Our lives are comprised of what we do, what we don't do and what we will admit to doing (or not). This list is about the "or nots:"
Not all heroes wear capes. Some are too tired to put on their capes. Some may not remember where they put their capes. Some perhaps never even had a cape. Probably most never did, because not all heroes set out to be heroes. That hardly ever happens.
Each spring his buds reminded us of life anew. He'd sheltered us from the intense summer sun and gave a brilliant colorful display each autumn. He stood strong and steady during the frigid winter months.
We appreciate their efforts. But we also fully appreciate there will be disarray. And a surprise or three. Sometimes the surprises are even good ones. They did not disappoint. First, the disarray: Of the three bathrooms they had access to (this does not include the backyard), only one was left with shreds of toilet paper. In the other two, they'd been using facial tissues as a backup. <
You could hardly tell if they were alive, but I had faith in those little brown and green clumps. I plopped them in a bare spot in the garden and waited for my bounty. And waited. The first year generated no harvest. Zero. The plants were alive and growing. They just weren't producing. Yet.
Names are chosen carefully and with great attention to detail. What sort of mean nicknames could kids in the schoolyard find to taunt little Dicky with? Will a weird spelling haunt a kid for life? Does the name of choice rhyme with any swear words? Do initials spell out anything with negative connotations? Will the name make a smooth transition from childhood to adult life? So much to contemplate.
p> People wear them on the wrist like people used to wear watches, which they are, but that's just the tip of the flintstone, dear friend. They're known by a variety of names — activity trackers, fitness trackers, smartwatches — but they all do most of the same things. They keep track of, well, you.
We play a name-that-tune game in the car while listening to the radio.
You forget how tiny they are. And helpless. So utterly, completely helpless.
This year I stumbled upon a novel I thought would be of interest to my high school son (who also has a summer reading plan doled out by his school). Perfect! I ordered the book and thought we could both read it; sort of like having our own little book club. (I haven't told him about it yet. I'm sure he'll be thrilled.)