Summerstock

wherein we take stock of the beginning of the summer. ..

our summer guests have arrived, for the unknown number of days and the unknown number of nights.  a sister-in-law and a neice/twin (miss f.) to my own very five year old boy. . . my seven flits and floats and gets more and more himself every day, but frequently feels the lack of singular playmate while his brother is off with miss f.   He recovers slowly from more vomit than a girl can shake a fist at...
and the baby rolls along, her own song getting stronger too. . .

today they go next door with my hubsJ to ransack the neighbors pool, if that is a proper use of ransack... i sat the hell down to write, because i find it very necessary right now to plan something each day that is mine, that can't be erased by an overly late dinner and drunken people. my sense of humor goes out the window when there is wine on the table and i am working on how to be more evenly calibrated but i feel desperately far from calibrated sometimes.  i have to counsel myself to breathe deeply and keep my mouth from opening. . .
nobody wants to hear what i have to say.
i don't want to hear what anyone has to say.

i spent an hour or two with my mother this afternoon, swinging on the hammock, eating watermelon,
delivering the soup -not to the hammock- and talking about what health could entail.  she goes along with a 'procedure' on tuesday to determine if the mystery of her belly can be solved. 

i have been spending a lot of time with mysteries lately, those things which, in truth, will not be solved. . . and how to make space for this gapping in the logic line. . . and the boys are fixated on what will be when they die. will they need brains? are their souls in the brains? makes sense, right?

so we twit from 'shut the mind' to 'heed the mind' and race ourselves sick.

we have two weeks left of school and a dazed approach to finishing them while the tides rise and fall.
ah. shoosh.