Tuesday, June 21, 2011

The Joke is on Me

Have you ever felt as though you were actually the star of the movie The Truman Show? That your life was serving as some bizarre entertainment for mass audiences, but you were none the wiser? Yeah? Me too!

Before you go calling for the men with their white coats, let me explain...

There was the time I arrived at an interview at the wrong school, but they went ahead and interviewed me anyway...

Another time it was announced I won the best parking spot at work after my van broke-down on the way to work...
Ahh, the list could go on and on. But the most recent happened Sunday. After a busy Father's Day of visiting and grocery shopping - well we had to eat! - I remembered I really need to move cash into one of our accounts. Hubby said he would stay with a fussy Baby so off I went to run a 10 minute errand. At nearly the 30 minute mark Hubby was calling, I knew he was probably worried, but I couldn't take the call to offer any reassurance for fear I would be disconnected yet again....Who was I talking to? Well, the bank of course.

**flashback 25 minutes**
I pull beside the ATM, insert card, begin deposit...Machine does its thing, asks if the deposit amount is good and if I want to process it, I press complete deposit...Little whirling doohickey appears to indicate it is processing....Almost done then BAM everything goes black. My first thought was we have been invaded - just kidding, actually it was a string of four-letter words (a very long and emphatic string) The machine does not come back on...did I mention the deposit was cash?? Did you infer that it was important for the money to be in the bank since I left Hubby with a gassy baby on Father's Day?

So, after 2 calls to the number on the ATM machine, playing the push a button game twice, and one disconnected call I could not take Hubby's worried call because we all know I would have lost customer service person #2. I also refused to leave the ATM, which had rebooted and seemed fully functional - because it ate my money!! and my card! And all the while I was stealing peeks to see where those little cameras are hidden, because honestly it is comical - in some really ironic way...

Monday, I spoke with claims, and they are "researching" the problem....they better find my money!

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Happy Father's Day

When it came time to think about a Father's Day post this year, it was a stuttering process. Should I begin with my own father who was an ever-present force of calm and caring? Should I be witty in sharing all of Hubby's qualities that make him the confidante of Teen, play-mate of Boy, occasional knight to Youngest's princess, and newly appointed surrogate caregiver to Baby?  My wonderful gift for writing not withstanding Nothing seemed to gel. 

Then, yesterday, the perfect blog presented itself in the actions of an adolescent Boy. 

Baby was fussy. There is no other way to put it. If she was ensconced in the arms of anyone she was calm and peaceful, but the minute she was set anywhere she would startle complete with arms flung to the sides and begin to fuss which irrevocably lead to crying. As a result, there was a cuddle fest taking place on the couch most of the evening. 

At some point, Boy appeared, having left whatever computer game he was captivated with at the time. Reaching out as if to take Baby, he offered a questioning look. "Do you want to hold her?" I asked. A nod and a glance to a cushion supported spot on the couch were the response. For the next thirty minutes, Boy cuddled, coo'd, and cared for Baby setting aside all adolescent pretense of being a guy too cool to care for babies. 

In this and his repeated attention Baby; his willingness to feed her, replace her binky umpteen times a day while remaining in good humor, or hold her while she is fussy Hubby's influence as a father is seen. And really what better testament to fatherhood is there?

Happy Father's Day to all the dads that are playmates, caregivers, confidantes, or otherwise engaged with their children. You are all cherished!

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Verbal and Vivid

I had some friends over last week. After interacting with my kids for a bit, my friend laughing at something Boy said, commented "What do you expect, his mother is an English teacher." I am not sure that is the cause, but there are certainly some strange things said in this house.

Youngest's comments are often exclaimed, with fervor. 
Baby had been in our home for about a week, with little attention from Youngest it's hard to be dethroned she suddenly took an interest in this tiny, cuddly human. As I was dressing Baby, Youngest looked upon the scene and noted that Baby was "awfully fuzzy." I replied that babies certainly are, and Youngest could wash her hands then touch her. After appraising her dirt streaked hands that had spent the last hour hunting lizards and reaching into crevices among the bushes touching who knows what she looked to me and said, "Uh, I don't know her head has that smooshy spot. I freaks me out." 

On her birthday, Youngest chose to wear a summer dress she has had about a year. As we were driving to the movies, she was wondering aloud whether her friend would also like her dress. Youngest reassured herself that anyone would love this dress because, "It's a masterpiece! Look at the beautiful flowers. The person who made this fabric was an artist!" I must admit, it is a rather pretty dress. 

Boy has entered the witty stage. 

After hearing for the umpteenth time that the Mom of Baby has an allergy to cats, that she is quite certain without any basis she has passed to Baby, he jumped from his seat as I was using some spray in my cleaning yesterday. "Hold it, Mom! Be careful! The baby is allergic!" Ah, where does this sarcasm come from??

And Teen continues to take everything in, draw her conclusions, and argue with the best of them...We'll see if we can harness that talent and interest her in debate next year.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Introducing Baby "Seashore"

"Babies come when they come, and seldom when you are ready for them." Over the years I have heard, and even used, many variations of this sentiment. It seems to be quite true for most of the population, even planners like me. Out of three pregnancies, only one was a straight forward "we want this to happen at this time" and voila 40 weeks later ok 38 he was early we had Boy. 

Teen was a wonderful surprise and we were excited-read-everything-we-could- to-prepare, holy-crap-we-are gonna-be-parents blessing. (And we've done quite well so far)

Seven years ago yesterday Youngest blessed our lives. After trying like bunnies for months it seemed a no-go situation. We were sad, but adapted over time. Then just after Hubby was laid-off from his job...Here comes Youngest. Yeah, no stress there. Of course we were thrilled, but nervous. Hubby got a new job, life settled, and after my standard 38 weeks, our family was given the great gift of Youngest.

It seems that preparation and time to adapt are crucial when it comes to babies. So, a bit over two weeks ago I was frazzled. Today I am calm, worried, but calm. No, I am not expecting. Even the luxury of 30-something weeks is beyond me. Instead, Hubby and I have welcomed into our home and family a baby girl. 

We have been blessed with care of my niece, who we'll call Baby in this blog. It was sudden and it is sad. Baby had not been injured in any way by her parents, they are simply unable to care for her at this time due to personal and mental health issues. So with no warning, I left work early to "nest" for an hour before a state worker brought me a 2-week old baby girl. My mom brought necessities like bottles, bassinet, car seat, etc etc. Babies really require a ton of stuff. I don't know how long she'll stay, but I do know that she has won everyone's heart and love. We will do our best to give her everything she needs including stability and a family of love.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Home Repair

After 5 years of friendship, a couple of years of dating and almost 15 years of marriage you know someone. Growing up and older with a person leads you to believe you have a pretty good handle on their personality. Daily responsibilities tend to be divided by interests and areas of expertise. So if you had asked me to describe my husband to you that morning, I would have felt confident in my summery. Until we began putting on a new front door.

We decided to tackle this project together. I read the Home Depot book and he watched Lowes home repair videos. We were set to go. We began early, in the event that it took longer than the 3 hour suggested time. It did. Four hours plus 2 more trips to the hardware store longer. The project estimates were apparently given for people who live in a house so new, nothing has settled , everything is square, and obviously they don't need a new door. But I digress.

We laughed, joked, and commiserated over our sadly out of square opening. We came up with plans together, the neighbor came by to lend his tools. Nothing seemed off in my previous assessments of my husband. 

Until I realized I hadn't touched one tool, other than to hand it to him or take it from him. 

Now, understand I know I am not the most coordinated person on the block and when I paint a room it may look as though it was done by a kid, but surely I can hammer a nail. Nope. Not a hammer, not a pry bar, certainly not an electric saw or drill was put to use by me - once. Heck Boy had more tool exposure than I did by hammering the nails in the old frame flush so as not to wound the garbage men.

Who knew this chauvinistic chivalrous side of him existed? Apparently not me, as I practically begged for a chance to whack something with a hammer.

Friday, June 3, 2011

Just a Sip?

"Please Mom, can I have insert beverage of choice here, usually pop a drink, I'll just take a sip." Yeah right, tell that to the bad guy in Indiana Jones, Search for the Holy Grail. 

 Moms hear this all the time. I guess Dads do too, but not being one I can't say with certainty. Boy has definitely asked me this every day of his life since he could talk more than once. So, it was not surprising to hear Youngest utter these words, it was the context that startled.

Upon waking the blissfully slumbering little dear their horns are definitely out of sight while they rest rolled to the side throwing her arm out of the blankets, and began reaching blindly around her bed. "Only a couple of school days left, hop up!" I declared in a chipper whisper.

Still blindly reaching, patting, and searching her bed she said, "Ok Mom, just let me get a little sip of my mi-mi first." Tucking her comforting blankie AKA mi mi into her chin she snuggles back into the pillow for a "sip" of quiet before another day begins.

Hey Babe, whatever gets you through the day!

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Mom's Medicine

Being a parent you become used to the idea that your stuff is up for grabs. Anything from your donut to the pens in your purse somehow transform to community property. This especially seems true of my beverages. On the way to bed, Boy will often try to sneak a sip of my pop and look aghast when I tell him no. I may have found a way to break him of this habit.

It was spring break and we were staying with my sisters and cousins at a beach house in NC. I had just poured a drink and went to use the facilities. Though the house was large, it had the ability to carry sound well, so I was privy to the conversation taking place among the cousins.

Cousin L: "I think that's your mom's pop."

Boy: "It is. I'm thirsty"

Cousin J: "If you drink it all she'll be mad."

Boy: "I'm just gonna have a sip." 

*me hollering uselessly not to touch my pop - sound only carries one way I guess...*

Boy: "AHHH! That's MEDICINE! YUCK!!".. "Cousin L, taste it. It's NOT pop - it's medicine!"

Cousin N: "Can I taste?" *why - I have no idea*

Boy: "Yeah N, taste it. Blech, acchh, blech."

Thankfully I arrived on the scene to rescue my RUM and Diet Coke before Cousin N could imbibe.

Friday, April 1, 2011


At times it feels as though I am treading water in a storm. I have on a bright orange life-vest safety first you know but it is waterlogged and barely keeping my nose above the water line. As one task or difficulty passes, here comes another wave. All I can do at times like these is to be thankful for the vest, and the miracle that is the sun between the clouds.

Yesterday, I finally conquered one recurring wave - my van. Yes, my trusty steed that should have, by all accounts been shot at LEAST a year ago, was put to pasture when I finally bought a new van. It is shiny, clean, and best of all has a warranty!!!

No more will be the mornings I have to deal with shuttering and shaking as the van warms in the drive.
No longer will I repeat "I think I can" on the drive to work. A great motto for life, but a cruddy way to start your day.
No longer will I have to deal with doors that don't want to unlock and sliding doors that stick.

Some sun has shown between the clouds. And for this small blessing I am grateful.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Pack all you Want

At a countdown of T-10 hours the task was complete. Boy was packed and ready to go off to Seacamp. I had followed the what to bring directions to the letter. Everything from jeans to underwear had been labeled with his name along with the noted sunscreen and bug repellent. Disposable underwater camera and snacks were placed in the backpack  while it was searched for contraband electronics

By T-7 hours (8pm) everything sat in a neat pile beside the front door. Except the bathroom bag.

Open and ready for a deposit of toothbrush and deodorant, that bag sat waiting on the bathroom counter.

At 4am I was jolted awake by the alarm and considered myself endlessly lucky that Hubby would be doing the 4:30am drop-off. I did consider climbing out of bed to watch the proceedings, but fell asleep thinking I would pop-up and give a quick kiss in a few minutes as they left. I did wake-up. Regretfully, it was as Hubby was backing out of the driveway. Oh-well. Back to sleep for another hour or so before everyone else needed to be hustled through the morning routine. 

Amidst the typical morning rush I happened to notice that the counter held a toothbrush which suspiciously resembled Boy's. A second glance told me there was no toiletries bag, but his deodorant kept the stray toothbrush company. Hmmm. I consoled myself that deodorant at just-12 isn't a necessity especially since 3/4 of the time would be spent in the water of the Florida Keys, and he had money enough to buy a new toothbrush as well as a souvenir.

Fast-forward with not a single phone call or any word to Friday evening. A fully-animated Boy recounted his adventures specifically describing events aimed to wow, dissecting squids, swimming with sharks, and getting stung by jelly fish. After his energetic sharing I asked him if he got any good pictures. Nope. Not one. I am not sure the camera even exited the backpack. 

"Jeez you're looking pretty salty, better head in for a shower," I tell him. At which point he explains that he and his friend were on a quest to save freshwater for the trip. So they did not shower once. With pride clearly welling in his voice he told us how he and his friend were congratulated for saving water at their final lunch. 

"What about your teeth?" I asked "Did you have your toothbrush?" A lopsided grin lit his face as he shrugged unsure of his answer....Okay. I'll take that as a no.

"I don't know, I only looked in the the bag once to grab the sunscreen." With a head shake I hustled him into the bathroom to rectify his hygiene issues and considered myself lucky that at least he wasn't sunburned.

Thursday, February 24, 2011


Home, at long last. Juggling a mere three children is a reprieve after a long day spent listening, laughing, and cajoling ninety plus personalities to learn all day. Greeted by a stack of laundry, the need to rush through homework agendas, plus make dinner and squeeze in some laughter at home is the warm embrace of home. After crazy evening routines and rituals, I have earned the right to sit on the couch, watch fiction, and enjoy my creative outlet - lesson planning.

Yes, work. Embracing lesson-scrapping and revamping, altering, adding, and changing is who I am. This is honestly how my creativity works best. I love my job. I do not complain  though sometimes it is because I am burried under 90+ essays and can't breathe let alone talk   Because I enjoy it. Yet, yesterday I found myself near tears while talking about work with Hubby.

Why? Because I have never in my life had so many people judge me and seem to hate me, without even knowing I exist - EVER. The animosity that is pouring forth from any and every one towards my profession is staggering. Suddenly parents, who dread the mere idea of spending another snow day trapped in the house with 1-3 kids looking for any way to keep them busy for a measly afternoon, are proclaiming that not only do teachers make too much money, they aren't doing it right either. Everyone seems to know exactly what we do and how we SHOULD be doing it - for free. 

Let me tell you a secret, I have been to the hospital a time or two in my life. I've watched blood draws and IV inserts, heck I've even seen stitches put in and babies birthed. Does that make me equipped to tell the nurses and doctors how to do their jobs? 

Sitting in a classroom for years doesn't make anyone an expert either. We are paid to make it look easy - just like any good magician. Students and parents do not see the frustration that dedicated teachers feel when they feel a student is falling through the cracks or the messes they leave on their own kitchen counters because there is another assignment that needs to be tweaked to reach those hard to reach students. We don't complain. Not because it is a job any one can do, but because we chose to do it. So, please feel free to be pro or anti union. I don't care. But in the mad quest to end organized labor would it be possible to stop scapegoating the teachers? By and large we are a dedicated group that seeks to elevate your children everyday. and it hurts my feelings

Monday, February 21, 2011

Spooky Movie, Strange Lights

Finally, after much maneuvering and demands for the kids to turn off the light in there, with me recovered sufficiently from the flu that has plagued me and pumped full of Nyquil Hubby and I were finally able to sit back and watch a horror movie he brought home last week.

Well into the movie, with more than half my popcorn gone, the creeps were settling nicely across the living room. Hubby and I mentioned numerous times that the family were fools to give-up the one link to spiritual lightness and I was well into my role of criticizing the stupidity of the characters. When Hubby looks into the kitchen and points to something near the sliders. 

Knowing his wiley ways of terror well, I said "It's the cat or something." Just as said feline rubs her rump against my elbow. Intrigued I look up with a question on my lips as Hubby tells me, "It's a flashlight in the backyard."

What? In my fenced backyard? I think even as I am saying "Well go see what it is!" Creepiness has reached a new level here. He heads to the door, while I remain half-standing near the couch reassuring myself that it is probably the neighbors looking for something in their fenced yard. Then I hear Hubby telling someone the dogs are in the house. OK, time to investigate as he and unknown voice talk about the 1/2 empty pool standing in the yard. Insurance agents? Mosquito Patrol? None of the above. It is the police.

Why are the police looking through my backyard, and sure enough as I poke my head out those of my neighbors as well, at well past 10 on a Sunday night? Well, seems my neighbors are missing. MISSING. Grown adults, who have their elderly mother with them are all gone. And they are looking into my pool?? Ugh. Suddenly every shadow may hide a corpse and my mind reels with the question of when she last visited at the fence to talk about the dog or pick grapefruit. Where did they go? Suddenly the movie isn't so appealing and I settle on a DVR'd episode of Parenthood that the flu kept me from last week.

Still no sign of them. Hope everything is ok and they just took a trip and didn't tell anyone...

Friday, January 28, 2011

Sister Steps Up

This is the week that never ends. Beginning with a call Monday afternoon about an exploded radiator from Hubby, it has been nothing but a mad dash. 

Who would've thought living smack in the middle of both of our workplaces could lead to so much driving? Every morning, except today - thank goodness for his four-day-workweek schedule - our one working vehicle has put upwards of 150 miles on it per day! Ughh the hours I have spent driving in fog, rain, and through tornadoes touching down yes the weather decided simply driving endlessly wasn't enough. Plus, before and after school events have been especially heavy this week, only adding to the joy of my week. All this just to say when I finally arrived home after schmoozing with parents until 7:30 last night, I wasn't at the top of my game.

So, it can be forgiven when I inform my fellow readers that even though I know Youngest and her-brain-that-doesn't-quit, I allowed her to pick her bedtime story. Given my heightened level of exhaustion, it wasn't until she began to bury her head in the pillows that it dawned on me The Nutcracker has a scary bad guy that might threaten my chances of zoning out for an hour before bed Youngest's chances of falling asleep. Quickly picking-up the fear factor here, I found a fairy princess place to stop for the night. Hoping upon hope that this would leave her with visions of fairies and magic instead of seven-headed mice.

No such luck. She was up as I was shutting the door.

After repeated attempts to calm, offers of my bed, the dog, a trip to Disney anything that would allow me some down time, she was still unable to sleep. Apparently there are "scurrying noises in this house." Knowing she wouldn't sleep alone and that Teen was not doing homework on the computer in her room, I sent her there. 

The shock on Teen's face at being called to bat was priceless. She gave only meager resistance to this, and allowed Youngest to snuggle in. Within 15 minutes Teen came out to inform us that Youngest was asleep and we could move her now. Uhh, no. My brain was back on line and knew A move would only necessitate the need for Youngest to come into my bed in an hour when she woke with nightmares. I explained that Youngest was huddled in a corner of the bed, was a breeze to sleep with and would be fine until morning. 

Maybe it was Teen's head cold that had sapped her energy for a fight, or maybe she is just really that sweet. Whatever the reason, everyone here got a good night's rest.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Catch and Release

It snatches the bait and you feel a gentle tug on the line. Wanting to keep the little guy, you give some line and out it swims. In its mad dash to freedom it pulls a bit too hard. Then slowly, ever so gently you reel it back a bit. Sensing the need, you feed it more line watching its progress in the dance of away and near. Feeling the give you've offered, it bounds to the weeds. Knowing this direction will only end badly, you gently yet with a firm hand reel it back again. Eventually you land it, only to have the briefest of moments to snap a quick picture, marvel at your success, and set it free. 

After a week of "run and reel" with Teen I used fishing as an analogy to parenting while talking with my mom. She laughed and then told me that parenting is actually like flying a kite - courtesy of Erma Bombeck.
You spend a lifetime trying to get them off the ground.   
You run with them until you're both breathless...
they crash...they hit the rooftop...
you patch and comfort, adjust and teach. 
You watch  them lifted by the wind and assure them that someday they'll fly. 
Finally they are airborne, they need more string and you keep letting it out. 
But with each twist of the ball of twine, there is a sadness that goes with the joy.  
The kite becomes more distant, and you know it won't be long before that beautiful creature will snap the lifeline that binds you together 
and will soar as it is meant to soar, free and alone. 
Only then do you know that your job is done."

Whether your parenting is closer to fishing or kite-flying it is all about the give and take. 

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Senseless Sunday

I have been saving little tidbits in my head in the hopes of collecting enough debris to do a fully-fragmented blog. But, let's just face it my head is too full of debris already and the new bits are in danger of pushing out the old bits along with any trash that is accumulating in there! 

~ I have embarked upon the quest of reading Mark Twain's autobiography. Let me tell you, for a man with no access to blogs to record his life and even a man that has that access his memory is incredible! The entire work, which will encompass three volumes, will be a sight to behold. I have the recently released volume one and the size alone is impressive. Then to read his stories and witness his sarcastic wit a man after my own heart is amazing. But, it will take some time for me to finish...

~ We have wonderful neighbors ok the crazy family down the street not so much . The other night I had a massive fish-fry with the bounty recovered on a recent outing, sent a plate piled high next door and would have sent some across the street, but they weren't home. Just as I was finished cleaning up the grease which was thinly layering the kitchen there was a knock at the door. My charter captain neighbor had pounds more of freshly caught and filleted Amberjack to hand over. We seem to have the fishes thing down, now all we need are the loaves of bread.

~ I recently read a very funny post at Life of a New Dad talking about Toy Story toys. It called to mind an outing with Teen when she was much younger and very much wanted a Woody doll. Imagine my much younger self's amusement and horror at walking through the local retail store with a small girl loudly insisting that she wanted "a big Woody." Ahh, Disney, yet another laugh you take at a parent's expense.

~ Speaking of laughs at my expense here is one just for you... I have been blogging for 2 years. I visit other blogs and make comments much of the time.Yet it was only recently that I actually read the boxes under the comment line to see that you can subscribe to comments. No. I. am. not. kidding. I harp on kids weekly to read directions yet, here I was ignoring the directions and trying to remember where I commented so I could go back and check to see if there were any responses. Then I stopped commenting on people's comments because I thought, well hell, they aren't going to remember and come back to check so who cares right? DUH! So, now I will be a better replier - I promise. If you click that little box you will receive a follow-up comment. 

Now, what are you waiting for...leave some comments!

Friday, January 14, 2011


Rigid with foreboding
i bear witness
to the scene unfolding

Filled with self-loathing's wrath
plummeting down
it's cold ebony path

Passed with few compunctions
were promise, hope
now abandoned junctions

Momentum gains, fate looms
I scream warning
witness with silent blooms

Carried by wind, the shout
i watch helpless
praying for resolve, stout

Rigid with foreboding
i bear witness
to the scene unfolding

Monday, January 10, 2011

Taking the Fall

It was one of those rare and precious moments in the middle school classroom. Students were sprawled or tucked into various corners, book in hand. Not one person was giggling, trying desperately to send-off an illicit text, or mouthing a joke to a nearby friend. There was no emergency need to visit the clinic or the facilities. No one was requiring any redirection of any type.

The entire class was simply engaged in the act of reading. 

Of course, that left me bored. I wove through the silence basking in the glory of this small success, mentally noting the progress of various students. As I monitored an emptier section of class the silence was broken. Not by a pin dropping, rather by a much more human sound. The soft "pfffltt" could be heard around the room. 

Being immediately beside the culprit, I knew from whence the sound had come. But, I allowed the giggles to be directed at me. After all, I have already survived middle school.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Ahh, The Cynicism (of youth)

You have probably read about the strange occurrence of the dying Red Wing Blackbirds in Arkansas. Maybe you have also read about the same type of thing happening in Louisiana. You probably even read about the mass die-off of Drum Fish as well. 

Many people are wondering what happened and why. While we know Otter Thomas at Life of a New Dad likes to hunt, I doubt he was responsible for this many deaths occurring at once ;)  It is a series of events that just makes you scratch your head and say "hmmm." 

With all of this in mind, I was making conversation at dinner last night. I started to ask Teen if she had any thoughts on this matter. Then I stopped mid-sentence. How would the younger 2 view this event? Would it add more worry to Youngest's ever-worrying mind? 

Nothing will get your kids attention faster than starting and stopping a sentence while you reconsider. especially if you say something inane like "oh wait, that may be inappropriate" Suddenly they were all ears. I asked if anyone had seen the news about the birds. Boy piped up that he had, but wanted to know more and Teen said she had briefly looked at it as well. We talked about some of the details and I wondered what had caused these events. 

Within moments of posing this rhetorical question aloud, Teen declared, "It was the government running tests" While Boy proclaimed, "It was aliens."

Maybe I should watch the instant view Netflixs of X-files in my room...

Monday, January 3, 2011

Fish Tales

White knuckled, bouncing and bracing himself, the salt of wind-formed tears mix with the cold spray of the ocean.
"I will be tough. I will not fall into the ocean," is the mantra he repeats silently as the craft hits wave after wave at speeds nearing 50mph on this windswept, high seas day.  

As he lands painfully, nearly knocking himself and his friend onto the white expanse of the deck, he wonders if there will be a pay-off for this harrowing ride under a cloudless sky. Another jostle and miraculously the boat begins to slow. 

The sheltered inlet offers blessed stillness and peace.Tentatively the boys both rise and test their sea legs again. Shaking off their previous fear they offer shaky laughter in response to quips about the ride from their fathers and neighbor while reaching for their poles. 

With poles in hand silently dismissing thoughts of sopping clothes and cold breezes they set to their task in earnest. Casting, reeling, and repeating the process, silent boy prayers are offered to the sea.

A bite, a tug, set the hook and reel it in. Ogle at the size or snap fingers with frustration that a mere inch in length can cause. Laugh with their dads as their bounty grows. And know, perhaps, that this memory is a keeper.

* This story has been pieced together from yesterday's actual adventurous exploit of Boy and Hubby. Though I was not present to witness said adventure, I have shared with you, my friends, the story as I picture it based on the stories all present were eager to share upon their arrival home.