Slick 'er down

Today was picture day at school. Theo's hair is tough to mess up. He has this thick wavy hair that stays close to his skull no matter what it has been through. Not the case with Eli. His is always winging this way or that. This morning Theo's hair was showing a bit more spunk than usual. I called him into the bathroom and offered up an array of hair product. He chose to use Jon's and asked if I could stick the front part up a bit. I could and I did. He checked out the results, was generally pleased- flexed his lips in the old Billy Idol sneer for a while, and then spotted a tuft of hair on the side doing its own thing. His comment: Mom? What's going on there?? He made a face at himself then said, "Slick 'er down woman!"

Crackin' me up

I just went on my first run since back in August. I've been nursing a knee/hip injury of some sort and have taken to biking everywhere instead of trying to run. It's been fun. I would like to state for the record that I biked to work for the entire month of September. Didn't drive once. Granted, it was the driest, warmest September in ages and my work is only 3 miles away AND I only work 3 days a week, but bike I did. I've been biking to the grocery store, my class over by the dome, target, my parents' house (and they live in a different STATE!). If I keep going at this rate I just might go rig up the 30 year old burley as a grocery/errand cart, string it up with some christmas lights, add a rearview mirror or two to my helmet and get really serious about bike commuting. We shall see.
But today it is in the high 40's and misting which is my absolute favorite running weather, so I cracked out the new running shoes and headed out. It was lovely. I tried to ignore the irritating strain in my knee, but in terms of lungs and heart, apparently my biking has been doing me fine. So I end with this short little burst up the hill on Niles to Brimhall and I'm feeling really good, like I am almost thinking that runners are on to something. I slow it down to a walk (which, really, isn't slowing it down much) and I'm passing by a neighbor's house where much construction is going on. My eye follows the trenched out sidewalk up to the door and what do I see? A huge rear end smashed up against the glass as someone is bent over apparently working on the floor inside. Much more flesh than pant. Framed just perfectly. I am still chuckling.

Eli's rolodex

This past Tuesday we gathered up a crew of friends and relatives and caravanned back down to the Pizza Farm to celebrate Jon's 40th. It was a cool, mostly cloudy, evening, but we were bundled appropriately. Darkness descended much earlier in late September than back in August when we had first made this journey. The farmers have strung some christmas lights up around the ordering/stone fire area, but the rest of the farm is free of artificial light. MaryBeth and Tim tried to keep the cold and dark at bay by firing up a fancy candlabra, but it only lit the immediate surroundings. Beyond that circle lay the night, and our boys delighted in it. The crew of kids started out with a rather civilized game of sharks and minnows, but before the first minnow was caught it had devolved into a melee of crazed happy running and tackling and glee. This continued on unabated while the adults continued to eat and chat and relax in the lovely country evening, removed from our phones and our computers and our lives. Too soon we had to pack everyone up and return to the cities.

Once I had the kids snuggled down under their warm comforters I asked, "Did you guys have fun? I have such great memories of running around in the dark as a kid and you guys don't get a chance to do that as much."
They both murmured their assent, and then Eli added as an afterthought, "I felt kind of like a feral brawler."
"A what??"
"I don't know, a feral brawler, those words just seem to fit how I was feeling."
I chuckled, thinking that feral conjures up images of barn cats and my boys certainly had been tussling around like a pair of wild kittens. Then the next day I did a quick search of the word 'feral' just to see if I had the right word in mind. Here's the wikipedia definition: a feral organism is one that has escaped from domestication and has return, partly or wholly, to a wild state. The introduction of feral animals or plants to their non-native regions can disrupt ecosystems....However, returning lost species to their environment can also have the opposite effect, bringing damaged ecosystems back into balance.

I read that definition and then marveled at my son's ability to name something. His brain is like a giant rolodex of words and when he needs one he gives it a spin and then plops his finger in and pulls out a word that fits the need to a T. The whole time we had been at the farm I was thinking about how busy we had been lately and that how it would be so much easier to just skip going and continue on with the hectic pace of our lives, but once we were there it felt so great to step out of the race and sit back in the dark and enjoy the moment of quiet (if you could ignore the screams of glee/fright from the kids) and be with friends. I felt like we had escaped momentarily from 'domestication' and had been returned to a more natural state, and I felt a little closer to balanced. The kids were not relaxing or reflecting, certainly, but they were loosed of their rules, their homework, their routines, and set free into the night, and were happier for it. So here's to more frequent evenings full of friends, fun, and feral brawling.

First light

This morning, just as the first light of dawn was creeping into my room, Theo stumbled in as well. He was still so sleepy his eyes were barely open and he quickly burrowed into the covers next to me. After a nice warm snuggle he rearranged himself and flung an arm over my neck. I lay still for a moment and then whispered gently into his ear, "Um, Theo, you're choking me." He turned his head slightly, slit open his eyes and said, "That was my intent."

Fencing?

For a while now the boys have been under the impression that they want to become fencers. Not as in shady characters who sell your stolen goods for you (a profession Theo shows great apitude for) but as in athletes who wield pointy weapons and heed french commands. Now, Jon grew up a runner and I was all about team sports, so we are feeling a bit out of our league here. And I admit, I have this little nagging thought at the back of my mind....but aren't fencers kind of....kind of....nerdy?

Eli dabbled in this sport last spring by taking an after school introduction to fencing class at my school, Avalon. This did not lend us any insight into the nerdy question- Avalon students are in a category all their own and if you want to apply the label NERD to them, be warned that it will not stick to these slippery, unigue, cagey souls. Yesterday, as I was giving a tour to a prospective family, we walked past a girl wearing a construction helmet, a pair of metallic silver leggings, and some bright red go-go boots. She looked up from her task to give us a perky little salute and a wink. Odd, for sure, but nerdy? I fear they have found the secret of how to elevate themselves above this petty little label. They live their nerdiness large, and in doing so they break right through that barrier and emerge into a whole new, lovely, realm. So as Eli suited up in the basement of Avalon and faced off his with Avalon partner, a lad named Blue- so called not for the unremarkable color of his eyes, but for the hue he applies to his nails, his lips, his hair- how was I to judge this sport? One thing I did note is that the instructors, a brother/sister combo, were fabulous- confident, disciplined, big hearted, and worthy of much adoration from their clients- many of whom were just 1-2 years younger than these classy coaches.

This fall we decided to look into getting the boys signed up for lessons and settled on the Twin Cities Fencing club. We went as a family to watch a lesson from the sidelines, and what I saw was very heartening. There were a handful of younger kids, all of who seemed like healthy, sweet kids. Then there was this trio of twelve year old boys. There was something about them. A twelve year old boy can be a very awkward thing, but these three, they stood tall, they looked each other in the eyes, and they played fair. On the spot, watching these three take turns dueling each other, I decided that there might be a whole lot to like about this odd sport my boys have taken a fancy to.

Lessons were to start the next Wednesday and the day started early, with old anticipatory Theo up at the crack of dawn wishing the day away so that he could get his hands on a weapon. Jon marched them off that evening and they came back glowing, Theo proclaiming that Wednesday was his new favorite day, even better than his precious weekends! So we're in. Who knows how long it will last, but for now we're committed to spending Wednesday evenings in a secret little stinky two story basement of an apartment building up on Holly Avenue. We'll see where this takes us.

On a side note, my brother Dave will undoubtedly be relieved to find out that this fencing club provides all of the equipment for the little fencers. Old Dave is sure he had his career as a Pro Football place kicker cut short when he couldn't deal with the shame of having to wear homemade football pants back in the sixth grade. I have had some little laughs picturing my boys wearing fencing helmets hastily fashioned out of chicken wire and duct tape.

Convenient

Now that school is back in session, Jon and I are trying to make sure we get the boys back into the habit of helping out around this house. This usually takes the form of drying the dishes after dinner. The other night it was Theo's turn, and as Jon washed, listening to Theo gab away, he wasn't paying too much attention to what Theo was doing with the dried dishes. But then Theo placed one final dish and called out, "Dad! Aren't I being convenient?!?" Jon turned to find quite a sculpture park of Theo's dried dishes. He had carefully balanced them on top of each other in little configurations so that they all fit on the counter closest to him. Now, my definition of convenient is when the boy with the dish towel gets the dried dishes into the correct cupboards and drawers, but upon eyeing up Theo's creation, I had to admit that he sure was....something.

One last jump into summer

Our friend Deb had been telling us about her family's cabin up on Lake Namakan for a few years. It sounded idyllic- a little island that was all theirs, out in the middle of the lake that acts as a border between Minnesota and Canada. She had invited us up for one last summer hurrah- to spend Labor Day weekend at the lake. It sounded great and we wanted to go, but I had been in the throes of getting school up and running for a new year, the boys were edging into their pre-school anxiety that hits each fall, and in the past week Jon, Theo, and I had all been taken down by 'flu-like symptoms'. And it was a 6 hour drive plus 1 hour boat to even get to this place. It sure seemed easier to spend the last weekend of summer at home recuperating and gearing up for another year. But then we checked the forecast, 70's and sunny, and we decided to go ahead and jump right into one last summer adventure. Thank goodness we did- this place turned out to be just what we all needed, a comfortable adventure in a foriegn land (It was across the border line in Canada and we needed to show our passports at a little outpost that is reached only by boat or floatplane) to round out a great summer.

This 1.5 acre wilderness is a boy wonderland, covered in white pines, mossy outcroppings, colorful toadstools, and plenty of rocks for clamboring. The little cabin is completely comfortable, but with no electricty or water is an outpost enough to make you feel like you're on an adventure. As it is on an island, the boys could head off into the woods with parents having no worries about them getting lost. They spent their time turning sticks into ancient weapons, conquering mythic beasts in fabulous battles, throwing themselves off the rocks into the warm waters, creating rock dams, reinforcing castle walls and running free. They coaxed the parents onto the unihabited nearby island for a parents v. children game of capture the flag that had us all hooting and hollering and sacrificing much skin in our quest through the brambles for the dishtowel that served as the sacred flag.

Saturday evening we were treated to a lovely sunset on the west side of the island and then as we walked east, back to the cabin, drank in the glorious full moon as it rose above still waters.

After a lovely weekend we packed up the boats and headed back to the mainland, refreshed and ready to tackle the new year.