Peach Haiku

(Painting by Maria J. Smith)

that peach,
not ready yesterday,
was ripe today

sweet separation:
flesh from pit,
dripping juice

(Cross-posted at Summer Haiku 2007.)

(They don't call it the Garden State for nothin'!)

Taking Advantage

We had pancakes for dinner last night (I was inspired by the suddenly cooler weather and felt emboldened to fire up the stove for a change, but wasn't feeling all that creative).

I cut the first few into bite-sized pieces for D, but then, once I'd sat down to eat mine, declined his request for help cutting up his second stack.

"The cutting up help goes away once you're six, you know," I said, on the verge of pointing to the calendar to remind him just how close that fateful moment is.

He looked up with a smile, quick as a fox, and said, "I know, so don't you think I should take advantage of it? While I still can?"

So.... I cut up a few more pancakes. :-)

Wisteria Haiku

tendril by tendril,
the wisteria closes
my garden gate

(Cross-posted at Summer Haiku 2007)

Meaningful Tangles

Interesting piece in the current Wired on the mysterious Incan string bundles known as khipu. I have been fascinated by codes – broken and unbroken – for almost as long as I can remember.

Trying to figure out which movie has had the greatest impact how I see the world. (Our headmaster tossed out a little meme challenge last week.)

Saw Hairspray last night (the movie, not the play), and really enjoyed it. Worth the price of admission just to see Allison Janney's pratfall and to hear Queen Latifah say, "We get any more white people in here, it's gonna be a suburb!" Afterwards, though, I was left with the same sense of lingering unease that often accompanies my viewing of a movie that depicts our American "awakening" to racial injustice in the 1960's. I end up feeling like the subtext of the film is something like, That was then, this is now, thank goodness we've come so far. Pass the rose colored glasses; I'll have another helping of denial, please.

I am pleased that D's after-school program in this coming year will be coordinated by the YWCA; I like giving some of my money to an organization that deliberately seeks to engage issues of racial injustice on a continuing basis.

Evening Haiku

Early August –
dusk lags back
to check on bedtime

(Thanks to the women of One Deep Breath
for their continuing inspiration.)

Special Day

The first thing C said as the brightly colored plastic of Great Adventure's Hurricane Harbor came into view was, "I've really been wanting to go to a water park!" Then she said, "I don't really like slides that are TOO big, though." Uh oh, I thought. This could be a short visit. How big is too big?
By the end of our 3.5 hour visit, C had considerably expanded her definition of "small enough," and we had lots of slides to choose from, including the long ones picture above, one of which includes a section that is "pitch dark!" (C's description).

When we needed a break, we headed over to the Lazy Creek, snagged a tube, and drifted downriver. (We wanted to get a double tube, but there weren't enough to go around. We then decided we were perfectly happy to share one big single tube.) (Please be very impressed by my ability to take a picture with a non-waterproof camera while floating on a tube with a seven year old. I know I am.)

Then it was sliding and more sliding...

With the occasional bungee jump tossed in there.

C and I truly enjoyed each other's company,
which is what Special Days are all about.

Treasures

Our little town is full of working professionals and has a ton of summer camp options, but there's nothing quite like the camp at the Friends School. The kids spend a significant time every day in a forest "village" of their own making, and each group's space becomes a testimony to their imagination. On the last day of camp, I followed D and his cousin C (imported from Maryland for the week) into the woods for a tour.

My memory of childhood trips is full of my sister's discoveries of "treasures." These were usually items that someone else had discarded, or never even noticed in the first place, but which took on the luster of spun gold when looked at in just the right way. C takes after her mother in her ability to find magic where others see dirt and rocks; the next two pictures are hers:

C's homemade firepit

C's special rock

C herself, demonstrating the specialness of her rock

Here's to time in the woods and treasures everywhere.

Stewarts

Some of the fun of this week has been introducing C to the outstanding attractions of Mercer County. On Thursday, we told the kids that we'd be going to Stewarts for dinner. "Wahooo! Yesssssss!" yelled D as he jumped and danced around. "What's Stewarts? A restaurant?" asked C. She was clearly having trouble imagining how a restaurant could be fabulous enough to elicit such a response.

"Yes!" exclaimed the dancing D. "It's this restaurant, but you get to stay in your car, and they bring you the food and hang it on your car window, and then you get to just do whatever you want in the car!"

We opened the sunroof:

"Hey, look! We're sitting on the TOP of the car!!!!"

We cleaned out the trunk and let the kids experiment with moving their car seats around (!), pulling the seat-release buttons, and just generally wreaking havoc:


And we stayed until we were the very last car:

C will definitely be doing a little dance of joy the next time we mention the possibility of a run to Stewarts. As we were leaving, a newly-converted and blissed-out C said, "And this wasn't even my special day!"

Mission accomplished. :-)

Decisions, Decisions

In my working life, I am a matchmaker. Of sorts. I mean, I'm not a yente. I deal not with young adults in search of marriage, but with college-bound students who are caught between the stories they've been raised on – "you can do anything you want" – and the reality of their cumulative gpa's.

I am just now starting to get back in touch with some of "my" rising seniors, and the two emotions that color our conversations are excitement and fear.

The excitement is all about finally getting to test their wings a bit... new town, new space, new friends, new challenges. And the fear? The fear is about being unwanted.

Some of my students are keeping it all in perspective. But the ones who are anxious are turning their anxiety like a laser beam on the decisions that await them.

Not their decisions. But those of the colleges to which they'll be applying.

And what I'll be saying to them, over and over again in the coming months, is that it is THEIR decisions that count. Where to visit. What questions to ask. Whose advice to accept. Whose to ignore. How far is too far? How close is too close? How many application essays is too many to do a great job on?

You need to decide, I'll say to them, how comfortable you are with risk. How ready you are for change. How willing you are to let go. How prepared you are to stand up for what you want. How able you are to turn criticism into fuel.

Sure, the colleges will be making decisions. But that's months away yet. Right now, my seventeen year-olds are in the driver's seat. If I can just get them to grab that wheel.

(Thanks to the women of Sunday Scribblings
for their continuing inspiration.)