Ampersand

&.

I like the ampersand. It's a very pretty piece of--well, it's not really punctuation, nor is it a letter. I must google it. OOh. It's a logogram. Cool. Learn something new every. single. day.

Anyway. A lot of fonts go curly and fancy on ampersands. I include it in my page title, although not in the url (I don't think you can in blogger). I remember using it a whole lot in an early draft of my dissertation and having my advisor ping about it. I know, I know. It's not formal and academese-y enough.

I use it a lot in poetry. ee cummings used it a lot, and perhaps that's one place his poetry has continued to influence mine. Since he was one of my first favorite poets (still is, in fact) I know his work has resonated on my brain since high school. So perhaps it's all his fault.

& then...

I hear a child messing with my other computer, the computer is pinging "help help help" at me. So my not-saying-anything-really blog post is now officially over.

&

Rainy Days Make Me Bloggy

Well I obviously haven't been writing much here. I've been so busy that it just doesn't seem like five minutes of blogging time gets factored in very often. But it's mostly good busy.

We're still fixing up old houses in the Highland historic district in town & then renting them out to folks at a reasonable rate. That still feels really good to do, in spite of the few bad eggs as tenants we've had. But it takes up a lot of time, because we don't cookie cutter the work. I go to Lowe's, pick out cool light fixtures that match the house's personality; we paint in colors that are comfy. We have handymen that jones to live in our places. That's gotta be good.

The kiddos are doing fine. Right now, in fact, they're napping, and needed a nap very much. They, and I, were both crabby earlier but we're better. Their dad is just now opening the door downstairs, and we're all good on a rainy Saturday afternoon.

That's the news & the weather.

201

Yesterday was my 200th post! If I were a TV show, I'd be in 200 episode fame; I'd get a big giant cake & lots of pictures after the episode of me eating said cake.

I'm not too sure I'll write a daily poem today. We'll see. It's a crazily busy weekend whenever Andrew works. And I'm not really feeling that inspired at this second. Perhaps that's what I'll write about-- the lack of inspiration. But I'll do it later.

Happy 200th post one post too late! To me! Yay Me!

Mud Dance

Weekends alone are different.
We dance more complicated single moves.
It's a troupe of three and music we alone hear.

We make the patterns up as we go along.
Break the rules often.
Make new rules, break them too.

There is so much joy in their faces when they
kick water or splash in the tub
cleaning off spring's bountiful mudliness.

My daughter squeals at an outside picnic.
My son runs faster than you can imagine
through the yard, chases invisible monsters.

I'm sure there are dramatic places I could be--
standing beneath the Eiffel tower, exploring the shops of New York--
But here, in my tiny back yard, happiness is this squish between the toes
this nap after sun, this soaking hug.

my new door

I painted my back door this afternoon-- barn door red. It was fun. Goddess forbid that I should go a weekend without getting a paint buzz & having paint on my hands. Yesterday I also painted my table white again.

Busy weekend. Fun. Painty.

Spring & All

This is Reserve Weekend, so Andrew is working. I figure he'll probably have to spend at least a little time "checking on the tenants" when he's off of the official work, too. So I'm on my own for the weekend with two very active babies.

The kicker: we're trying to eliminate naps on the weekend. Our kiddos are night owls-- it'll be 11 and they'll be wide awake running amuck. Because on weekends, they'd like to take a 3 hour nap. But if they don't nap, they're in bed, sometimes, by 7.

So I have a DIY project ahead-- I'm going to try to re finish this white cast aluminum table that's all covered in ick. However, the scourge of pollen that just fell on it makes me realize I need to move it to another part of the yard, first, or else have these tree sex bits stuck in the paint of my table forever & ever amen.

I'm not a religious person, really and like to think of myself as spiritual, rather. But there's an expression in the church (Lutheran). The preacher says:
"this is the day the Lord hath made" and everyone replies "praise be to God."

That's what I think about this day. In spite of it being difficult sometimes, it's a lovely gorgeous wonderful day with perfect babies (who are not angels, but just right and what I deserve anyway). And there's coffee. And not too much sneezing (thanks, Spring.)

Wasn't it T.S. Eliot who said "April is the sneeziest month?"