Hello Tuesday

Ah yes, a new morning and a new lease on life. Sorry for being such a whiny downer yesterday. I'm sincerely not looking forward to this trial and the sadness it will bring upon my mother. Plus, all the other little boo hoos. Vocal bandaids help.

I awoke this morning to news from the neighbor that Winky Spot is indeed lurking about the premises, spotted just last night sniffing around their stoop. As I headed out the back door, I noticed my wee little knight Wiggle II is getting strength in his good leg and was on his perch beside Snow White a good minute or two before losing his balance and toppling down. It was only once I stepped outside that I was able to see the backyard clearly.

It looks like the set on an old pirate movie... little holes dug up here and there throughout the yard. Unfortunately, the Hub hasn't been out there tracking the X that marks the spot at the end of a gold-filled rainbow, but rather trying to fix a million and one leaks in an irrigation system that was haphazardly built. Again, I thanked my lucky stars that I'm married to a man who knows how to fix things. I can't imagine what a nightmare home ownership would be if you were forever at the mercy of plumbers and landscapers and handymen. I know some part of him loves to get his hands dirty and work. The labor is a nice bookend to sitting at a desk inside all day, crunching numbers and building spreadsheets. I know there is another part of him that gets things done to impress me... to make me happy. But I also know there's a part of him that feels overwhelmed by a To Do list that never seems to grow shorter but rather everyday bloats on itself and becomes more and more monster movie-ish. The Sprinkler That Drowned San Antonio. The Attack of The Cracked Toilet Seal. Perhaps, this week we should celebrate Husband's Day instead of Father's Day by throwing a giant parade where beer shoots out from giant broken water mains and soaks half clad cheerleaders. Though the Hub would probably more enjoy an afternoon to himself to read a book, eat popcorn and drink a Dr. Pepper, semi-flat.

Which leads me to the other man in my life. I doubt I've mentioned recently that the Bub is going through a fabulous four faze. He has been a complete and utter angel. Listening and participating and truly being a partner in crime. After that first week of unrest, the summer has been a dream. His phonics class was spectacular, and even though I lamented not sending him to music or soccer camp, words and books and reading are totally his thing. He took to the class like a fish to water: the routine, the exercises, the teachers. Everyday, he would bring home a folder of the things he'd done. As soon as we exited the classroom, he'd lead me over to the curb and carefully show me each one... all while literally glowing with pride. They were simple exercises like drawing pictures and highlighting sounds in words and cutting and pasting. But all of these were things I was having a hard time getting him to settle down and do on his own. Since the class started, now he wants to color and do workbooks and cut things out and draw. He is certainly not reading, but the class opened the door to understanding that words are more than letters on a page, and I'm down with that. This week he is taking a small motor skills class that includes Legos and Lincoln Logs and Tinker Toys, but it will be truncated by our departure for Maine early Thursday morning.

Vacation, at last. We fly into Boston and will visit the Make Way For Ducklings statue. We'll take a leisurely drive up the coast to my parents old stomping grounds. When they were first married, my father taught English at an all boy's boarding school and my mom was the dorm mother. Both of my sisters were born there (well, even though they lived in Maine, they were actually born in New Hampshire because the hospital was closer) and the sense memories are strong. We'll arrive in Bar Harbor in time for the rehearsal dinner on Friday night... then the wedding on Saturday, and in between and beyond there will be a whale watching boat trip and an eyeball full of puffins and some strolling and some lobster eating and wine drinking and swimming.

Grandpa will be here housesitting and looking after my mini-zoo. San Antonio will not miss us, but I will miss San Antonio. As with all things, absence makes the heart grow fonder and even though NYC might be the city of my past dreams, San Antonio is the keeper of my heart.

Hello Tuesday. Great to see you. Today is a spectacular day to be alive.