Random Acts of Espionage? — Here in the Bonny Glen

October 22, 2008 @ 10:57 am | Filed under: Family,These People Crack Me Up

I’m pulling out of the Trader Joe’s parking lot when Rose asks what happened to our shopping cart. “I didn’t see you put it away,” she says.

“I didn’t have to! A nice man was heading into the store, and he took it for me. Wasn’t that kind of him?”

Rose ponders a moment. “Maaaybe,” she says skeptically. “Or maybe he just wanted a way to get your fingerprints.”

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Christine M says:

Is this the same girl who has the urge to punch someone in the nose? What’s she been reading lately?
Posted on October 22nd, 2008 at 12:21 pm
Jennifer says:

I was going to post Christine’s comment almost verbatim! Ha,ha!
Posted on October 22nd, 2008 at 12:39 pm
Allison says:

Ha! Ha!
Posted on October 22nd, 2008 at 12:51 pm
Jacqueline says:

It seems like she has been on a role with the funny remarks!
Posted on October 22nd, 2008 at 1:58 pm
Melissa Wiley says:

Yes, she’s feeling feisty these days, isn’t she! LOL.
Posted on October 22nd, 2008 at 2:10 pm
Elizabeth says:

Too funny!
Posted on November 5th, 2008 at 2:59 pm

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“Exploration,” says John Stilgoe, author of Outside Lies Magic, “is a liberal art, because it is an art that liberates, that frees, that opens away from narrowness. And it is fun.”

Yes: it is so, so much fun, and that is why I write these posts all chattery with excitement over this or that connection the kids made today. (Or that I made myself!) I know I get carried away, but that’s the point, isn’t it, that way leading on to way has carried me away?

And yet—and yet—I think we are at once ‘carried away’ and made more fully present in the now, more rooted, by these relationships between ideas about things past and future. The joy of connection makes me want to celebrate this moment, this brief encounter with wild-haired child and broad-trunked tree, bus going by, sign on church wall, Scottish warlord creeping over the tower wall and startling the English soldier’s wife who has just put her babe in arms to sleep by crooning that the Black Douglas won’t get him. Child, laughing, shouting “Dinna ye be sae sure aboot that!” across the courtyard outside the library. How can I not celebrate this freedom?

(from a post called Way Leads on to Way)

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Every day is complicated, messy, and full of friction. And every day has glorious or cozy moments worth celebrating. I seldom bother to chronicle the friction and the mess because writing time is fleeting and precious—and childhood even more so. I’d rather capture the small joys that I might forget—or take for granted—if I don’t take time to set them down in words.

(Excerpt from this post about Real Life, quoted here because I don't want anyone to be under the impression that things are always perfect around here! Heaven knows we are anything but. Perfect, frictionless, orderly? Nope. Happy? Most of the time!)