Hee hee, I just realized that the only way I can access my blog is through the bookmark I made of my sister's blog. I am obviously a dedicated blogger.Summer is glorious, and I have been traveling and reading to my heart's content. On the plane to visit Cholie in D.C. I finished Hal Borland's When the Legends Die, which is a heart-breaking and beautiful novel about a Ute Indian boy who is forced into an assimilation school which he eventually escapes to become a bronc rider in the rodeo. It's a text used by my colleague as a summer read for "honors" 10th grade, but I had never heard of it before. I was reading Vine Deloria and he recommended it as one of three books that "give a good idea of the intangible sense of reality that pervades the Indian people." That commendation pushed the book to the top of my eternal "list" and I'm excited to add it to my 10th grade curriculum next year, supplemented with Sherman Alexie pieces and historical context.
Washington was fabulous, not least because I finally got to meet Nichole's adorable kitty Scout, pictured here nestled beneath the cilantro on the porch. The very best part of the trip was getting to see family--so many darling nieces and nep
hews. Cady is such a gorgeous, sweet and helpful eight-year-old. As we trudged up and down the mall (the American History museum, Air and Space, the castle) she was so courteous and opened doors for strangers who were obviously impressed with her manners and over-all adorableness. And Gavin is a sheer tornado force of fun and energy that only a boy his age can balance. His golden locks really are enough to make me cry, even when he yanked on my arm in an attempt to play solo 1-2-3 jump. Audrey
is a total hoot; she looks so tiny but seems fearless, rushing into the fray of whatever her older siblings are doing without a care. Like her big brother and sister she's a solid muscle baby, and a super charmer (she had Peter-in-palm, day one). Sarah is still a delightful little screamer, and I can't believe how big Nellie is! Timothy took us up to the National Cathedral and I had fun sprinting after Nellie and trying to teach Sarah how to smell roses. The "bishop's garden" had a beautiful variety of blooms. Only some had scent but those that did were delicious and surprisingly distinct from one another. It was pretty hilarious to watch Sarah put her face right next to the bloom and breathe out, or in with her mouth. Funny, the little things.The site-seeing highlight of DC was DEFINITELY the dome tour. My sissy rocks for many, many reasons, one of which is that she got Peter and I on a dome tour of the Capital building. I'm not scared of h
eights, but looking straight down from inside the dome right beneath the kinda creepy but still gorgeous Apotheosis of Washington fresco made my stomach turn a
bit. It made me feel bad for teasing Peter about his mild acrophobia. It was great fun trudging up stairs amid all the scaffolding and the outside view was not scary at all (what with the big white slide just beneath us), just gorgeous on a day with 10 miles of visibility.New York was also fabulous. I spent way too much money in two days (how? how?! where did it go?) and my sunglasses inexplicably turned up "missing" at the Met. Romeo and Juliet was gorgeous and I, unlike my blushing sister, loved the pants. But somewhere between the first intermission and the final curtain someone swiped the sunglasses that I put under my seat. Crazy! At the freakin' orchestra pit of the Met! Anyone who knows my horrible track record at keeping sunglasses can appreciate my grief, especially since I quite liked the enormous, second-hand, "Juicy Couture" with a giant, gaudy label on one arm. Weep. Hmmm, reality check, I guess I shouldn't complain. After all, my fabulous partner's work does score complimentary tickets to the Met. The universe is not such a cruel place after all. I got to see two shows (God of Carnage was also very fun...my first Broadway play experience) and go to restaurants recommended by the fabulous Irene, who's blogging skills cast a sickly palor over my own feeble once-every-two-month and picture-heavy posts. She can be viewed below doing baby squats. Thanks to her, I ate edamame ravioli that is bringing another tear to my eye just thinking about it. And crazy fate! As Peter and I boarded our plane home, who should I see in the coveted first aisle behind first class row of seats but the fabulous Irene, falling asleep reading over a copy of her exams. I tapped on her the shoulder and she said, "Oh, hi," and then "Hi!" as the context sunk in. We knew we were getting back in town around the same time, just didn't realize how same. Then I read The Great Gatsby on the ride home. What a wretched book. Impressively structured. Tragic. Horrifying. Utterly American. *sigh*
