Hello my loves
As I write to you, half my coffee gone, the smallest feet in the house coming down the stairs right now, I am already behind the eight ball. We are supposed to walk to school but it is overcast and rained last night and (says in her whiniest voice) I don’t wanna!!! We “stayed up late” (past nine) watching silly TV and that reminds me: Does anyone else remember that time the Duchess of Windsor was in Horrible Bosses? Me neither.
I’m here to show the pictures burning a hole in my camera / pocket this week, but first, one of our money-motivated children made this and brought it home in their art portfolio:
It’s an infinity dollar bill (“infinity money”).
Sign me up!
The last two photos are from Tim’s camera and I have no idea why Sale Pants is a different size from Dirty Try-On Socks. Maybe Sale Pants are their own universe with their own sizing system.
Some people are opening their cabins this time a year. We opened the public beach an hour and a half away. There was a wedding party all garbed up in their finery taking professional photos. Did I unselfconsciously snap away, too? You bet. You don’t sneeze at gifts from the gods! You get in there with your rattling phone and all but join the party, trading quips with the photographers themselves.
Was it a perfect day? Well, the bathrooms overflowed and the foot washers weren’t working so we took home approximately thirty cubic tons of sand. But it was fun and exactly what we wanted: an opening weekend for “summer” / aid so we don’t show up at vacations this season with vampire legs.
I want to find this one Instagram account that cracks me up about kids who bring home too many rocks (“rock infestations”) but I can’t find it right now. Hashtag relatable. One of my kids wears coats that consistently weigh ten extra pounds because of their mystery cedar shavings / twigs / rocks in pockets.
I’m reading David Sedaris’s Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim for the third or fourth time (okay maybe second or third). Sedaris is like Anne Lamott for me - I can pick up any page and follow along. I can also spit out my breakfast laughing. Catnip!
Am I breaking my own rule about reading one book at a time? You know I am. I’ve got a scientific mental health book going, an inner child book going, a book about relationships, a book about witches, and half a dozen “hopefuls” on my nightstand and owl end table. Am I a bad girl? Yes!!!
On Sunday, we participated in a Girls on the Run . . . well, run. I kept calling it a race and our daughter was like, “WHAT, IT’S A RACE??? NO ONE TOLD ME!” Then I’d backup and say, “No, no, it’s just a run. You can go whatever pace you want.” Lol, sorry to make you panic, girl! We signed up this spring kind of on a fluke. To be honest, I didn’t fully understand the impact of Girls on the Run’s mission. I played the hell out of sports as a kid and didn’t feel like extra push was needed to ensure my kids also stay active. So I didn’t really get it, but my daughter seemed to like meeting with friends after school and running through the woods twice a week while teachers yelled at them to “finish strong!” and half of them rolled their eyes.
But/and I was SO emotional seeing Michigan State’s campus full of hot pink shirts and tents on Sunday, whole families with babies in mesh tents and dads with ribbons in their man buns running alongside children of all ages, some people in tutus, some in T-shirts tucked up to show their abs. To look across a field full of humans gearing up to run a race organized with a mission to support girls and build their confidence and self-esteem . . . oh my goodness, it makes me emotional all over again to write about it.
I think the development of self-esteem can’t be tackled by a single season’s activity but added to our collective toolkit of seeing and supporting and holding up little kids, not letting them slide into the tar pits of patriarchy awaiting them on the other side of adolescence (or already grabbing them by the ankles), well, I think this organization’s efforts are pretty remarkable.
The run made me think I should just be Googling runs in my area, going out with a mug of coffee and screaming my head off for participants, lol. There was a station to put gem stickers on your face (raises hand) and a sign station with paint markers for the littlest. It was a happy two hours. Did I have resistance to leaving the house before noon on a weekend? Yes! The event sure showed me. I clapped for every runner that passed, much to my fellow sign holder’s disgruntlement, and got to remember how much I like cheering for others. I was a major yeller at/for teammates as a highschool athlete and the tendrils of who that girl is/was unfurled themselves in my veins.
I have joked with Jef Otte that when I finished my coaching course, I wanted a sateen jacket with the word COACH emblazoned on the back, channeling my field hockey coach from high school (hers was royal blue, thank you much). Writing this now while thinking about how much I have always liked cheering (catch me at a parade, I dare you) the jacket keeps floating up before my eyes. (Make Sateen Great Again!)
To that point, I worked on my website a little yesterday and kept cracking myself up describing my work. I need to make it more serious/dignified, but man, the thought of wearing a jacket around town advertising myself as a coach gives me the same set of giggles. I take coaching really seriously but goodness do I love making fun of America’s relationship to advertising.
Incidentally the red above is the exact shade an elderly woman wore to the coffee shop where I was first inspired to get myself a jacket. Because that’s what hers was: devil red, sateen, the word coach sailing away, stamped on her back (and my memory) like a license plate as she paid for her coffee and walked out of the shop and my life forever (but not before giving me one of my favorite mental bits of the year).
Okay, that’s enough silliness. I saw a lot of great books this week and didn’t buy any of them! Because reality. BUT you know I wanted to get that Rolling Stone anthology and I’ll take anything Of Wolves and Men until the day I die.
I am off to do The Things including make lists I will then ignore for an upcoming camping jaunt. I had a dream last night that an airplane crashed and I wanted to go back in for my electric blue backpacking pack. The one I never use anymore! What gives, subconscious? Two nights ago, I had the most perplexing but comforting dream about an old friend from high school. Wowzas, my brain’s been busy at night.
Sending you blue skies, whatever color and size sateen jacket you prefer (but really, what color would you choose?), zero reading discipline, carpets full of paint and sand, compost I still haven’t solved for its too-wetness, and . . . the best gear for all your changing weather!
May your week be grand, may your buds have your back.
XOXOXO
Kara
P.S. Reminder:
That Rod Stewart haircut though!
I laughed out loud when you shared not one, but multiple pictures of random groomsmen running awkwardly down a sand dune lolllll
Weird dreams here too, including an aeroplane one. Full moon, anyone?
I'm going to have a T-shirt that says "Would you like coaching with that?" I'll get it in different colours but mostly purple.