Moonspun Spins

Before I became a parent, I knew about all of the milestones, or so I thought. First walking and talking and going to school and such. But I have found some moments have taken me by surprise. Like the last day of kindergarten when Lil moonspun’s teacher and I hugged, both teary. Like when she lost her two front teeth one summer and the two bottom ones the next and she looked so different. Like when I put her on an airplane last summer trusting the folks at United to get one of the most precious elements of my life to and from California safely.

And there was last night, when my daughter, who will be ten on Thursday, got her ears pierced. We’ve been talking about it for a year. She wanted them done last year since Lil RP#1 (under objection from RP) had hers done. Both FFO and I were in agreement that she was too young and needed to prove herself responsible as far as taking care of things. We agreed she needed to show us both for a year and we’d let her get them done for her 10th birthday. (which is 3 years less than my original thought of 13).

When I think of all that lil m has done in the past year, just in my house, it’s pretty impressive. She’s worked to keep her room clean (although she will never be perfect I have realized), done a fair amount of chores and in the  past few months taken up fiddle lessons that require practice everyday. Yes, we even took her fiddle on vacation with us. And she’s just grown a whole bunch between 9 and 10. She is starting to look like a  young woman (goddess help me) and while she still holds my hand and sits on my lap, I can’t pick her up anymore and she is tall and looking elegant in a subtle way.

So yesterday we went to a professional jeweler in our state’s fine capital, a local guy who changes our watch batteries, made me a custom moonstone ring for my birthday last year and got our wedding bands for us. RP and lrp1 went to the local bookstore and it was just FFO and I with lil moonspun per her request. She was excited and nervous and very clear with the guy where she wanted her holes, he cheerfully changed his dots three times on the left side. She said “ow” both times, but now claims it didn’t hurt.

After answering dozens of questions about earrings over the past year and especially the past couple weeks when I set a date for the big event, it was over in minutes. And there stood my gorgeous daughter, beaming with her gold studs in her nearly perfect ears.  “Happy Birthday” I whispered, feeling a bit choked up, as she hugged me and said “thank you” Maybe this is one of the best birthday presents I could have gotten for her.

Here she is (although I know it’s hard to see the stud, talking to my parents last night and telling them all about it.

How cool is it that I have such a cool boss (right, that’s why I call him Great Boss), that I can go in his office first thing in the morning with a job posting for another job in the University and tell him I want to apply?

How cool is it that same said boss enthusiastically encourages me to apply?

How cool is it that after the end of the day I am showing him and he is editing my cover letter for the new job?

I am lucky. And seemingly an example of “be careful what you wish for.” When I commented to my friend that my job was boring…because well it can be sometimes. I’ve done it for 3 years and I was overqualified from the get-go. The BEST part of my job is when I work with GB on something collaboratively. That doesn’t happen as often as I’d like.

It’s scary to think about doing something new and I have no idea of what competition I might have for the job and if I’ll be taken seriously. And you know what? That’s ok. Because I realized overnight that I’d regret not trying more than if I am laughed at. It’s not the best time for me to try something new with my academics, but sometimes you have to seize possibilities, you know?

What possibilities do you have?

So while we are less one child, we are back safe in Vermont and before I collapse in bed after two and a half days of driving, I wanted to share with you two awkward stories from our vacation from my moonspun’s perspective.

Yesterday we met EE at a Cracker Barrel in for the trade-off of Lil RP#2. We had enough time to eat lunch before she arrived. Luckily (I think) we were seated at a table right in the entrance and I purposefully seated myself so I could see the door. I was just finished with my delicious bacon, eggs and cheesy hashbrowns when I looked and saw EE making her way to the door. She is about 6 feet tall and more of a plus size woman than I am, so she is hard to miss. The kids run out to say hi and all seems fine. I think, great, we can finish and leave.

What I did not expect was the hear my husband say “Oh no, come sit with us, we have extra chairs.” And the next thing I know, I am shaking hands with EE’s father, who introduces himself to me. Good God, I think, really? EE plops herself (this is an appropriate expression) down blissfully across the table from me, while her dad sits right next to me and Lil RP#2 sit in between them. She is polite enough to say hello to me as usual. Then is all about being mom in a way that I think is unnecessary. Like don’t worry kids, you may have had fun with dad, but let me tell you what I have planned kind of way. It’s bullshit. And honestly I don’t need to compete with her over her kids. I am not petty like that.

Lest you think this turns into a Jerry Springer type thing, it doesn’t. Because EE’s dad is very gracious and polite, even when lil moonspun and I are left alone with him and lrp2 for a few moments. But still, what exactly do you say to this man, who has recently retired as the national head of a large Protestant denomination whose daughter you think is one of the most un-Christian people you have met? Yea, you talk about the kids and he asked lil moonspun enough questions to keep her talking. Blissfully, the entire experience was no more than 20 minutes. It was hard to say goodbye to lil rp2, but a relief to leave the situation.

And awkward incident number two, comes courtesy of my father-in-law. So, while I might not have said it outright, while RP’s family are wonderful people by and large, they are pretty proper on one level. No one makes fart jokes (which run rampant in my family) if you know what I mean.

So it’s mid-week during vacation and I am heading up the stairs to the room RP and I are sharing to brush my hair and change my shorts. I can hear the bathroom fan on and wonder which of the kids left it on. I glance to the left and am startled to see my father-in-law drying off after the shower. Door open, and yep, there’s his butt.

Holy shit.

I duck quickly into the room and shut the door. I am brushing my hair kind of blinking at myself and trying not to think about what I just saw and thinking about how I am going to time an escape to make sure there is no more revealing. And also wondering to myself why, with 5 other people in the house, you’d not close the bathroom door.

I hear him pad across the hallway and go into his room. I assume he’s shut his door to get dressed and decide to make my escape.

Oops.

As I open the door, I am now treated to a side shot of my father-in-law naked walking across the room. Now I didn’t (thankfully) get a full front view, but I saw enough and that’s just not the picture you want to have of your FIL. Especially the invariably polite one who also wears bowties and pulls out your chair for you as restaurants. No naked pictures need apply.

Now I am totally freaked out and when I get downstairs RP has come back from wherever he was and I hug him and whisper what happened. I insist that he give me a glance of his “jewels,” the ones I know and love, so as to erase other pictures I might have in my head and pull his shorts out. He good naturedly obliges.

Here is a major difference between my family and the RP’s. First, I have no idea if my FIL saw me see him. And second, even if he did know I am pretty darn sure that he’d never say anything.

My family? Well let’s just say that more than 10 years ago, JB’s husband accidentally walked in one me drying off after a shower over a holiday stay at my aunts. The door had popped open and it was an accident. It’s still a family joke and everyone knew about it. In RP’s family, there wasn’t a single person besides RP I could have even broached the subject with. And what I really wanted was to have a girly sister-in-law to giggle with… oh well.

So there you go….some awkward moments from the Moonspun vacation chronicles.

Anything happen to you lately that counts as awkward?

Happy July 4th! Today is our last full day here before we make the odyssey back to Vermont, this time in two days. It’s the end of our time with Lil RP#2, who we will drop off with EE (one of my favorite things in the world is seeing EE *insert biting sarcasm here*) and then lil m, Lil RP #1, RP and I will head back to Vermont, but with the drop off, it’s not doable in a day without us arriving home at the middle of the night.

As I aired a time or two, I struggled mightly with lrp2 in the beginning of her time with us. On one level I still do, but I realized yesterday as she held my hand crossing the street and clung to my legs while swimming and even shared her Hawaiian Ice with me, that I was going to miss her. RP and I have worked very hard to create a comfortable routine that includes gentle and loving, but clear boundaries with her. My own fear is that will be immediately undone in the quaqmire I sense she lives in in Kentucky, but I could just be paranoid. It will be Christmas before we see her again.

This week was my in-law’s 50th wedding anniversary. That’s a big deal. Although as you might recall, RP’s mom is in the declining stages of Alzheimer’s. So how do you celebrate? RP’s dad was understandably insistent that it wasn’t a celebration without his wife. So after some e-mails and discussions, it as decided to have a family dinner while we were all in Ohio to celebrate. So last night we got cleaned up and drove 1 1/2 hours to Cleveland and had dinner in a private room at the retirement center where RP’s parents live (although my FIL lives here at the cottage during the summer) so that my mother-in-law could join us. RP and I were in agreement that the entire idea was odd from the get-go, but went with the flow. It was nice on one hand, but decidedly forced on the other.

As with other times we have been with his mom, I could see clearly across the room the pain on RP’s face. He loves and misses his mom so much that it shows on his face. And that’s a pain no one can take away.

The funny part of the evening, for me, anyway, was the seemingly sudden ascendence of RP’s younger brother, G to ‘head of the family.’ He took the lead on the celebration, which was fine, but at the actual event, he insisted on being the one to feed my MIL, lead the family in a prayer before the meal, directed us all around and made sure that everyone, especially his dad knew that the dinner and the gift had been “taken care of” by him.  I honestly was amused by it. RP’s sisters proved incapable of doing anything in relation to their mother and it was predictably my handsome husband who stepped up to help her finish her cake and ice cream.

But you know all families have quirks? I have learned and lived with my in-law’s for the past few years. Aren’t we all, though, more comfortable in our own known quirks? I feel like I am still getting used to these and after another week of vacation with the in-law’s I am feel pretty versed.  I have to laugh when single sister-in-law comes back from grocery shopping mid-week and makes cracks about the amount food she is buying. For the second year in a row she has been with us for the week. So I look around and see the seven people in the house and think….really? And I also have to laugh at the appalling lack of cooking skills by all of RP’s siblings. Which is not a character flaw, but makes me glad that my husband is not  only capable of cooking, but does it willingly and well. We all took turns being responsible for dinners, which for my FIL means we go out to eat. For my sister-in-law it meant a party size Stouffer’s mac and chese. Which is fine, too. Except I think that is ALL we would have gotten if I had not suggested garlic bread to go with it. And even in the execution, RP and I had to help decide if the mac was ready….yea….people have funny quirks….

In any case, the next time you hear from me, we will have made it back to Vermont and RP and I will be sleeping in our own bed…and that means some naked time too. Because the downside of staying in your husband’s family summer home with his family? Yea…you got it…no nookie…

But I love him anyway…

Happy fourth of July!

My esteemed cousin, EightofNine, is up today with a poignant guest post about her time living on Nantucket Island. If you are savvy noting her moniker, you’ll figure out where, in the pile of cousins I have on my mother’s side she falls. For some perspective, I would be FiveofNine, my cousin JB, SevenofNine, and my sister NineofNine. Although technically since Bob, her beloved brother, died last year there are only eight of us now…that doesn’t change the birth order. In any case, Eight shares with us some poignant and heartwarming stories from her childhood.

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When I was 10, I lived on Nantucket Island.

Now, you’d think being able to say that would be awesome … but before anyone gets too excited, let me be very clear up front.  IT…WAS…AWFUL.  The most awful time of my life, in fact.   First of all, I was 10 when we moved there and 13 when we left.  Regardless of location, at that age little girls turn into bitches from hell and boys aren’t much better.  Then add in the fact that it was a small, island community, which meant there was a very exclusive attitude among the locals; you were either born on the island (and therefore known as an “on-islander”) or you weren’t (and were therefore the dreaded “off-islander”).  The famous example that highlights this well is the 80 year old woman who had moved to the island when she was 2 months old and never left the island again.  When she died, her obituary said, “A Hyannis woman …”  You get the point.  Strike 3 against my sister and I was that our dad was the police chief.  Should someone actually be open-minded enough to look past my inherent 10-year-old dorkiness and my off-island cooties, they certainly wouldn’t want to brave the possibility of including me in something cool (i.e. illegal and/or immoral) with the risk of it getting back to “The Chief”!

So, suffice it to say, our move to the island did not turn out at all the way we envisioned after reading all about it in the kids’ book called “Nantucket Summer”.  We arrived to a small, dreary, exclusionary, unwelcoming place.  THERE IS NO MALL!!!  The stores are all geared towards tourists, filled with whimsical items covered in whales.  The excitement of back-to-school shopping was replaced with an afternoon trip to the Sears catalog store (which is not really a store, just a room filled with a bunch of catalogs from which we’d pick out our school clothes).  And worst of all … the seaside climate meant that it hardly ever snowed.  It got colder than heck to be sure … but snowstorms were rare and couldn’t begin to put a dent in the awesome piles of snow we left behind in our old hometown in Maine.  How depressing to hear school is canceled because there’s a snow day!  Only to find out that snow days on Nantucket are called because the bus drivers don’t know how to drive on a half inch of snow.  And running outside to make a snowman only to find muddy slush that was already well on it’s way to being history.

So what is one to do in such an awful environment?  Well, my sister and I did what we’ve always done to get by.  We stuck together and tried to find the good.  It wasn’t always bad … we had a nice church where we learned how to play the bells and joined a marionette group where we’d make our own puppets and put on shows.  I made a true friend (who I was delighted to re-discover on Facebook this year!) that I could spend hours doing silly things with like making homemade Barbie clothes with or pulling on marshmallows until they turned into Fluff.

BUT … the real saving grace was THE SUMMER …

Talk about a change.  Back then the winter population of around 5,000 people would swell to around 50,000 in the summer.  For a kid that spent her days wishing she were invisible, this was a dream come true!  Every single day my mother would drop me and my sister off at Jetties Beach at 9am and pick us up at 3pm.  We would spend the day at the beach surrounded by other off-islanders that didn’t give a hoot our dad was the police chief.  We’d walk out on the jetty until the water spilled over the rocks making them more underwater than not.  We’d body surf and run to the blanket for kool-aid to wash the salt water out of our throats and noses after the inevitable big wave would toss us into somersaults and spit us back out on the shore.  On weekends my parents would take us to big beach parties with their friends.  For those parties we had to let air out of the car tires to be able to drive on the sand far down the beach  … to get to where there were lobsters and clams being cooked, and corn on the cob soaking in sea water – to be tossed on the grill later and come out tasty and pre-salted.  The best part of those parties was that my dad (who was usually off working so we didn’t see nearly as much as our boring old mom) would let us come out into the ocean with him and his friends and tread water way over our heads.  When our legs got tired we could just clamp onto him and feel safe and secure, the way only a dad can make you feel.  Summer was also when my sister and I met Gunny, the old geezer who ran the corn-mill windmill museum across the street from the first house we lived in.  It was a real working windmill that spun a mill inside that would grind corn into cornmeal that was then put up for sale.  We learned important windmill history (what “3 sheets to the wind” means for instance) and how to work the mill.  Gunny would even sometimes let us give the tours to the tourists.

Most of all though, what saved us during those years was THE COUSINS!  Many of you have read Moonspun’s post about Gram’s, the hub and center of our lives as children.  What’s awesome is that Gram’s is not just a place, but a feeling.  The 9 cousins and the parents we came from formed a core of people that felt like a single unit, and there was (and still is) a sense of comfort, belonging and security when we all get together.  The family have always been good about coming to visit us no matter where we lived, but I’m sure it wasn’t tough for any of them to spend some summer days visiting us on an island that many people can’t afford to go on vacation to.  Having any of our cousins visit always felt like a holiday, but never more so when it involved lazy days of summer, trips to the beach, turns in the outdoor shower to wash off salt and sand, and many many clambakes (where everyone would take a turn shoving things in my face in a vain attempt to convince me not to hate seafood).  Or a bunch of us girl cousins giggling long into the night as we sat crowded around the single fan in the room (one of those honkin’ big square ones mind you, not the squinty little oscillating things we have today).  I have fond memories of meandering through those same quaint tourist-oriented shops with my cousins, pointing out the patchwork pot-holders my sister and I made that my mom had arranged for us to sell on consignment, and dragging the whole family to the ice cream shop for the “Altar Rock” – an enormous family-sized sundae that had 14 scoops of ice cream, each of which could be a different flavor!  And of course none of us will ever forget standing waist deep in the water at the beach and our cousin CF yelling “Hey!  Who threw mud at me?” and us all falling into the water in hysterics when she turned around to show us the enormous blob of seagull shit that had just landed on her shoulder!

So despite the fact that the summers were just a small percentage of the time we actually spent there, they were filled with enough wonderful memories to take the edge off the rest of it all.  I have some wonderful experiences and some great stories to tell.  I can say to people “I used to live on Nantucket…” and have fun watching what kind of reaction I get.  I still have my little blue makeup bag with whales on it, and the shoplifting skills I honed on the island (although those don’t really get much use these days).  So all in all I guess it was okay.

But I still refuse to eat Pepperidge Farm Nantucket cookies or drink Nantucket Nectars juice.  A girl has to draw the line somewhere.

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And I’ll have to add to EightofNine’s thoughts about summer in Nantucket from being one of the visiting cousins. I remember the outdoor shower and how cool it was, days at the beach, discovering what happens when a horse gets excited (those things get BIG) and I’ll admit that I was part of the shoplifting spree which was pretty much a once in a lifetime experience from me. What? My favorite uncle was the CHIEF of police…I was immune from being arrested wasn’t I? Well, thank goodness I didn’t have to find out. I did fell terribly guilty and had he found out, I know I would have died from the disappointment in his eyes.

In any case….thanks again EightofNine for sharing your heartfelt story….

I’ll admit that my yankee (meaning northern New England) bias makes me naturally suspicious of states like Nebraska. I mean, really do people LIVE there? But my guest poster today, Nej, sure does with her hubby Mot. And she blogs about their life and takes very cool pictures. I’ve had some great offline conversations with her and love her bubbly personality and if I was ever IN Nebraska for any reason, I would for sure be looking her up! I was thrilled when she responded right away for my guest post request.  It’s a great 4th of July story….

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When I was a kid, my family was close with our neighbors to the east.  They had three kids, all of them older than my sister and I.  The youngest of the three was named….um…let’s call him Bill.

I think ‘Bill’ was a Senior when I was a freshman, or something like that.   Our houses were backed up to a wooded area.  My sister and I would spend our summer days hanging out in the woods, running through the trees, building forts, raking paths in the leaves…..you know, kid stuff.

Bill would (if his friends weren’t around to see him) come and hang out with us…building the forts, and raking the paths in the leaves.

Bill’s parents (we’ll call them Harry and Sally) hosted a 4^th of July party every year.  It was usually a good time, but one year, in particular, stands out in my mind.

Bill and his two older siblings (both sisters) were put in charge of buying all the fireworks for the party that year.  Because most of the “fun” fireworks weren’t legal to sell in Iowa, the three of them were tasked with driving to Missouri to score some “good stuff”….and they didn’t let anyone down.

I distinctly remember two HUGE duffle bags, brimming with explosives. 

Bill, a couple of his buddies, and a boyfriend of one of the older sisters all thought it would be a good idea to start the night out with the roman candles.

Now, with these boys, roman candles weren’t for shooting into the sky…nope…they were for shooting at each other.

Imagine, if you will, garbage can lids as shields.

(You know…the more I think about it, the more it reminds me of my hubby and his brothers.)

So…there they were…the battle in full swing.  I was sitting on the hill that went down from our yard into theirs – perfect stadium seating for the gladiator-type event going on.

Fire was exploding from the candles in their hands…and they were giggling like school girls at a junior high dance.

One of the shots missed it’s target.

I saw where it landed.

I froze.

Everyone was so loud, I knew my shouts wouldn’t be heard.

I got up and started waving my arms.

No one noticed.

I jumped up and down.

People started noticing.

I waved my arms more frantically and started yelling.

More people turned their attention to me.

Finally, Bill saw where I was looking….and HE froze.

Then HE started waving his arms.

Then HE started jumping up and down and shouting.

The missed shot didn’t hit its intended target, but it DID hit another target.  A much more exciting target.

A very well placed shot.

Right into one of the open, brimming full duffle bags of fireworks.

At that moment, people started running for cover.  Fireworks shot in all directions.

They plinked against the house…they bounced down the street…they shot into trees and bushes…the made bangs, pops, and fizzling noises.

One ignited the second duffle bag sitting right beside the first.

In a matter of minutes, both duffle bags, now shredded from the blasts, were nearly empty.

The flashes of light and whistling of projectiles had grown fewer and further between.

Party guests, hiding behind trees, cars, and even one or two behind the gas grill (maybe not the best place to take cover) started standing up and walking back into the yard.

There may not have been any fireworks after it got dark that night…but no one minded.  What a show!!!!!

“I am sorry, Mama,” she said when she parked the aqua banana seat bike she rides here in front of the cottage and took off her helmet. “Are you mad?”

She approached me as I sat on the dark stoop. It was 10:15 and just 15 minutes ago had found me riding around town looking for my nearly 10-year old daughter. I’d known she was safe, this is the kind of place where you are safe. I just didn’t know WHERE she was and not being able to find her in the dark had nearly undone me.

Earlier in the day I had found myself stirred with emotion as she had kissed me happily and left the cottage alone with her small handmade purse given to her by my mom filled with spending money. She had asked if she could go buy the kite she had showed me earlier. I had said  yes and watched her bound off toward town alone the lake front path. And I felt that gut-wrenching pull of parenting. She had bounded back sometime later to tell me about buying it and how she had flown it off the dock all by herself. I was proud that she was confident enough to do that. But I was sad as I saw earlier parts of my lil moonspun drift away. And I felt a shift….

As I held out my arms silently on the dark stoop for her this breezy summer night, I whispered “No, honey I am not mad.” And I choked “But I was scared because I didn’t know where you were.” And nearly instantaneously we both dissolved in tears. We hugged and clung to each other in a way that acknowledged these new steps she is taking, the young woman she is becoming. We are both scared. We are both excited on some level. It’s new.

And when the tears dried up she told me about what she and her step cousins (I guess that is what they are…they are the sons of RP’s first cousin) had done and how much fun they had had together and how they were going to hang out together. She admitted she might have a crush on one (that’s ok, right, no blood relation?) and how she knew when it got dark she needed to come home.

I brushed her still-damp hair out from the day of swimming, sailing, crafts, kite-flying, bike riding, walking and just hanging out as she brushed her teeth. And I marveled at the wonder she is and the wonder she is becoming. I am grateful that through RP’s family we have this wonderful, safe place to come to in the summer where the kids can be kids. Where lil moonspun can learn new lessons of responsibility and grow. And where she will still (for now anyway) walk down the street holding my hand.

My little girl isn’t so little anymore and I’ve got to go with the flow. For now, though, she’s got to be back to the cottage by dark….I can only let go so much in one vacation.

To start off my vacation week of posts is a classic from my good friend, Mumma Boo. I can always count on her to be there for me in many ways and not just when I ask her to guest post. But I think you’ll agree that the following is classic Mumma Boo, funny, a bit snarky, and mixed with a whole bunch of  truth…

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The Top Five Best & Worst Things About Summer

Ah, summer.  Lazy days, warm nights, broken screens, mosquito bites.  What’s not to love?  Because I’m an optimist, let’s get the worst over first and end on a high note.

The top 5 Worst Things About Summer are:

#5.  Sunscreen.  Oh how I loathe this daily ritual of slathering on goop to ensure that neither I nor my children resemble crispy bacon bits by the end of the day.

#4.  Bug spray.  Another necessary evil to ensure that none of us are feasts for the flying beasts that inhabit the backyard.

#3.  Other kids in the neighborhood.  Just because I’m out in the backyard does not mean that YOU are invited over to play in it, too.  Stay in your own damn yard with your own damn family.  If I wanted you here, I’d ask.  Go away.

#2.  Mosquitoes that have somehow made it past my lines of defense and attack while I’m sleeping.   You play dirty, you winged peckerheads.

#1.  The ice cream truck.  That bastard turns up everywhere.  No, I am not going to pay $3 for Dora on a stick.  Go away.

The top 5 Best Things About Summer are:

#5.  Swimming!!

#4.  Sleeping past 6:30 AM and not having to worry about catching the bus for 2 whole months!

#3.  Barbecues!!  (A steak, a steak, my kingdom for a steak!)

#2.  Summer camp!!!

#1.  Getting together with friends, both old and new, and making great memories* for us and our kids.

*(Memories that don’t include Dora on a stick.  Unless she’s made of marshmallows and we’re roasting her over an open flame.)

Thanks, Moonspun for the opportunity to guest post again.  Have a wonderful time on vacation!!

It seems like time is moving right along and so is life…

Right now we are in a countdown to our vacation at Lakeside, which seems like it is a family tradition as it is our third year in a row spending a week at Lake Erie with RP’s dad and entire family. Well, most of the week is spent just with his dad and then the whole family comes in at some point to see us. This year we have made it easy for them by being there over the July 4th holiday, which is a time they usually gather together anyway.

So at 4 am on Saturday, RP and the girls and I will pile into our minivan, which is sure to be loaded with backpacks and food galore and drive the 14 hours west. The good thing is that we will arrive for dinner and be able to relax in Lakeside on Saturday night.

The tricky thing before then goes beyond just packing for vacation, which can be daunting enough. Our house is being rented out (as a backup for our friends who own a local conference center/cottage rental business) and thus needs to be not just clean, but immaculate when we leave. And there are multiple people staying so we need to make sure there are enough towels and sheets and that the dog sitter knows where and how to pick up damn dog on July 2nd.  So it may be that RP and I don’t sleep a huge amount Friday night.

While I will be on vacation from work for ten days (which a good thing) I am not on vacation from my academics. Even better, I’ve got a paper due July 4th. I am sure I will get it down well ahead of that as I’d like to enjoy the holiday weekend, but I’ll be spending some hours by the lake deep in military history. I do have some guest posts lined up, but as I’ll have my computer with me, you’ll hear a mid-vacation report from me as well.

I’ve been lucky this week that work-wise there hasn’t been a whole lot for me to do. Because the students who are graduating in my program this year are on campus for their one-week residency (which I’ll do next year) and my Great Boss has been totally fine with me spending my mornings going to presentations. Monday I went to one on research that made me feel like my 50 page paper I will be writing in the fall is very doable. It was awesome! Yesterday I had lunch with my first professor in the program (I had him last summer) and who is also the assistant program director whom I’ve talked to alot over the past few months about various issues. He lives in Missouri, so it was nice to see him face to face.

I have not been great about keeping up on everyone’s blogs and I am sorry. Summer and the kids and the academics  have been alot for me. Even though I knew this was coming!

Lil moonspun and Lil rp#1 are in a baseball camp together this week. Its run by our local college league baseball team and they are having a great time. They are two of only a handful of girls and yesterday lrp1 won the sliding contest for the whole camp. Girl power!

Tonight lil moonspun crosses over another milestone in her life. She moves from being a brownie to a junior girl scout. Brown to green vest now!

Hope your summer is going well…..

“Bless The Broken Road”

I think about the years I spent just passing through
I’d like to have the time I lost and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You’ve been there you understand
It’s all part of a grander plan that is coming true

Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart they were like Northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

Now I’m just rolling home
Into my lover’s arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you.

Today RP has been my husband for 2 years. I am so blessed and so loved….thank goodness!

Happy Solstice and my dad’s 71st birthday, too!