and we liked it that way!”
I can just hear Zoe saying this to her grandchildren.
You know, she’d almost have a point.
Today, the big fancy playground sat empty while Zoe, Ben, and Lucy played on an enormous pile of dirt.
And loved it.
Of course, Zoe’s grandchildren would also have photographic evidence that she is a total nut and would assume her memory could not be trusted…
You know it’s been a while since a post on your blog when you start checking your own blog to see if you posted anything…
Just checked and the answer was “no.”
I think the next time I check, something new will be there. If only it had a picture…
Oh wait, it does!
But I can’t take credit for it.
This is one of the first photos my friend Emily took with her seriously cool new camera. It’s my all-time favorite.
Zoe and Vera.
I heard on my way in to work this morning that Kurt Vonnegut died yesterday. This was the reported epitaph he had written for himself:
“The only proof he needed for the existence of God was music.”
I have chewed on that all day.
Zoe saying this to me as she passed me communion this morning was the best part of Easter. I’m not sure that life gets better than this, being offered communion by my own child. It felt so tinged with holiness that I didn’t quite know where to look. Fortunately, soon after passing each of us the elements (the bread to me, the cup to Mark), Zoe began the busy task of finding the exact place to put her square of bread or her “teensy weensy tiny cup.”
We had a lovely Easter. Breakfast at church. Lunch with Mark’s parents—complete with a sweet treasure/egg hunt for Zoe. An afternoon of playing school. And an evening worship service for which Mark played guitar and Zoe stage whispered during the message, “Why is he talking about cell phones? He’s supposed to be talking about Easter!”
A day to celebrate the empty tomb. A full heart. And lungs filled with nothing but air.
We just returned from a week with my sister and her husband and the Charming Little People who are our nieces and nephew. Just as I am convinced that had Becki not been my sister I would have wanted to grow up to be just like her anyway, so am I convinced that the other members of her lovely family would still have occupied dear and exalted places in our hearts regardless of their parentage.
Here is our week in photos. General silliness at the Veal home including Zoe and Ramona as ninjas, Ramona as a Koala Bear (holding on to me quite well). A hamster race for which signs were made well ahead of time and a replacement hamster was purchased minutes before the race. (One hamster was destined not to compete–Blackie, in a bizarre twist on an already surreal officially sanctioned hamster race, was found lifeless in his cage a half hour before the race. Investigation pending.) The requisite zoo trip (let’s say it leaves John Ball Zoo handily in the dust). And a trip to the aquatic center.
Mark and I also had some great adult time with Jim and Becki. Wonderful meals. Lots of laughing. And I got to meet several of Becki’s dear friends. In the relatively short time I spent with them, it was easy to see why Becki loves them. It was just such a soul-nourishing week.
Then, we had a rude awakening upon returning home…
