I had some stamina and focus today, which was handy; I don't always. But I was pushing off the pressing things on my own mind, and I didn't answer my phone or get on the computer except to check my mail and Facebook mid-morning. And because of that, there was free space to be here and be real with the boys.
This is good for me to remember. I am glad for this to be written down. Don't worry about my own stuff, don't get caught up in the digital world, and be here, right here, with my very real little people. Also, we did everything we did today for $8, convenient since that's about what I had to spend while waiting for our reimbursement check for the Chicago trip.
To start the day off, we made a big production of bundling up for the cold: coats and hats, yes, scarves, too, but also mittens and gloves and two layers of shirts and socks. It was as insulated as any of us had ever been in our lives.
Walking down the street, more interesting things: a Wagoneer that had slid on the icy road into the ditch in front of our house; the suddenly empty lot where yesterday the burned-up house had been; icicles; and striated rocks that Woody liked.
Meeting Daddy Honey at the bakery downtown, we split quiche and pastries (that was the $8) and met our across-the-street neighbor who works there.
Then, we walked on to the library where we read books from B authors (books that happened to grab our eyes as we were in the B-authors section of the picture books looking for Grandfather Twilight by Barbara Berger) and played a good game of Othello. Woody won by two pieces. Fox enjoyed pushing the moveable chairs around and hiding in them.
Back home, we knapped those rocks to try and make arrowheads. We got some flaking, but not much.
Then, a game of chess, start to finish. I won, by a hair's breadth, and not because of a move I orchestrated but rather one that I noticed at the last minute that surprised both of us. I had fully expected to lose, since I stink at chess.
Finally, making dinner together, Woody worked on the cornbread and carrots and radishes, using the stovetop for the first time.
Some days can trip along like this. Other days, not. Some days have appointments and accidents. Some days, you plan something special and much has to move around to accommodate it. Some days there is not the $8. But to tell you the truth, if I could have one day to stand for what I hope this whole blog stands for, it would look like today did. It wouldn't be fancy or expensive or complicated or scheduled much. It would be smooth and sweet, easy and flowy, curious and interesting and experimental and engaged.