Wordjanitor Strikes Again

Ah, New Year's Eve. A night fit for profound thought. Or not... @ and I were talking about cookies. He decided I should make dog cookies for blue doggie (his constant snooze companion). Me: Do I make them out of real dogs? @: Dog cookies aren't made from dogs, they're made from things dogs like. Me: But apple pies are made from apples, not things apples like.   @: Just make them out of cat poo. Dogs like cat poo, especially Butchie. Me: Eeeeew, that sounds pretty gross.   @: But it's funny too, right? Me: Yep, it's gross and funny. @: Oh, and it has to be really fresh so the dogs are attracted by the smell.  It's official. I've been verbally one-upped by a six-year-old.

I asked for one thing out loud this holiday season. And I got it. In fact, @ tested it out and it blew away my expectations. OK, not exactly. It blew away the leaves in my front yard. Yes, I am now the proud owner of a leaf blower. Maybe it's the editor thing, but I make a clear distinction between the terms need and want. And that's a good thing to teach @ when he proclaims a deep abiding neeeeeeeeeeed for 17 different things in 34 minutes at Target. Truth be told, I don't need a leaf blower. And I'd never buy it for myself. But I wanted one. I have a lot of rocks in the landscaping of my yard. It makes things easier. And while the novelty of it lasts, I have a very small, but determined gardener to "help."

Things are well-fastened at my house. An elaborate system of bungee cords connects doors to one another so that "you need to know the unlocking secret" to enter a room. Fear of being tangled like a helpless fly prompted me to remove the ones strung between doors in the hallway. Forgetting the web in the middle of the night could leave me as bait for the dreaded bungee spider. Various arrangements of electrical- and duct-tape striping code the orange cones I once used to coach soccer practices. The coding has something to do with guiding guests through the house vs. women in cleats around a soccer field. I've received the explanation a few times. Next time I should probably take notes. And we just had a long series of one-page bedtime stories from The Jumbo Duct Tape Book , immediately preceded by a conversation along the lines of "No, we don't really duct tape dogs and horses." (A conversation to which Luke paid rapt attention in the hopes that the m...

smell of woodsmoke and wet leaves, feel of brisk air and misty rain, dark of evening masking suburbia as i walk on the evening of solstice There are plenty of holidays to keep everyone amused this time of year. But for me, winter solstice has the most meaning. This is the longest night. Tomorrow the nights will get shorter, the days will stretch longer bit-by-bit. It marks a turning point that doesn't have retail mania and free shipping. The leaves have fallen, the nights are darker, and so many things are seemingly in stasis waiting for their next act. And that next act is rebirth, growth, reaching for the sun. It may look like everything is dead, brown, wilted, but there is plenty happening in preparation for the coming of spring. The rain is cleansing, removing the dust, restoring the damp to the ground. I am not very different. This year has brought me many things. The arrival of fall marked many of them. As the leaves fell from the trees, I was uncovering aspects of m...