Morning, Hope Valley, CA.

His first sentence, Hope Valley, CA.

Behold, above, my boy’s first sentence (beyond a great number of “I [heart symbol] U Baba” sentences, each of which I have kept on their various scraps of paper).  The scatological cant of this one, while a touch wince-inducing, cannot diminish my pride in his literary and comic prowess.

We are back now to civilization and our work in it, after a week in the state’s least populous county, up in the Sierra Nevada, utterly sans internet, cell phone reception, or even movies on a TV!  Folks, these places exist, and I highly recommend them for periodic purges of digital and media detritus. We were fortunate enough to be staying in a cabin its proprietors call Harmony House, situated at the eastern edge of  Hope Valley. A perfectly named spot from which to launch what we all hope will be a splendid new year.  My predictions, if it in any way resembles last year: full, busy, challenging. Also rewarding, fulfilling, and an honor to be around to be a part of.

Hope your last year ended splendidly, and that this one began full of promise.

Tetherball at big sister’s schoolyard, Berkeley, CA.

Next time around it smacked Baba in the kisser. That’ll learn me to pay attention.

To wit (re: paying attention): I’ll be untethered from ye olde internet next week. Digital Sabbatical time, thank you GwenBell et al.!  Clarity, monotasking parenthood, and board games all shimmer like palm trees at a distant oasis.  Between now and the oasis: a bit of extendo family revelry, cooking a feast for a dozen, and the kids’ favorite holiday.  I can think of a few ways I could be more fortunate (one, two, three, maybe four more loved ones alive now that should be; rifts bridged; wounds healed).  Other than that, my cup runneth over.

Ridin’ the range, okay, the family room, Berkeley, CA.

Hold up! Berkeley, CA.

Wordless Wednesday is better than No Post A’tall Wednesday, I always say. Or rather I’m trying to get back into the habit of saying.  

He is treating my gardening hat very nicely, but I do think we’ll have to get him his own cow poke outfit soon. The boy has a flair for the dress-up, no doubt about it.

A great many Wednesdays around here have gone by wordlessly of late, so the post title is a bit misleading. Slowly (slowly! I am a 21st c. resident, on a 20th c. timeclock!) I am finding my way back here. I feel a post comin’ on soon (ok, I see a chunk of time on a plane tomorrow, some of which time I may wrestle to polish off a long half-baked explanatory note). On the other side of this upcoming weekend is a wee clear patch in the ongoing (thrill a minute!) steeplechase that is my new job. I have pencilled in “catch breath.” Hope also to ink in “write more.”

Meanwhile, me boy.  Yes, that’s a haircut up under the cap there. He wanted it. Sigh. He can come back again to the Roger Daltry/ Robert Plant look again in his teens, I s’pose. Grandma’s looking adoringly on in the blurry left foreground. And me, behind the camera lens, catching another glimpse of him as a young man (as I try to catch my breath).