Koo Koo Ca-Choo (spellcheck just keeled over)

First, at home, I am a tortoise, you know, finish a sentence and find my earring (have given up on ever finding a pair), a mitten (yup), hat, brewing coffee, yelling at Daisy for tripping me a million times then feeling bad and kissing her so she does it again and again, finally I’m out the door without nearly enough time to get to the GO even on a nice sunny day but today there’s wind and ice patches, I am wearing the wrong boots – but I love them – so I Hare it all the way, running like something’s chasing me and now I am on the train and here comes the Walrus part because that’s me huffing and puffing and wet and shiny saying ca-choo all very charming bet they wish I was always working from home.

But that’s not what this blog is about thank goodness

It’s worse, lol

Just the best of the funny texts this week between me and my kids including the one I just sent to Anna who is downstairs under the weather both lit and fig.

Lynne and Anna both light-hearted and swinging slightly to the granola side of life went to a heavy metal concert on Saturday. Lynne was going to come for dinner. Here is her text:

And Anna’s:

Charlie is a musician in a band touring Europe. He sent a pic of him getting a tattoo:

and here’s a little story I wrote this morning if you want to read it, and if you don’t, here it isn’t:

THIS IS A LOVE STORY WHETHER YOU THINK SO OR NOT

Usually my people just sort of roll or seep or glide onto the page wait for me to notice them and I start typing like the wind’s picking up, you know? Some of them eek or squirm, and some do nothing but wait and it’s most often them, the quiet ones I choose because they are more likely to surprise.

Give me a gust, you know?

Today it’s Rory standing off to the side so still except his head’sangled like he’s listening so I go up to him and say what? but soon as I say it, I hear right at the edge of the page – I didn’t know the river rush came as far as the schoolyard – but I hear it same time he does.

I watch the smile go across his face and in a spitty whisper he says let’s go and there’s no quick decision-making, no nothing, he’s got me by the wrist and pulls me full-speed, my feet barely touch the ground – I’m laughing like a ride – and we hurl into the forest, through thin cedars to the dirt pathway and before I catch my breath we’re at the river.

I barely hear the bell you see it works both ways.

He’s the new kid moved into Miss Stapleton’s only yesterday. I watched through my curtains him get out of the taxi and just stand there same way he did on the page just now. Something about his face all boney and sharp looks like a fist, his eyes so blue like water, lips pleated as if to keep his teeth in, they’re the big permanent ones already, and when I see his body in and out of the water he’s like a miner, wizened and stained, scarred.

I don’t know how it happened but we didn’t get caught. Nobody missed us like he said they wouldn’t. We spent from recess to lunch in the forest like a dream, and again I don’t know how but we just sort of flew back wet hair through the forest just in time for the lunch bell, merged with everybody else, walked to our respective homes knocking shoulders.

We never did it again – he was two grades above me after all so our friendship was on hold until summer when it was just us again – but every once in a while Rory would sparkle his eyes at me across the hallway and I’d fill up with something, you know, the same sort of thing the quiet ones get when I choose them for the page.