::metal::

my jungle gym as a kid was made out of metal pipe. i was passionate about gymnastics and mary lou retton for a time, but too poor to do anything about it. so i would swing and hang right here. i love that tangy mineral smell you get on your hands from metal. i also love the old school jungle gyms and tornado slides. i do not love the scorching sensation you get in high summer on said slides, which is why playground equipment is all plastic these days. makes sense i guess. but i do miss that smell.

have a great great great long weekend. maybe find a jungle gym or some monkey bars?

::fire::

i really wanted to give you warm crackling camp fires. you know, the kind you hold a marshmallow laden stick over. the kind where you sit with friends and rub sore calf muscles, laughing about the time you thought you saw a bear and almost peed your pants on the trail. or better yet, the kind you crawl out of your tent for because the scent of sizzling bacon and bubbling eggs wafted through that bit of mesh above your head. thats probably my favorite kind. i can still to this day taste the breakfast my dad cooked for us in his blackest of blacks iron skillet when i was seven, shivering in the cool morning air outside our tent. delicious i tell you.

i thought about giving you the big massive roar of the fall bonfire. did you do those? we did. every year without fail. my dad would haul brush to the back pasture. of course at first the pile would be pitiful, more of a blight than anything. but over the course of a year it would grow and grow until it was this huge asymmetrical grey spiny mound. my brother and i would trudge down there and inspect it. walk around it. speculate on just how tall it really was, taller than the house? maybe. taller than a sky scrapper? no way. yes huh. well, maybe. and then the summer would break, and you could taste that twinge of fall in the air, right at the back of your throat and you knew it was almost time. school might start up, that was the worst. fidgeting in your desk wondering if maybe today was the day dad would light it. but you would race home, dump your backpack in the drive and sprint down the hill to the pile. still there. maybe tomorrow. early one saturday morning you would hear the old blue truck rumble to life and head around back. sliding out of bed, you would creep down the stairs to the landing and peer out through the dusty panes and see dad dumping out hay bales haphazardly around the pasture. later you would find him on the tallest ladder ever stringing lights through the tree tops. on sunday two old claw-footed bathtubs would appear near the deck, leaving no doubt that next saturday was the day. only six days of waiting. the actual saturday was always the worst, you never wished for the sun to drop fast on any other day of the year. but this day, the longest day, it seem to take months to get dark. but finally you would notice your shadow tagging along behind you and you would find your brother and weave in and out of the people scattered around in small bunches here and there to stand right in front of the pile. as close as allowed by your mom. then two or three men would help dad sprinkle kerosene on the pile. then came the wands of newspaper, already lit, arching through the air towards the timbers newly baptized, and whoooosh. flames. little at first, licking around the bottom, working their way up the middle, until finally finally the very tip top would catch. and wouldnt you know, the sun was gone and now all you could see were millions of tiny embers dancing in the air, working their way up to heaven. the heat of the bonfire would push everyone back, conversations would lull and eyes would always stray back to the yellow orange flames. you would run back and stand there until you just knew your cheeks were flaming too and then dash back over to the bathtubs now full of ice and drinks and plunge your hands in to feel the cold. the longest night of the of the year, laying on a hay bale, so tired but refusing to go inside until every last bit of fire was gone. did you do those? you should.

::air::

a formation of vintage japanese bombers coming and going over our home. i love airplanes. ever since i can remember i have loved flying. the thought of being up in the air by the sheer mental will of people who dreamed that it could be so is pure magic to me. my first time on a plane was when i was a 8 month old, don't remember it obviously. the second time i was four and i have vague memories of my nose being glued to the tiny rounded rectangle of a window, eyes peeled for angels which i was sure were to be seen while flying through the clouds. thats where angels live, inside clouds, didnt you know? third time i was nine and i definitely remember the windows and clouds, but this time i was on the look out for gorillas on board. this was 1986 and we were flying to colombia (as well as the first two times) to visit my grandparents for the summer. remember all the fears of gorilla terrorist groups? i do. and i took it quite literally and was absolutely certain there would be a huge silverback on our flight, slobbering and beating his chest and not letting anyone get into the bathroom. there wasnt in case you were wondering. trip four to colombia i was 16 and had lost all eye for the window, entirely too busy combing the other isles for cute boys to talk to. i found one, but was to shy to stop and chat, instead i went to the bathroom ten million times so i could look at him from the corner of my eyes. puberty. go figure. now of course when i fly i am back to appreciating the view. when the plane starts to descend for landing i like to scan the earth to find any tiny people specks, wondering how high up you can be and still make out a person. not very for me, i have bad eyes. put me back in the air though, i want to keep trying.

::earth::

my son loves earth. not the earth, but earth itself, and all its treasures. thanks meg. more over at shari's.

::water::

a ten minute summer shower. we sit on the porch and enjoy the spray, and the smell of hot concrete sighing new steam into the air. afterwards we splash in lukewarm puddles and i notice that the driveway is covered in diamond reflections. i love it.

look for more natural elements over at the glass doorknob.

hello hello

i guess by now it is painfully obvious that i am guilty of neglect. of my sewing machine that is. and that i have been crushing on my camera. if you have been wondering where i am, the answer is simple. flickr. all the time. its true. david said that he can rest easy knowing that i wont be lonely while he is gone. i think that is true to an extent. except for you know, those carnal ways. oh my. anyway back to me, who am i? (i can not take any credit for that most excellent statement. thank you sarah) so i do actually have a couple sewing projects that have managed to tear me away from flickr thanks to some most excellent fabric from superbuzzy. oh my again. but i have history of talking and not working. perhaps i will have something to show for it next week? perhaps. in the meantime, lets talk eye candy. places i visit daily? ok.

3191 maria and stephanie? a no-brainer people.

HELLO hello indeed alison.

maditi likes so do i, so do i.

we made this ok, so mostly design, but so much goodness. i think i could easily become a typeface geek.

ok, enough for today. it is friday, the end of a long long week of new school schedule. we are all pooped over here. may the weekend be long and lazy. oh i almost forgot! one last thing. shari is doing a natural elements photo week in which i plan to participate. do it. you know you want to.

first day

little t.s.' secret
by matt porubsky

you're sitting in a rocker
of bent wire and
stretched cloth,
rhythmed by the
new father's toe.
he leans forward and
funnies his face
and we, all three boys,
laugh.
your belly breathes
under your vermouth
colored clothes,
buttoned up the leg.
your mama got home from
work a few hours ago,
and brings in tomorrow's
shirt to be pressed.
she giggles spanish
sounds at you while the
iron bubbles and hisses.
she sighs
a sweet columbian sigh
in unison with the
iron's steamy one.
you have the new father's
hair and brow,
your mama's penny nose
and pretty feet,
and share both of their
warm chocolate eyes.
mama says you should be
crawling soon,
but i know your secret.
i know before you can crawl,
you can fly.
when we go fix our plates
for dinner, you float
out of your rocker
and bounce on the
air around the room,
in cobwebbed corners
and dusty doorways.
you laugh, in the air, with your
mama's little lips
and rolling tongue,
and watch with
the new father's
observant eyes and
biting brain.
i always hear from
the kitchen, that's
why i know your secret.
i hear it when you laugh.

it's time to show the world just how high you can fly. we love you eliot.

eighteen

i blinked and there it was. eighteen months of sweet arlo. i know i have said it before, how there was so much tension and so little happiness with this pregnancy. every day i am just amazed at how sweet she is, the smiles, the giggles, the looks, the sass, oh yes, there is sass already. you want to know a secret? she's my favorite. i said it. i love all my kids. i do. but this my baby, my cuddler, my little one with soft soft skin that still smells sweet. she doesnt argue yet, well not really, she doesnt push me away if i want a little hug, she doesnt mind if i play with her hair. aaaah the baby. eliot starts kindergarten on monday and people keep asking me if i am going to cry. i dont think so. another secret? i think i will bawl when arlo goes to kindergarten. happy eighteen months my sweet one. yes yes i will put your shoes on (she loooooves her yellow sandals, thats my girl) and yes i will get you some more juice. banana? of course. just sit in my lap for a few minutes...

nine years

nine years today with david. this morning eliot asked us if we getting married again to day. didnt quite grasp the meaning of anniversary, but couched in an explanation that our marriage was having its ninth birthday, it all clicked. last night we were chatting with our friend beth (who understands the meaning of anniversary, so much easier that way) about the past nine years. happiest day of my life? no. not the actual day. what a blur. best decision i ever made? yes. most definitely. our first year of marriage (babies marrying babies mind you) david decided not to go back to school. while at home he zeroed in on what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. be a writer. thank goodness. second year, with much prompting on my part, we packed up and moved back to lawrence where david was enrolled in the creative writing program. third & fourth years were a blur of college, lots of shows at the bottleneck, one car, $237 rent (not a lie), three roommates, and a dog. again with more prompting by yours truly, david enrolled in the masters program for creative writing. i mean come on, they were paying for his tuition and paying him to teach. how can you say no to that? you cant. you just cant. fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth were a blur of babies, house buying, car buying, babies, starting up two companies, babies, more car buying (uh hello, mini van?) lots and lots of stress about all those things plus money. and here we are. the first day of our ninth year. and truly, honestly, i can say that this is going to be our best year yet. because of, in spite of, all those things we are here, making the most of it. sticking to our guns on goals and dreams, letting little things fall to the wayside, reveling in wonderful friendships and support. and damn it all if it doesnt feel great and scary and lovely at once. i love you david, you are the best decision i ever made.

cross processed

first i have to say thank you thank you thank you to meg who told me about cross processing, pointed me to different films, and offered to have my roll developed. seriously? who is that nice? meg i guess. so cross processing, are you scratching your head? what is it? it means to process color slide film in chemicals for regular photography, or conversely regular film in chemicals for slide film. and what does that do for you? well it gives you all this super saturated color and a bit of graininess and is just plain cool in my opinion. i shot a roll of 36 on our trip to minneapolis and honestly i thought for sure none of them would come out. i was really bummed. yesterday my film showed up from meg (thank you again!) and wow wow! i was so excited! i have been having so much fun playing with my film camera, it feels so good to learn something new. maybe next i will tackle some true black & white? well, lets not get crazy. if you are interested, you can see the whole roll here, i am sure there is some flickr etiquette that you only upload a few pictures at a time, but i couldnt help it. i had to put up all of them. oh well.