The Low Down

"Mom, I was looking at a Barbie the other day."

"Yeah?"

"There's a lot of pink, usually with Barbie."

"What do you think about that?"

"It's not really my thing. And her smile?"

"Yes?"

"It's just creepy. I mean, you can't deny that, Mom."

Sleepy

A lot of my day is spent hanging out with this guy. He follows me from room to room like dogs do. He will sit patiently, waiting for ear scratches but if they run out, he will demand more. We talk a lot. Rather, I talk and he listens. Except for those times when he points out that my conversation is just barely interesting enough to keep him awake. 

Winky

"Check it out, Mom! I made something called a Shrinky Dink at camp today."

"Cool. I didn't know those were still around."

"Yeah. You draw on this plastic and then you put it in the oven and it gets all hard."

"I know, they had those when I was a kid too."

"They did?"

"There was a show about a guy named Winky Dink and you would put the plastic over the screen and trace his drawings on the TV."

"Whoa. Did MeeMee's have them when she was a little girl too?"

"No. When MeeMee was a very little girl, they only had radio."

"But then how did you trace pictures on a radio?"

About Summer

Summer is filling up water balloons in the kitchen sink. It's concerts in the park with grown ups dancing while you and your friends eat tacos from the stand in the blue tent.  It's belly-flopping when you're trying to dive. Summer is talking into a fan to hear your voice sound like a robot.

Summer is sleep-overs when it isn't even the weekend. Summer is watermelon for breakfast and the reading club at the library. It's hitting tennis balls in the backyard and one always gets stuck on the roof. Summer is holding your hand in the wind outside the window of the station wagon and feeling what it's like to fly. It's swimming in your grandma's pool while she sits in the Jacuzzi.

Summer is a hot storm at night and when your dog comes into the house he shakes off on your bed and gets you wet from the rainwater. It's YMCA basketball in the gym with the wood floors that make your shoes squeak. It's sleeping in your underpants with no blanket. It's riding to day camp in the backseat between two of your best friends. It's lizards under the porch. Summer is the smell of wet cement and the sound of ice in the drinks.

Summer is reading The Hardy Boys right before bed but it's still light outside. It's running through the sprinklers with your clothes on. Summer is flip flops. It's the beach and the taste of salt water in your mouth and real sand in the sandwiches. It's the sound of the back of your thighs as they peel off of the lawn chair. It's garage sales and lemonade stands and corn on the cob. Summer is the 4th of July parade and barbecues. It's fireworks that rain down ash on your head.

Summer is possibility and days that last forever.

Smacksy Sunday Links

"Sorrow passes and we remain." A beautiful letter written by Henry James to a grieving friend.

When cocoa farmers taste chocolate for the first time. Lovely.

A baby deer freaks out when tummy rubs stop.

Happy Sunday.

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Happy Face

He's smiling. For you.

Ask The Dance Expert

"They have incredible technique, don't they, Mom? I mean, oh my gosh. Those turns are amazing. That last couple seemed a little wobbly and she sort of slipped and then pulled some weird faces. But look at that elevation! And those guys with the paso doble? That was really intense. It's going to be hard to vote tonight."