liquid sunshine

Editing the blog the other day, Caitlin sitting on my lap, looking at her picture on the header said, "I miss that hat."

 I miss that hat too now.  It was time for a change, but I feel a sense of loss now.

 The hat, purchased at the Great Wall some years ago, was packed in a box and shipped off to Maryland, and the picture, which is what I meant, of scowl and freckles and plastic jewels, and the "owie" on her elbow is somewhere in the hopefully retrievable memory of one of the three laptops that Grant and William destroyed this summer by excessive force, fire and water, sent off to an early death, should have bought the warranty. That kind of thing. I didn't think about that until after I'd changed the header, sent that cute picture off to cyber world. I'm getting entirely too nostalgic about this.

Another thing on Caitlin's mind, "I miss China, cause we could eat in the living room."  Anyone remember the Raines carpet?  It was a  famous disaster.  I remember when the first chocolate chip fell from a hot, gooey, cookie. Then it was over.

I feel like rambling today.  Wednesday September 22  what a collection of weathers. First a clap of thunder, then a bit of rain, looked the next minute at sunshine over the mountain.  My mom said they call it liquid sunshine in Hawaii. I thought it felt like laughter through tears.

I don't look at Geraniums without thinking of Andrew Wyeth, but the Olsens' were more nicely situated.  I should take the price tag off.

My front stairs in the rain.

Front stairs in the sunshine and fall shadows.

The park and mountains after the rain.

My flag in the wind, which kept opening the front door, felt bad locking it out.

We even had a bit of hail, driving to preschool today.

Yesterday, took Grant to the doctor. His surgery was successful, the whole mole was removed and cancer free. Grant is still enjoying his bandage.

The Fed-ex guy drove up to day. Knocked loudly. Sophie's hospital photo-shoot pictures arrived. That's something for tomorrow. 

When we lived in our little housing project in Maine I used to look out the kitchen sink window for entertainment. Who was yelling at their kids in the driveway, who was chatting by the garbage, who was getting a delivery from rent-a-center, getting soaked no doubt, a big screen television they surely couldn't afford, who was getting a Fed-ex? One day we got one, and then we were gone.