The Part about Family
Woodworker, Ultimate Frisbee player, jazz band member, campaign manager, and the friend who takes people to the movies to celebrate a victory: Timothy.
Recipient of several full-ride scholarships to colleges, melodica master, member of the robotics team, and someone who gives very detailed and sincere compliments: Daniel.
Science and history wiz, a cook and artist with a ready wit, he says, “I love you” at least twice before he says goodbye each morning: Mark.
Painter of portraits, student, and the woman who finally bought some pizza from the place that is literally three feet from her front door: Paige.
The Part where I Reflect on Writing
I feel a latent energy to write, but when I sit down, the words are elusive and inadequate. I have flashes of ideas as I do the dishes, and I hurry to find a post-it note and write down a few ideas with soapy fingers. Later, when I have a minute to write, the words I jotted down earlier have lost their allure. I seem to have forgotten how to write good sentences and my ideas collapse as I try to express them.
I must be in a planting season, not a harvest.
The Part about the Snow and the Soup
The boys and Richard were finally able to go skiing, and they had a great time.
They spent most of the day Saturday moving snow from one place to another. In the end, we had nearly a foot and a half of snow fall in our yard. After shoveling the front walk a couple of times, the snow plow came and pushed the snow from the street so hard into our curb that it buried our sidewalk. People will need to walk a different way around our cul-de-sac. We can’t face trying to move that mountain of snow.
I made the menu for the week, and it included five days of soups and stews and lots of breads, berries, and brownies.
The Part where I Ask, “Are you still reading?”
Yes, this was a boring one. I know.