Smacksy Saturday Photo: The Pickin' Stick

Mr. Rosenberg received this in the mail today from my cousin in Texas. It's a Pickin' Stick, related to the mountain dulcimer. He had never seen one before. Isn't it lovely?

The Structure of Joy

Bob spent the week at Dodger Camp, a baseball skills day camp put on by the LA Dodger organization. He got to practice with MLB coaches and meet some Dodger alumni and current players. He had fun. Joy has been oozing out of him since Monday. (Oozing joy is more appealing than it sounds)

Tonight, we went to a game: Dodgers versus the Rockies. Our seats were next to the Dodger bullpen and just as starting pitcher Rich Hill walked on the field, he stopped and signed a ball for Bob. The woman we were sitting next to told us she has season tickets and has had her same seat next to the bullpen for fourteen years. She told Bob that in fourteen years, she had never seen any pitcher agree to sign an autograph while in the bullpen. Cue The Ooze of Joy. We also ate churros we bought from the churro guy who walked through the stands waving warm churros at the crowd yelling, "Churrrrrrrrrrros!"

When you locate the thing that causes you to ooze joy, figure out a way to do a lot of that thing. This past week of All Baseball All the Time was an amazing one for Bob. Now let's figure out our thing, you and me. I have a couple of ideas. What should you be doing?

Behold the Cousin of Rodrigo

My friend Anna L has a mug named Rodrigo. A few years ago, Anna L gave me a mug that looks just like Rodrigo, but is in fact his cousin, who I named Joaquín. Joaquín is the mug I pull out of the cabinet when I need a lift because it's impossible to stay down when you're holding a steaming cup of coffee wrapped in a rainbow unicorn.

It has also been my experience that if you are trying to argue while holding Joaquín, no one will take you seriously. Sometimes that is a good thing. There's so much turmoil and rabid argument going on in the outside world, is it necessary to carry the arguments home? I think not. Enter Joaquín, the peacemaker.

Top me off, Joaquín.

A Pretty View

Mr. Rosenberg is in Seattle this evening. This is the view from his hotel room and it was still light outside there while it was already dark here even though it's the same time both places and that's yet one more thing I never knew was a thing.

I See the Moon, the Moon Sees Me

I take a lot of photos of the moon, usually from my front steps. All the pictures look about the same - same moon, from the same steps. The only thing different is me, I guess, but the part of me that loves looking at the moon, always stays the same.

Sunday Love

Yesterday we spent the day at The Gentle Barn. It's an incredible place that explains what they do like this: "The Gentle Barn rescues animals from severe abuse and neglect who are too old, sick, lame, or scared to be adopted into homes. We are sanctuary to horses, donkeys, cows, pigs, sheep, goats, turkeys, chickens, llamas, peacocks, emus, cats and dogs. Once rehabilitated, the animals help us give hope and inspiration to children with the same stories."

On Sundays, the general public is allowed to visit. Mr. Rosenberg and Lela the goat were quite fond of each other. Bob was really into an emu he hung out with named Earl. We all got hugs from a sweet cow named Karma. It's a good place full of good people doing good things for good animals.
Mr. Rosenberg says it's like church. I agree because the best kind of churches are about love and so is The Gentle Barn.

Smacksy Sunday Links

Waiting in line.

Mary Moon's I don't know what we've become.

How far behind?

The dos and don'ts of growing basil. 

John Derian lives in a sea captain's house.

Do you have a favorite poem?

And a cat covered with baby chicks. 

Happy Sunday.

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Bullpen

Set.

Brown Eyes

Woke up from a little nap to this. How'd I get so lucky?

Today is Mr. Rosenberg's Birthday

It's this guy's birthday. We are celebrating around here because we like him tons. Just tons.

It Went Like This

On Sunday, Mr. Rosenberg received a catcher's glove and mask from Bob for Father's Day.

On Monday, Bob practiced pitching to Mr. Rosenberg. Mr. Rosenberg used the new glove but did not wear the mask. Mr. Rosenberg took a hard curve ball to the left cheek bone. They whole family spent the evening at the ER while Mr. Rosenberg received a CT-scan, ruling out a concussion.

On Tuesday, Mr. Rosenberg had a non-cancel-able DMV appointment to have his photo taken for his new Driver's License/ID. His swollen and bruised face will appear on this new card until 2028.

On Wednesday, Mr. Rosenberg had to answer the question, "What happened to your face?" approximately 47 times as he walked through his office. As he reports it, this story always ends with, "...because I'm dumb."

When All Else Fails

Here's a strike for your Tuesday evening. 

Insta Spy

You may not remember the throw pillow that Levi ate last fall. I know, he hate a few, but this one specifically was the Navin Print Lumbar Pillow. You may not remember, but somehow Pottery Barn Instagram seems to think I might be in the market for a new one. Who told them?

Smacksy Sunday Links

Sometimes, he likes to hold my hand.

In praise of an afternoon at the movies.

Why I never feel alone when I cook.

An incredible grocery list collection.

These borrowed words.

And the best cat painting.

Happy Sunday, Happy Father's Day. 

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Solid Advice

Exactly.

Last Night

Some nights, you will casually glance out the window and immediately run to the corner to take a photo of This Sky. This Sky is the same sky as yesterday and the day before but it doesn't always look like This Sky. So, you take a picture because, as everybody knows, it lasts longer.

That Part of the Call When Things Start Falling Apart

1. One of us is playing Fortnight.
2. One of us is fake smiling.
3. One of us is returning from China tomorrow.
4. All of us are glad about #3.

A Wednesday Night Bob Pitch

Strike One.

Do Your Job

Teddy, doing his job.

Bob's baseball coaches teach the players that everyone is on the field to do a job. The position you're playing is your job. You've been taught how to do your job. If you are unprepared or not paying attention you are not doing your job. If you're being lazy or timid, you are not doing your job. If you strike out looking, probably not doing your job.

"Do your job, son!" they'll yell. "Make a play!"

I adopted this idea and applied it elsewhere. When someone in front of us on the freeway was driving 40 mph in the fast lane, "Do your job, Red Toyota Camry!"

"Mom. No."

When I threw a carrot to Teddy and he missed it, "Make a play, Ted!"

"Please. Mom."

This morning I peeked into Bob's room. "Did you make your bed yet, Bob?"

"Not yet."

"Do your job, Bob!"

"Mom, really. Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"Just, please don't."

"Aw, come on. It's my new thing."

"Nope."

"Not my job?"

"Mom."

Feets

She said no. Well. If I slide down this real slow-like, maybe she won't notice I was ever up here.

Smacksy Sunday Links

How you know it's June.

The best advice.

A real apology has three parts.

Giving myself a dress code changed my life.  I am on board with this 100%

And hedgehogs on floaty flamingo rafts.

Happy Sunday.

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Dusk

Dusk is one of the best times at the beach. The other best times are all of the rest of the times.

My New Creed

The only thing constant is change. And baseball. And dog hair.

Night Practice

This evening I took my usual place in the stands and watched the team practice. I could have dropped off Bob, gone home for awhile, and come back at the end to pick him up. And because there's nowhere else I'd rather be and nothing else I'd rather be doing, I stayed there, and I did that.  

First Day of Summer Vacation

Today's Schedule:

3:00 PM Get my life together
3:02 PM Live totally together life

(I'll let you know how that's going.)

Goodbyes and Water Balloon Wars

At Bob's school, on the last day of the school year, it is a tradition that the graduating fifth graders take part in a water balloon toss with the teachers. It's loud, and messy, and wonderful. And when it's all over, the teachers grab handfuls of water balloons and pelt the whole class. It's all fond chaos and that's the best definition I know of leaving elementary school behind forever.

Tomorrow is the Last Day of Elementary School

On his last day of kindergarten, Bob surprised me by finally climbing the big tree in the playground at the park, all by himself. Today was Bob's fifth grade promotion ceremony and tomorrow is his last day of elementary school. I am excited for him and pretty sure I am feeling a-okay about the whole situation except for the part where I couldn't sleep last night and was looking at baby pictures at 2:00am but that seems totally normal for someone who's not freaking out at all.

Middle school, here he comes.

Smacksy Sunday Links

Make do.

Baby Trip Advisor. Perfect.

Bill Gates' picks for summer reading. 

Let's all just get to a cabin now.

Palestine and Jerusalem in 1919.

And this kitten riding a turtle is everything about the internet.

Happy Sunday.

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Who Gets the Bed?

They flipped a coin and Levi won. (He called tails. He always calls tails.)

You Can Do That Thing You Want to Do

Never, never, never give up. And remember to dance a little.
Gloria Steinem