantly late morning, so the sun was bright by the time I was grinding coffee and K giving the Boy his breakfast.

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With a start like that, what else is left to do to make the perfect morning but go for a walk. The Girl picked out a dress – always a dress — and the three of us took off, leaving K behind to have some ever-rare alone time. “She’ll probably just spend it doing chores,” I thought as we strolled down the driveway and onto our quiet street, but then I recalled how some chores give K a certain domestic peace. It must be the Polish blood.

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Our route took us by the once-proud, neglected home in our neighborhood that once set itself as the envy of all. The brick work around the place alone cost a fortune, and the addition brought the square footage probably over 4k mark. Now its brick privacy walls, overgrown with everything imaginable, are crumbling and yellow “Condemned” stickers decorate the doors like sad wreaths.

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I walk by this house often. It gives me a bit of comfort. Something of a nemesis, something of an inspiration, something of a warning, it teaches me to be content with what I have by reminding me that more stuff only amounts eventually to more dilapidation.

Today, however, it just reminded me of the amount of yard work that awaited me at home. As fall approaches and the sun lowers, the yard work always becomes more pleasant. There’s a different feel to the air, even if the temperature reaches the low 90s like today.

After I’d mowed, trimmed, carted, raked, and disposed, there was only one logical conclusion to the day: the pool.

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With Nana and Papa looking after the Boy — just try to tell them that’s work — the three of us flopped about in the pool.

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Sometimes more deeply than I would have ever expected from our once-terrified-to-get-her-face-wet daughter.