Sunday, April 22, 2012

Back from Duluth

 And busy as ever, of course. I've been absorbed in a project of which more at a later date (nothing life-changing, just absorbing) and the baseball tournaments continue unabated. Mostly without me, too, I am sorry to say. I am planning to attend a game today (but only one) and with the one I went on Friday that makes the most games of any one tournament I've attended this season. This makes me sad, less for the loss of all those games I could have been watching than for the way, when I show up, none of the other parents know me. Sigh. C'est la vie. Even if I attended every game and every practice, these parents live all over creation. Or the greater Denver metro area, anyway. It is not a situation conducive to grownup bond-forming.

These photos make it look so sunny and pleasant.
 But! Enough complaining. It was a hectic week, I spent much of it in airplanes/airports, and the second night I got home Silas's old long-suffering gerbil died (quietly in his sleep, I am relieved to report). Silas was distraught and felt that his grief required a day off of school (denied.) He also began researching replacement pets and was disappointed to find that the more playful an animal is, the less likely I am to approve it. (Ferrets? In your dreams, buddy.)

In fact, it was 33 degrees and snowing most of the time.

 The garden is growing in greenish bounds and could be using my constant attention (this is really what I want to be doing, rather than driving to baseball games/ soccer games/ birthday parties/ the store). I finished Undaunted Courage, felt bad for Lewis, and signed Helen up for swim team (since baseball is clearly NOT ENOUGH.) At least that's with friends and other neighbors, the same ones I am delighted to see and gossip with at soccer games. Yesterday, in fact, as I drove Helen from the soccer game to the American Girl Doll store to buy a present for the party she was going to later, and reflected pleasantly on the chats I'd had on the sidelines (these chats tend to rather overshadow the game, which is surely as it should be, unlike the tense silence at baseball games), I thought, Raising Arizona-style, of the distant gray-haired future, in which perhaps these women would be my actual friends with whom I would actually do things, like drive into the city and attend concerts and shows or drive into the mountains and drink beer in the sunset.
My annual Duluth run.
It could happen, I suppose. Or there will be others. I have to assume that there will be somebody, that once the hectic smash of the current nontimes have passed (and they will pass, that is certain, with the swiftness of a freight train), that we will actually pick ourselves up in the ensuing silence and go about having a life of our own again.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

First tick of the season

When I started at my current workplace, I was a little annoyed that we got Good Friday off but not public school holidays like MLK day. I may have couched my annoyance in righteous indignation but it was really about finding daycare on one day and having this useless day off three months later.
Now I've realized it's not all bad, having a day off work when the kids are in school. A person could go for a hike, say, and celebrate spring by picking up the first tick of the season (a special kind of magic).
Great place for ticks.
From what I hear, the whole country has been having a weird warm winter, but our weird warmth didn't start until March. We didn't get a single flake of snow or drop of rain the whole month--usually that's our snowiest month. As a gardener, it's hard to know whether to rejoice, or play it cannily safe, or scream that the sky is falling.

I went with the first option and planted some tomato seedlings the last day of March. March! Usually I don't put out tomatoes until May.

Not visible: two tomato seedlings.
Otherwise, it's been a busy week. I've been preoccupied by a project, by work deadlines, and by camp strategy (and procrastination thereof.) Next week: just as busy.

Even Si did some planting in his personal garden plot (peas and carrots). Photo (and frame) courtesy Helen.