Lost and Found

In the whirlwind of Irene and the week before school I have lost track of myself. It's somewhere in this mess. I'll find it. Everything shows up at some point around here. And besides, I'm good at finding things.

We lost power for 31 hours. That's it. We didn't lose a roof, a road, or even a house. Not even a basement full of crap. We may have lost a few trees, but Paul Bunyan says that just saves him gas for his chain saw.


Bee lost in the house training game on the day of the storm.

But in the last couple of days Timmy lost his front toof. Paul Bunyan and I lost about $200 bucks at the fair last night (oh, wait, no. We didn't lose that. We spent that). Auggie lost the stuffed dog he won at the dart game. I lost my shit at the Demolition Derby, or more likely on the Storm ride. Claire lost her battle with lice. The lice are winning. I'm going to win in the end...but for now they're winning.

We tried to extend summer so long that I was taking off the boys' nail polish THIS morning. Yea yea, they got their nails painted at Claire's spa. You wanna make somethin' of it? You would have wanted to too. She can get pretty nasty if you turn down her free services. Of course, in hind sight, I'm now wishing the boys had turned down that shampoo and style.

We tried to extend summer so long that waking up and going to school this morning was something we hadn't really even talked about. I hadn't even gotten back packs out of the closet until this morning. Of course, procrastinating is my trademark. Someday I'll learn, but even waiting until yesterday (the last day) to pick blueberries didn't even teach me. They were definitely not as sweet.


So not thinking about this:


was probably a good thing because when Timmy went to the left and Auggie went to the right, I almost lost it. It's the first time in seven years that they will be separated. Seven years!! Will they come back together at recess today? Will they say 'hi' at lunch? Will they want to spend all their time after school together? Will they still want to cuddle on the top bunk every now and again? Will they miss each other? Will they tell each other that they missed each other? I'm losing it right now (in a different way than I lost it at the Demolition Derby).

And so as I sit here in this quiet house with them gone and Paul gone and the Bee snoring and me wondering where to start searching again for my lost self and how to go about dealing with this loss of summer....


I'm reminded that sometimes finding things after they've been lost is a joyous joyous thing.

Filling the Hole.

When I was in ninth grade in my podunk little middle school (our high school was 10, 11, 12 back then) I had this sweet CB windbreaker. You might not have been familiar with the CB brand but I was wicked, wicked cool because my windbreaker had CB in big big letters on the back. It was red and navy blue and like I said I looked wicked, wicked cool. I looked so wicked, wicked cool that someone stole (STOLE, I tell ya) that awesome windbreaker out of my podunk little locker.

I cried for days. Days, I tell ya.

And because I am the way I am, I tried to replace that wicked, wicked cool jacket with the SAME exact one. I have a very hard time losing things and if I do, I have this tendency to want to replace them with the very same thing. I've done it with earrings, sheets, running sneakers....well, you get my drift. I don't like change.

So when I finally dusted my tears off and dried myself up I went right back to the store that I had bought that cool jacket at and tried to find another exact wicked cool jacket, with the big CB on the back. Nu-uh. No such luck. Not only was there NOT one there in navy blue (only royal blue), that royal blue jacket also did NOT have the big CB logo on the back. I remember struggling with the decision on whether to buy that second jacket, which was not, definitely NOT as cool, or do I go without a CB jacket, which was also definitely not cool, AT ALL.

I took the replacement.

If only I had the internet back then.

It was definitely NOT as cool. I distinctly remember feeling NOT as cool.

I was remembering this story on my way home from Arnold's Lake last Wednesday. I got to bypass the very fun (depending on your viewpoint) boy's birthday celebration at Splashwater Kingdom and drive right past the crowded cest pool of piss and shit because I had Sydney dog (who wouldn't be able to hang out in the parking lot for 8 hours). So, I drove straight up to Plattsburgh on 87 to pick up this wicked cool thing:




Something (the universe) stole my very favorite wicked cool dog on Mother's Day this year. And as I drove that northern NY thruway, I struggled with the thought that I was trying to exactly replace that wicked cool dog. Now, I'm not stupid, although some people might think that because, well, because I sometimes do stupid shit. But I'm not. And we definitely were NOT going to get another black lab. But there was this black hole that was not getting filled by Sydney dog who a) doesn't wag her tail when you walk into the room, b) doesn't come running when you drive up the driveway, c) doesn't really give a shit about where you are or what you're doing. AND because a) Paul Bunyan's colleague bred her beautiful beautiful chocolate lab with her beautiful beautiful yellow lab and they had 9 beautiful beautiful black lab puppies, 2) and 6 of those black lab puppies were females, 3) and 2 of those puppies had white patches on their chests (just like Liebe), 4) and 1 of those puppies had our name on its butt when it was born, it all seemed so just MEANT TO BE!

So there I was with a little dooper dog on my lap and an angry 12.5 year old bitch in the back of the van as I crossed the ferry into VT wondering if this was the right decision. I mean seriously, no one will ever be my Liebewitz again. What were we thinking?

When I pulled into my weedy weedy yard I let out the dooper to let her sniff around her new home and I went up the hill into the green barn where the mice have congregated to get away from Hunter's malicious murdering sprees and I lifted out Liebe's old kennel. The dooper watched me scrub the nine years worth of cobwebs out and then she climbed in and claimed it as hers.

I was waiting for both the birthday boys and Claire to return and also for my brother and his family to arrive and so I sat on the front porch steps to shuck some corn for dinner. The dooper dog came from inside the house and sat down right next to me. I looked down at her and she looked up at me and I realized at that moment that the hole was filled.



And it felt wicked, wicked cool.

Twofers

The two for ones are 7 today. I am in denial that some day I won't be able to pick them up.

Ima Belcher, Not a Fisherwoman

My grandfather Ike used to have an old wooden row boat. It was originally blue. And then we painted it white. And for the longest time it was blue and white. And when it was my turn to bail the sucker, I would squeeze bits and pieces of lead paint from the sponge right into the crystal clear waters of Arnold Lake.





I'm not sure if I've told you the story about when my father rowed me down to the other end of the lake in that said rowboat and took me fishing. I may have been 6. Possibly 7.





He made me bait my own worm.





And then we would sit. for. what. seemed. like. hours.





And if we did catch something, I had to take that slimy sunny off the hook myself.






My father would belch and fart. And I would cry to have him take me back home.





He must have been cognizant of the fact that he was ruining any sort of love of fishing that I might have ever had.






He's not a stupid man.



And I know he really loves fishing.





But I don't really think he ever anticipated me....




coming to some day love the belching and farting thing. That completely backfired on him.






These boys might not remember enjoying the walleye fish fry. They may not remember not having to bait their own minnows. Or not having to take any fish off of any line.



But I am 100% sure...





they'll remember how fast that Mercury 225 hp engine went.

Wombat World Meets Ricker Pond

Only if you have 7 minutes with nothing to do:

Flight of Adolescence

My baby got on a jet plane all by herself today and flew away. Away up in the sky. Alone. That's like, without me, or Paul.


She's 9 (nine). And this pin was the only thing that yelled out to the world that she needed to be taken care of. Because she seems all of 19 to me. Except the part about where I have to tell her to hang up her wet bathing suit. And also how to be nice.



But she's headed to the border of Canada to learn how to become more of a strong spirited woman. Not sure we really want more of this strong spirited thing, but as long as she comes home with a greater sense of who she is, then all will be well.


We got new gear. We got iron-on labels. We got a new headlamp. New dry bag. New sleeping bag. New dop kit. New travel size hair brush, body wash, shampoo, toothpaste, tissues. Yup.



And still, the ripped Converse made it in.

We woke up in the dark and pulled quietly away from a sleeping house. We talked about who she might meet, what she might do. We bought candy at the Gulf station. She ate half of it before we made it to the United desk. We made it through security. We waited to board. I gave her away.


She sat next to a man named Stan. He was very nice. I later noticed that he had a very big nose. I only noticed this because everyone had to get off the plane. They were on "hold". Everything in and out of Chicago was on stand still.


We sat and waited patiently. She ate the rest of her candy. It was 7 a.m.




At 8 a.m. this woman had to tell all the people on the plane that their lives would be wrecked, ruined, destroyed for that one day. The flight was canceled. But she didn't know the disappointment that my daughter would feel.

They turn you away and say there is nothing we can do. But camp is waiting, we say. I'm sorry they say, there is nothing available out of Burlington for two days. Two days?? we say. Yes, but you can drive to Manchester, N.H. and leave tomorrow. But camp is waiting, we say. I'm sorry they say. But they're not. You can tell.

And so we go home. And make plans. And find alternative places for boys who would not like this adventure (thanks Spin!). And we drive 2.5 hours south to an empty, vacant house stuffed with a month's worth of stale air. The house I grew up in. We throw open the windows, pop a bag of popcorn, watch an instant movie, turn on the fan, and fall asleep on a bed without sheets. I wake at 3. It's time to send her away. Again.

We drive 20 minutes to Manchester. Buy 2 maple frosted donuts. Drive over a curb. Buy more candy. Half of it's gone by 6. Wait for more paperwork.

Please would all unaccompanied minors board the aircraft at this time. She is first. I am not ready. I don't even have my camera. Bye Mom. Bye Mom? She jumps up and goes. Ready yesterday. Even the day before yesterday. I am not ready yet. I am not ready for you to be okay without me. I am not ready for you to fly. But she goes.

I leave without her. The windows down. The sun is rising. It is starting to sprinkle. I look around the car and realize that she's left something behind.



Her childhood.

Summerary

Air conditioner in van is dead. Hand out the window, rolling with the wind. Hot. Humid. Muggy. I feel it in my hair. Big storms comin' through. Dog in distress. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. Heavy. They are here. She is there. We were here:


I'm making a movie about it. I bet you can't wait.



They ate a lot of these.


We drank a lot of these (and ate a lot of those).




We dug a lot of these.




And rode a lot of these (we is a relative term here).




We've been doing some of this.




And lots of this.



And we've even gone so far as to claim one of these.



Seriously.



We've eaten a ton of these.


And now we're packin' for this (we is a relative term here).

How is that for generalizations. Generalizations haven't ever been so much fun.