ernie is out buying the crab rangoon, The General all sticky in his foil box. my head full of allergies and i can’t bring myself to cook. the kids want to eat snacks, as usual, and i am torn between making them eat normal meals and letting them eat when they want to eat. we live a pretty mellow life here, no strident schedules to follow for anyone, easy routines for all. i don’t know if i could live a clockless life but i did daydream about taking a nap after reading about living one.

i’m typing in a sea of clutter, silver thread, a new apron pattern (yay!), a plastic killer whale. mess runs a river through the house because we did little but play today. animal yatzi (anyone else have a hard time figuring this out? maybe i’ve lost more brain cells than i thought. of course, i’ve never played ordinary yatzi, so . . .) and several other games with small pieces and mess-up-the-board-with-wild-three-year-old-hands appeal. i cleaned out the wading pool which had been left for the fall, the winter, to swim and drown in the leaves of the pecan trees. sticks, bricks, a long metal stick, a truck, and leaves that were a gory black, all inside the pool while the boys stood by, hose in hands, bathing suits and bare feet. yuck!

annie came by with a wonderful dress she stitched late into the night. i am glad that i have a girl to dress in clothes made from sheets and velveteen ribbon. and i’m glad for annie: thanks!

also new, design by humans t-shirts. i’ve been especially enthusiastic about this one since chris‘ awesome zine hit the scene. it could only be better if i had gotten a new bicycle with a bell for ringing and a basket for filling and emptying.

a double drip, in pink, of course, as seen at goodwill, the one with the extreme prices on records . . .

ernie brought home the prize for all of that game refereeing playing and pool scrubbing: a stainless steel french press! goodbye with a meaningless kiss blown to you, countertop drip machine! my last press died with a long crack in the glass that made the coffee seep slowly all over the place. no more cracks or accidental chips and smashes. tonight the first pot steams and stays warm on the counter while the boys (”i’m exhausted,” henry yawned as he burrowed down in my bed . . . nice trick.) sleep in dreams that splash in glittering drops that mirror bulbous and carry them into the impossible and back again.

it’s fun to have so many new things in one day. i hardly know what to do with myself.

boys and birthdays, what about this do i not love?

wishes and possibilities follow:

henry (may 29)

bike & gear

walkie talkies

puzzles, 60 to 100 pieces

tetherball (wanna play me?)

face paint

new costumes (robin hood greens, crouching tiger tunic, star wars cloak . . . can i sew these in time? aaaah!)

kite

books from this list

greatest robin hood movie ever

jude (june 6)

bike & gear

skittles game

etch a sketch

monster truck wii game (!)

books from this list

apron with pockets for kitchen work

body crayons

croquet

dinosaur or monster costume of some kind (overwhelmed screaming yet again)

sunday, lazy and slow, the trip to church successful in every sense of the word, everyone learning and worshipping as they should, no altercations, weeping, gnashing of toothless gums. we ate scallops today, little scallops that the kids didn’t want to eat. it was sad when i dropped the last one on the crumbly floor.

we’ve a new table for the dining room which means the old one will move into the sunporch for all of my royal mess making and stitchery. hooray! i will be sharing the table with henry’s legos, which will be good since lola is wanting to crawl (though she is still quite stationary) and there are lots of things like marbles and soldiers and pirate treasure that are just waiting to be eaten by a little pink mouth that is covered in nerves that zap and tingle curiously.

this week we’ve been enjoying whipping cream whipped silly in the mixer and as many strawberries as we can eat before sick.

we’re in a breakfast rut, cheerios crunched on the floor every morning, the idea of toast wearisome. ideas?

shadows and gray light in the house, the sky falling back into night, the air already sticky, the smell of grass and honeysuckle suspended, swimming. we turned on the air this week, filling the house with cold, the powder of pollen stopping on the storm windows as i look out at it without puffy eyes, an itch on the chin, the nose. the boys, the girl who loves to sit in my lap and swing into the sky, these sleep in the gray twilight that comes in blocks and beams through the curtains. jude has sand in his bed because he took his park worn shoes off while sitting on it. summer and sandy places in the house have come to us again. soon, they will take baths every night, their feet red with carolina leaving prints on the floor of the tub.

we’re having a spring give-away on royal buffet! tell us why girls love spring and see what happens . . .

“wow, look at her lips! shiny . . .”

“i like these yellow suits tonight. last time they wore blue.”

“why do you think his hair is alive, mom?”

“check out that saxophone.”

“mom, you need a dress like that!”

“look at that sword!” “it’s not a sword, it’s that thing for conducting.”

“i’m uncle ben on guitar, and henry is miss carol on piano.” “i am NOT miss carol.”

“i like his suit. is that a vest?”

“ugh, i really don’t like her.”

“look at that! she must be the queen of the white suits.”

“i really want you to watch me do a wild dance.”

“hang on, i need a costume like that.”

i made a terrible dinner tonight but ernie and i were both in good spirits and it didn’t bother us at all that the kids looked at the dish in the middle of the table that was almost entirely made of brown rice and lentils and were sorely disappointed and even insulted that this is what i was feeding them for dinner. honey sandwiches followed, although i liked the lentil mush, no, really, i did. i don’t know where my intelligent mind wanders when i start making meals that are almost entirely made of brown rice and lentils. “shred some cheese and mix it in!” i think. i’m sorry, boys, ernie, that i do these things to you. at least it was not an oatmeal walnut burger.

the trees are nearly green through the windows, over the shed the sky is gone, all green with summer on its mind. there’s also a lot of pink on our street, everyone dressed for some gatsby party, pink, white, fluttery.

here to announce, though somewhat belatedly, the illustrious GREENE PHOTOGRAPHS.

i expect three cheers and much hip, hip hooraying for my talented ernie and his newest adventure! sometime this week he will say goodbye to his day job and start out on his own. i’m very proud of him, of his hard work, and of his keen eye, proud to call him my own jolly good fellow. your turn!

the man at the park held the string to the kite, the one that bobbed in loops and dives, another behind him in the grass, stretching skyward, its tail flicking defiantly, red and yellow rebellion close at hand. the girls at the park swing their dolls in the infant swings, dolls not heavy enough to swing smoothly, jerking them back and up and back again.

it’s spring, the air green and pollinated, those of us who sneeze too much thinking twice before the opening of windows, the sleep in the grass. the dogwood in the back, the one that twists around another tree and fights for for the top most spread for branches, this dogwood begins its bloom, later than others, it seems. the rain comes for days and nights and days again, the front yard needs mowing, i think of planting things and hoping for growing and blooming and picking.

nine bean rows will i have there, a hive for the honeybee. . .