Vacation Thought No. 2

It was stingray season at the beach. Did you know there was such a thing? Well, ‘tis the season for big giant sheets with mouths in the middle to slink past you in knee-deep water and whack a poisonous barb at your ankle.

Really, I do love the stingrays. They’re graceful and beautiful and alien, their mouths look smiley and they’re really just a gentle thing looking for little fishies to gobble. They just happen to have this unfortunate Wand of Intense Pain hanging off of their backsides.

We saw a big pack of them flopping around right where the waves were breaking. Their corners flipped up and looked like darty, spooky fins cutting the waves, and tricked us into thinking we were standing ankle-deep in shark-infested waters. It was just the type of nature drama we are thrilled to report when we encounter wildlife found outside of the state of Indiana.

Vacation Thought No. 1

Can I brag for a minute? My Bird—THE Bird—was the best little traveler on our trip to Hilton Head last week. Three flights, ten total hours in the car, three different beds and a week in a beach house with six adults and no kids to play with and precious few toys and still. She was chipper and good-natured and cooperative. (Only one true meltdown and one major injury, both of which I will describe later.) She pee-peed in the scary/ stinky airplane potty and was perfectly happy to entertain herself with shells and toys when she needed quiet time in the house. She lavished attention right back at my parents and my brother and sister-in-law and was sweet and delicious and funny. She asked to be excused from the table, used her inside voice, and threw please and thank you around like a raquetball.

Not that two-year-olds should be held to adult standards or manners as a measure of good behavior. It’s not like I have a buttoned-up Yes-Ma’am kid. She’s a spirited little bird and a powerful little joy-force that may or may not be wearing clothes at any given moment. But she is so agreeable, so generous, so thoughtful and of such a pleasant disposition. She’s so much fun to be around, and I am more grateful than I can describe to have had a full, uninterrupted week of her silly, loving company.

Back now, more soon

Birdy's Daycare Provider asked her where she went on vacation.

She said, "We went to LUNCH!"

An end-of-naptime quickie in 4 parts

Proabably four times in the last few weeks, our power has been out at home. Sometimes we're here to experience it, coming in from the backyard in the sunshine and flipping useless switches, sometimes we come home from work to a blaring stereo and blinking clocks.

Every time it happens, we find three or so dead birds, fried right up, piled under the utility pole with the huge gray box on top in the alley behind our house.

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I am going to organize a campaign in the fall to banish the word "Best" used alone as a closing in emails and letters. As in,

Blahblah blah blah nonsense blah blah please let me know your feedback and I will relay it to the client.

Best,
Joe Coworker."

I get a lot of these. I fucking hate it. Don't do that.

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We are going on vacation in less than a week, with my whole family, and I could not be more ready or more excited. And when I return I have pledged to be a little purging dervish, donating or tossing every single item in this house I don't use or love. I'm thinking of giving myself a goal , like 1,000 things. Ambitious.

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My bird is waking up whiny as we speak. Eeeeh. Eeeeeeeeeeehhh. Eeeeeeeeehhhhhhh. I'm going to go set her free again into the world of the fully awake.

This morning she sat still like a little churchmouse, hands folded on the Book of Common Prayer and eyes straight ahead, singing out of an upside-down hymnal. Cutest. Thing. Ever.