Toe Up From The Flo’ Up… or in this case, The Trace.
It was Internet Cotillion. All that was missing were the white gloves and an awkward waltz partner.
Rambler: resists the listening with all her might & mouth. What happens when a loud mouth is forced to listen?
My last post was about breaking routines, deviating from the regular route, living wild and free (so long as you have a superbly generous babysitter). These time-as-open-as-a-field days were beautifully lazy. They mostly consisted of not doing the things I was supposed to. I enjoyed them so much I took another and another and then 30.… Continue reading Giddy up… or just anywhere, really.
I tap the fridge door closed with my right foot while completing a 92-degree turn to pour and place apple juice into a sippy cup and onto a table. My husband swivels precisely to my left, avoiding a collision, plate of mac’n’cheese balanced atop bowl of grapes. Three steps back he takes. Two-and-a-half forward for me.… Continue reading It’s ALIVE!