Fairy Tale 2: The Rain

When the rain started, the world was dry. The plants surged upward, grateful, basking in the needed moisture. Children splashed in the puddles happily, kicked water on their parents, who laughed.

But the sprinkly storm turned heavy. The heat was moist, like a laundry room. The rain did not refresh anyone; people stopped splashing playfully in puddles and instead, began to fill sandbags with mucky brown grit. The domesticated flowers began to droop from too much water. Their leaves grew yellow, then brown at the edges, then, inexplicably moldy and finally, turned to mush.

It kept raining.

Vines dormant since the age of dinosaurs started to grow. Tiny green shoots, at first, they covered outbuildings, eclipsing their square shapes, then crept into the yard. Nothing had sharp edges anymore-- it was all soft, green, masses of tendrils. The tendrils grabbed at the children's ankles as they ran past, on their way through the downpour into the rapidly growing smaller houses. These vines had beautiful, giant flowers that smelled heavenly to the small birds and insects-- who hovered near and were snapped up, eaten by the flowers, slowly digested in slimey juices.

Still, it rained.

People forgot what lawnmowers looked like, left them to rust in the yards. The gasoliney smelling machines began to look like old art projects as the vines covered them, turned them into topiary of an ancient world. New indoor lives were found, forgetting the heat of summer, the heat of lemonade and ice cream and beaches and dry sand that sticks to the backs of legs.

The rain did not stop.

It dribbled. Drizzled. Poured. Torrents came down and then became gushers. Ditches filled up, overflowed. Sidewalks became small rivers. Doghouses floated away, some with the dogs, forgotten, perched on top of them, howling.

And the water and green kept flowing, flowing, flowing, until people forgot the words for "dry" or "dusty" and even "desert."

Hot & Rainy

hot and rainy hot and rainy.

Ugh.

Fairy Tale

Once upon a time a young, redheaded princess found her way into the woods. It doesn't matter which woods, it doesn't matter how she came to be there. What matters is that these woods were dark, and the paths were unclear, and there were small animals hiding under low branches as she passed. There were larger things, too-- the reason the small animals were hiding.

The redheaded girl did not wear a red-cloak, carry a basket for her grandmother, smell gingerbread, or hear fairy music leading her on. She simply walked. She was alone, and at first, she was not very afraid. She figured she would find her way out, and knew she had a good head on her shoulders, and reasoned that where she had been lost she would eventually find her own way out.

There may have been monsters. There may have been encounters with magical beasts-- perhaps dragons, with fiery red eyes. Perhaps unicorns, lulled by the sound of her singing into resting their heads upon her lap. Perhaps there were heroes so entranced by her beauty that they threw themselves into her service and found her to be worthy.

Perhaps not. Perhaps she was just lost, and never found, in a woods far from home.

Which story would you write?


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p.s. this is not a metaphor for my life. It is fiction. Don't read anything into it. I'm just thinking about fairy tales.

Peas in Pod

So I go into the bedroom to check on a squawky kiddo. (Probably Sean who works up to being awake like this.) They were sleeping so closely piled up that for a second, adjusting my eyes to the darkness of the room, I couldn't see Maia. They were like one kid, attached at their back with legs scrawled to each side. Eternally twin.

They used to sleep like that all the time when they were infants-- bundled in their blankets, with head hands face in same exact position. I even have some cool photos I'd put on here if I wasn't too lazy to go find them.

I just thought it was kind of cool to see that again. Whenever they are in the bed together, they gravitate towards each other. This is just the most extreme example of it I've seen for a long time.

Feels Like Autumn Already

Not to be a totally banal weather blogger but the last week plus week ahead here in the Swampland is rain rain and then more rain. With brief periods of muggy heat. Right now, in fact, as I sit here, it's dark and feels like earlier than it is. In our bedroom, it's super dark, and if I want the kids to wake up before noon, I'll have to turn on lights and make noise. I'm blessed with kids that will sleep in the morning (it wasn't the case when they were infants, however). But if I let them sleep too long, they won't nap and will be crabby all afternoon, so it's a fine line.

But the point is that because of all this rain and no sun for so long it really has started to feel, this week, like a turn towards Fall. I know it's not that long now until I'm taking the kiddos to "real" school again and going back myself. I have the syllabus I created last year for a new class I've never taught before, and there are about 8 students per class registered already (since it's mostly an all Freshman class, it's unusual for it to fill up before late Drop/Add).

I have big plans once this Fall semester starts. Academics tend to do this: the Fall is another "New Year" for us. We get new clothes, new students. Some of us try to clean up the office space at work. Me, I'm going to renew my efforts at the gym. I was being really good at the start of the summer but then when Sean went to his sporadic summer school schedule, I just lost all the extra time in my day. But I am recommitting seriously to the plan to lose 30 pounds of extra and re-muscleify re-aerobicize, re-tone my flabby tired almost 40 year old body. It will mean an actual diet, I think, this time. Complete with "nutrition shakes" for breakfast and light meals. And NO liquor for at least the first 6 weeks. I may quit altogether forever except for special occasions. It seems to me that it's half (perhaps even more than half) of the weight loss problem. You drink your "just one" glass of wine with dinner, and it tastes really good so you want another, then you figure "I'll just have a bowl of ice cream too" and then that is a BIG bowl and then there's an extra 500 calories in your day. That's more than a total hour's worth of walking on an elliptical, at least. If you're really killing the machine. And the most fit of people over 40 that I know, most of them don't drink much at all. It's a youthful thing. (Except for the French. And I seriously think they're tricking us somehow...) :)

Anyway. That's a long blog post to say: it feels a bit like the renewal of "back to school," back to work back to being something other than a slacker in PJs again. Just because of a week of rain. It'll go back to sunny & too hot, I'm sure, before summer really gives up the ghost but it's a tease, and I, for one, am looking forward to it. Even with the pain of working out and weight loss goals.