Tech-NO

I am an artist. ARTIST. I realize that computers are a very useful and even enjoyable thing to have around. I use them all the time. They are my friends. But today, I have had it. I designed a beautiful website this weekend -- really. You can see it at www.monamidesigns.com. And then, I couldn't get it to publish. So I spent about an hour at the Genius Bar yesterday in the Apple store, having them help me upload and learn to upload myself. Love them there.

So I get home and I have made my adjustments and lo and hold, the damn email program isn't working. Can I notify anyone of this fabulous accomplishment? No. So I try to solve this problem without asking for help and I inadvertently DELETE my entire address book. No, I didn't move it. No, it was not recoverable. Yes, I had to re-import the whole thing and then proceed to add the addresses I have collected this summer and reorgainze my mailing lists! Good Times! This is when a person is supposed to have a Tom Collins and stop worrying about it. Instead, I put everything in my address book and went to bed.

So when the damn email program didn't want to recognize me this morning, and the digital camera wouldn't allow me to put my files where I wanted them, I was ready to do some violence. My very wonderful and techno savvy husband came to my rescue this morning and I was able to complete the e-mail sending and photo editing. Where will the madness end?! So I am off to do some art -- with REAL tools, like paper and paint and scissors. That's right, I am an ARTIST.

Scenes from Claiborne

Hayes looks at some jellyfish with his CeCe, plays cards with GiGi and goes crabbing with Granddaddy! He even caught his first crab this trip. It sure was fun!

Compassion

How did I get to be so lucky? This child has reminded me twice in the last two days what a caring and giving person he is.

Yesterday we were out buying a gift for his friend's birthday party. Naturally we were pressed for time -- we were shopping an hour before the party! I picked out the gift I had assumed Hayes wanted to give to Ben. I don't know if we had even discussed it. As we were headed for the checkout, he began to whine and cry. I thought it was because he wanted a toy. I told him this was not going to happen. He then informed me that he wanted to get something else for Ben. It took another 20 minutes of searching, but he found something I am sure Ben will like and was probably better than what I thought he wanted to give him. When we got to the party, I was sharing this with another mother and she reminded me that her daughter loved the game Hayes had picked out for her daughter's birthday. She commented that he was such a giving child. She is so right.

Today when we got home from the grocery, we saw a moving van in front of a house down the street. The same house where Hayes' neighborhood friends live -- or lived. He asked me what the truck was doing at the Parr's house. I explained that it was a moving truck and that the Parrs were moving to another neighborhood. He began to sob -- not just crying, but sobbing which lasted a good 20 minutes. He was so sad to see them go and so free with his emotions. It was all I could do not to cry with him. I have such a great kid.

It's Good To Be Home

We have been the traveling family this July. It always happens. I have shows and there's the 4th of July at the Lake and the pilgrimage to the Shore in Maryland. And as much as I truly enjoy seeing the family and being on the go, it is FABULOUS to be home. I slept in my own bed, played on the internet, Hayes watched his obstacle course show that has been DVR'd for him. The rash that Hayes developed while at the shore the last two days has completely cleared up. Things are going to be back to normal very soon -- just a few errands to run (like groceries and birthday gifts) and we will be back in the "at home" groove.

I only wish Richard was here too. We keep missing one another with all our travels: he's in Hawaii while I am at the lake, he's at home while I'm at the shore, I'm at home while he's in (is it really?) Dallas, he's at home while I'm in Cincinnati, I'm at home while he's in North Carolina. Soon this will have to stop because Hayes will start school and my show schedule will lessen. Ahh...those crazy days of summer!

Object of My Affection

So there we are, safely on the airplane, having only forgotten Hayes' toothbrush and toothpaste. These are the most fabulous things to forget, if one is to forget anything because they are absolutely replaceable and new ones make brushing that much more attractive. And then I discover it: we DO NOT have Water Squirter -- one of the three musts for getting to sleep. Hayes left his little stuffed elephant at the breakfast table and we are about to take off. This is bad news: B-A-D.

I called my dear friend Elaine just before the flight attendants ask us to turn off all cell phones and leave a desperate message. By the time we were on the ground in Baltimore Elaine has generously and fabulously caome to the rescue, agreeing to overnight Squirt to Claibourne so we could sleep soundly once again. We were able to make it through our first couple nights without Water Squirter, only because Hayes knew he was on the way. The night before the much-adored lovey arrived, Hayes asked me if Water Squirter was here yet. I promised him that it would arrive by the next evening. He looked me in the face and said, "It's just that without him, I feel like I have to cry." I tell you I wanted to cry too.

When he got back from crabbing with Granddaddy this afternoon, he saw Squirt waiting for him and immediately ran upstairs to the bed. He took a nap for the first time in months. I think he just had to have that time with Water Squirter. How did I get to be so lucky to have a kid so amazing and friends so incredible? It doesn't get much better than this.

P.S. There was much sleep last night and no little boy in my bed. I's the little things that make the difference.

Traditions Die Hard

This, my friends, is a window into my childhood; as only seemed right, we have resurrected this family heirloom in order to pass it on to our undeserving children.

This is an Indian Ceremony. Yes, that's right. We have indians that live around our lake (who look amazingly like distant and not so distant aunts, uncles and cousins). They only appear after much chanting at the water's edge (which also draws out many a curious boat - I can only imagine what the 3 that saw us this night must have been thinking). We "Hi-Ah-Nah-Nah!" our fool heads off and suddenly, from across the lake (actually, it might be nearer the neighbor's bay,) a flaming arrow is shot into the water and these indians come canoeing up to our campfire (which is completely unnecessary as it is still broad daylight at 8 pm) and teach us about the old ways and the ledgends of the area.

It is by far the most freightening experience (next to watching Chris behead a water snake with an oar) and awe-inspiring event I was ever a part of at the lake growing up. It was, as I see now, great fun for the adults. Thank the Good Chief of the Sky we didn't have to do any dancing this time to prove these indians were welcome. For better or worse, we grew up with the indians visiting our shore every so often. And now, just to make things fair, these great spirits have been resurrected in order to shower our own children with shock and awe. It worked, mostly. Eleanor still couldn't figure out why they would have to take our canoe when they could just make their own. Isn't childhood fun?

Sublime

There are things I look to do while I am at the lake, many of which happened this summer trip. The best thing, was my Thursday night experience. I was all alone, for all intents and purposes: mom and dad were visiting family, Hayes was deep in a sleep the kind you can only find at the lake with the windows open and a quilt over you.

There are many components that made the evening perfect: my jammies, my favorite ratty blanket, two glasses of Shiraz, a well-written novel, the ability to read on the deck overlooking the lake until almost 10 pm. But the thing that put me over the moon, was the loon that has taken up residence this summer on the government property next to ours. She sang such a beautiful song that I had to stop reading and just listen to her. I never did see her that night, but her presence there, in the still of the evening was almost more than I could bear.

I considered sleeping out there in that deck chair, and if it hadn't been for the gaggle of deer flies, I might have. Eventually I had to come in. The light of the moon was gorgeous, but not enough to read by. As long as I can have those moments, I will continue my pilgimages to the lake each summer. Those are the nights that make the 7.5 hours in the van all worthwhile.

The Value Of Sleep

One thing that happens at the lakehouse is that we have long days. This is generally a good and wonderful thing -- unless you are four and a half. Then, when the sun does not set until 9:40, and you get to stay up and watch the fireworks, you have a hard time making good decisions. Actually, you have difficulty making any decisions at all. And then the people with you have difficulty maintaining their sanity, which is fabulous, because their parenting skills are on display for all the family (and I do mean ALL the family) to see -- and evaluate -- and to discuss at length once you leave the area. It is also unfortunate that those same people have stayed up late playing games and laughing and leaving you completely out of things so that their fuses are shorter too. It makes for fabulous family time. Sleep is golden, this is the new rule at the lake. Let there be sleep.

Growth

I have outgrown one of my longtime shows. I've done this same show now for 3 years and just this year my product has become too high-end for the event. This is the classic good news/bad news scenario. I love working with the people here. I have some long-standing customers who I adore. But they were practically the only buyers. Not to mention how I HATE the black sand that gets all over my product and I hate missing time with my family -- the show is always the weekend closest to the fourth. So, so long to Manistee and the good people who run the show; and hello to new events and venues with an art-buying clientele. A bittersweet moment.