Harper is 12.

The kids are even numbers again: 8,10, 12. That means I have been blogging for 10 years. We are in the process of getting our house ready to sell so we can quit with all the excessive driving. This means I am having to deal with 12 years of memories I have piled into boxes and corners and cabinets. You can imagine this is all very troubling. Sunrise, sunset. BAH.

There are lots of fledglings in the neighborhood this year. The girls and I found a grackle baby on the ground and put her back in her tree. Helena named her Twig. Twig spent a day peeping plaintively for her mom and dad to discover her. She was gone the next day, and we are hoping for the best. Every morning when I take Sasha out, there is Bird School happening on our back fence. Grackle, mourning dove, and mockingbird fledglings all lined up on the fence waiting, not very patiently, for breakfast and flying practice. Over the past few days, the fledglings are bigger than the parents, and the parents scold from the rooftops as the fledglings PEEP incessantly and plaintively, and then, finally, reluctantly, hop down from the fence and start pecking for their own worms.

My friend Jill gave us her Houston Ballet tickets to "The Tempest" two Saturdays ago. The girls and I went and, while it was beautiful, Shakespeare is downright confusing with no words to guide us. Helena kept stage-whispering, "Is THAT the bad guy?" and then I couldn't remember if Prospero is, technically a bad guy, since "The Tempest" is considered one of the comedies.

On Saturday, we loaded up and drove to Galveston for the day again. We met friends this time. It was another good time, and yet another opportunity to prove my ineptitude at keeping my kids properly covered in sunblock. VITAMIN D!

A smattering of pictures from the day of her birthday. We were camping, and that morning Hudson, Helena and I walked over to the camp store to buy presents: a stuffed Great Blue Heron, an Inks Lake cap, and a bag of M&Ms. She got rollerblades from the Grandparents Pate, and I think she resembles a fledgling Great Blue Heron when she skates. The night after her birthday, we went out for barbeque, then the husband discovered a go-cart place across from the restaurant, so they had a spin.

Harper started a newspaper. It details the vagaries of The Life of Ernie, and you'd be surprised how newsworthy his life is: "Ernie, the infamous puppet, was ripped on June 8, while he was at the local pool! None of the witnesses, when questioned knew the cause of this nefarious deed. The question still remains." I also really like the part where she refers to herself as a "filmier"--let's pronounce that Fil-me-AY, please. As in, "The winner for Best Filmier of Stop Action Puppet Videos IS..."

Hallelujah anyway

Anne Lamott has a new book. I checked it out from the library and am about half way through. I think Anne is probably the 21st century version of the sort of human who would have been right there in Jesus' inner circle, and I think that is why she loves him. I find, even though she and I differ significantly on rather significant things, that reading her words tends to remind me of the beauty of the gospel. So, Hallelujah, anyway, Anne.

Harper had her piano recital on Sunday. She played Mozart's "Arietta" with vigor and confidence, and was also recognized for the fact that she has practiced over 100 days in a row, without missing a single day. She also has her Book 2 graduation recital this Saturday, which makes me wonder how big families with multiple kids taking music lessons manage to fit it all in.


I don't want to forget that on afternoons when the weather is nice, I like to sit out on the porch, sometimes with the birds in their cage behind me, reading the newspaper. This is the view: the kids with some neighbor kids trying to figure out what game to play next.

We are listening to the Melendy quartet on the school commute. We just finished The Saturdays, and have moved on to The Four-Story Mistake. We are all enjoying it.

Well, I wrote all of that a few weeks ago. We are now three weeks into summer. We are on the fourth book of the Melendy quartet. We went camping to Inks Lake. Harper turned TWELVE. Here are some pictures:

Many hours have been spent on this puzzle. That is the Daddy's purview. I do not enjoy puzzles. A few nights ago, the kids went out at dusk and blew bubbles in the cul-de-sac. They, at eight and ten and twelve, can still delight in bubbles. That brings me joy.