Last night I was full of dreams about my grandparents' house in Maine again. Debbie, Ernie and I, the only three left from my immediate family, were lost and we walked and walked and walked for miles trying to find it. Ernie woke me up and I came downstairs to eat my breakfast with memories of that house hovering near the surface: the smell of the closets, the glass doorknobs, the scent of Ivory soap in the bathroom upstairs, the weight of wool blankets, and the kitchen with its pull out cutting board and the bin that my grandma kept potatoes in.... I'm guess I'm still searching for that combination of comfort and wonder. Now in my mind I am hearing Ernie do his standard impression of Tom Hanks as the hobo in The Polar Express, laughing and saying, "Well, aren't we all?"
The political landscape continues to both astound and scare me. As I struggle with my boys in their battles to both grow up and not grow up, I worry so about the world that awaits them.
So sometimes I try to block it all out and just take pictures.
Annie continues to stare at walls, and yes, that Bottle Rockets poster IS crooked.
For someone who is terrified of even harmless garter snakes, I sure do seem to like snake imagery. Huh.
We walked out of the Esquire last night, after a Valentine's drink, and the sky was amazing. This doesn't really capture it but I will post to give you an idea. When we walked around the corner it was darker in that direction and it looked like a Maxfield Parrish sky.