Saturday, July 22, 2017

The human hand print is much older in Ohio, than say, Arizona. The woods and fields are parceled into perfect squares.  Summer is a quaint, green tapestry.  I would have liked to have followed more of the threads that wove the towns and people, but  that will be for another time.  I never imagined myself wanting to return to this Midwest state when I have Iceland and Australia on my bucket list, but it's true.  America is  still a trove of treasures for even the local traveler. 

The Toth clan reunited at lodges located near Amish country.  In fact we had to drive through the homestead of an Amish family to meet at the main gathering place. Three little boys would  look and wave our way as we sped through their property.  I rolled down the windows and yelled at my kids to be nice,  smile and wave back.

One afternoon, Zander already took the car to the main lodge so I was at our cabin with no vehicle.  He also had my shoes...  Yes!  I will walk with Sam, barefoot on the dirt road, and straight through (with humble pride), the Amish farm.  Surely, they will notice my strength and ability to weather life without the comforts of technology.  Then they will invite me in and give me some jewels of wisdom.   I will be folded into their community, accepted, counted worthy of their simple life style. 

An hour and a half later... The Village soundtrack on repeat, no Amish, hot, thirsty, bruised feet, I decided to rest under the only shady tree for  a mile around and call Zander for a nice and tidy rescue.  As the line is ringing, Sam is poking at something on the ground with a stick.   "What is it boy?" 
"Ahh, ehh, umph!" He says.  I look to see the fresh remains of a large mass of roadkill.  I shudder to think that I could be stepping in some of it's post death excretions.  I inch to the very edge of our shady shared space.  Thankfully Zander answered
his phone, which is rare, but I guess more common than Amish folk taking me seriously. 












I call my friend the Woolly Mammoth.  Looking up into it's branches was dizzying.  Too bad I was trespassing, well I was just innocently chasing a rogue toddler.  I tried my very hardest not to be jealous, but to be thankful that I was even able to momentarily be under it's canopy. 

Friday, June 30, 2017

Once Upon a time we lived in Spring

"Hey Ender, remember when you named your caterpillar Pillow because he was so soft?"  I guess Cora was rummaging through her brain and found a memory from Spring. 















Thursday, May 11, 2017

We all piled into daddy's new car on Christmas Eve.  I know zilch about models and makes and blah blah blah.  All I ask myself is "Does this car speak to my sentimental soul?"  And this one doesn't do it for me. However, if you talk to Zander about it, the car is very remarkable.  Previously owned by an adult nerd who works for Intel, he cared for it like I do my own babies.  Every maintainence appointment meticulously documented,  regularly bathed and cleansed, not a scratch, tear, or stain through and through.  Sadly, it has just occurred to me, he took better care of this car then I do my own kids.  We don't deserve this car, I feel sorry for it.  The first morning, I caught Cora, mindlessly, scratching it's hood with a rock she found.  And then I scraped the side view mirror pulling the recycling can out to the curb and then not to mention Gunther and his entitlement to the front seat. 
Nah, its okay, I bet the car was tired of a life inside a vacuum, now its truly living....

We drove to Wickenburg to get some pie.  I forget the name of the supposedly famous pie shack.  And, apparently, you have to order Christmas Eve pies, which we didn't, so we got someone's unwanted 3/4 scraps.  We drove all the way through the rain to get it and by golly we were going to enjoy it! 

These were the days Sam was still in the early stages of metamorphosing from angel baby to wolf cub. 

And the hassayamp river.





Thursday, March 02, 2017

Hunts Tomb


February 14th.  A valentine & birthday picnic for the love of Arizona.

Our feral children made sure every other valentine couple there seeking a romantic sunset, thought twice about where their intimate actions might lead later that evening. 
Kid's happen. Its science.










 Socks with sandals are must if you never want to be "pinned" by jealous moms on Pinterest. 




Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Crossing the Event Horizon

They buried their boy that afternoon under a weeping sky. Human and heaven tears soaked the earth blanketing their 7 year old baby.  When broken hearts finally tore themselves from his grave, the sky wept on and darkness could not quiet the anguish of the clouds. 
By morning, a bitter, cold wind swept across the tired nimbostratus and set it sailing toward the cerulean west.  Great white ships leaving their harbor of sorrow.

The earth is passing with each life taken by death.  A monster taking another bite, tearing a hole, leaving a Nothing black as sin.  The hole is vacuous, sucking in the light around it. 

I , in the very recent past, learned that at the center of every galaxy is a super massive black hole.  I found this to be quite startling news. "Little" stars like our sun will only fade into a white dwarf.  Others, though, the massive, tremendous ones, burning through the last of their fuel will collapse in on themselves.  These are stellar black holes and their death has such a strong  gravitational pull that not even light can escape from it.

When I was blundering my way through high school, I came across a photo in the margins of my physics text book with a caption that read something a long the lines of,  "Leslie is made up of star dust."  To me, that was confirmation that I, personally, was very unique.  Forget that the authors of the text were just using plain jane "Leslie" to represent every human being.  I was a tad disillusioned, I suppose :)

But it's true.  We are made up of the same stuff of stars.  Today's science says about 90% actually. 
And haven't you felt it when someone in your life has died?  A collapsing.  Your orbit was so close, their death pulls on you, stretches you as you continue to circle them.  I feel it.  The earth groans from the pain of losing so many of her stars. 

A single soul has flung themselves into the Event Horizon.  And one soul has returned with His light intact, shining eternally.  He has gone into the Singularity and rescued our babies, our mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, friends, us. 





Friday, February 03, 2017

Cora, She's Four!



.I can do it myself.

.I'll never give up!

.I can count to 100! (almost)

.Sam cut my hair.  .Sam cut Ender's home work. .Sam cut Grandma's sheets. (forgot to tell you about that one, sorry!)

And today,

.I'm four and I'm here to save the day!

There's a fire that started four years ago and has since to sputter out.  In fact, what was once a small ember is now tiny, flickering flames.  She warms me to my marrow. 





Wednesday, January 04, 2017

It's late morning and the sky hangs like wet steel wool in the sky.  Zander is off for Christmas break and I feel the walls of this house sigh with relief.  Ender and Gunther especially do well when hes home.  Cora and Sam are napping and the older boys are at the library.  So that just leaves me.

Junipine was all about the zip line.  After Zander's tarzan demonstration, I opted out of partaking of the "fun".  It required hurdling yourself through a bush and then gouging the earth away with your feet in order to stop before you hit the end of the line.

So we strung up the kids and sent them sailing.  Sam had no choice in the matter.


Our attempt at a family Christmas photo.  Nobody was trying.  Lost cause.  Besides, Gunther the most important member was in shadow.




Anymore these days I quit packing toys to take with us up north. 





Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Sammy D

"And now it's time for a handsome little bookend"



Sam is the kind of sugar pie I made as a child.  Dragging tin pans out to the mud and whipping up batches of delicious servings of goopy concoctions all afternoon.  Confections of grit and grass mixed in with the muddy slop added texture and pizazz.  Sam is your imagination incarnate of the dirty days of childhood.  I revel in his stink and filth.  His vagabond ways have me charmed.  You can hear him chirping and grunting as he investigates and takes apart the backyard.  If I remember, I quickly run out there to pick up Gunther's poop before Sam inspects that for quality control.  Frantically, I'm scooping, I hear him coming with heavy, excited breathing.  Faster I move, raking the poop onto the poop pan.  I see him out of the corner of my eye with a big grin shoving his cheeks in lumps of dough under his eyes.  He gets close enough to proudly show me that he can help too.  In both hands are two of Gunther's turds which he matter of factly plops onto the collection of poop.  Nodding with satisfaction I see him scan the ground for more.  "Uh, thank you Sam, no more all done, goodbye!  Go away."  I throw a ball.  "fetch Sam, fetch the ball!"  He toddles off down the walk after the bouncing distraction.