all the writing I can muster.

Sometimes I’ve got something to say.

And sometimes I am tired and ideas are slow and my typing is riddled with sloppy left pinkies and uncooperative right middle fingers.

And that’s when you get these posts that are part confessional and part ramble and part junior high dear diary and part Christmas newsletter and part nonsensical.

So here I am.

While I’m typing this I’m simultaneously texting my daughter and I am finding it both amusing and entertaining to have a daughter to crack jokes with while we are both up late tending to the needs of our homes – hers to a newborn baby and mine to tasks I couldn’t quite accomplish during daylight hours.

Swim lessons have had us hopping up early all week .

And our house has been hopping too – with far away friends stopping by for a night’s lodging a few times last week.  (In a home with a repaired AC, I should let you know.)

I’m working hard to not count down the days I have remaining with Hilary and Jo and I living in the same country.

I was able to introduce Emma to our favorite Tandem while she was in town for a day.

Tandem’s crepes are the best.  No, really.  But I also have a favorite family peach crepes recipe that I keep meaning to share with you guys.  Someone remind me to do that, alright?

The goats have been mysteriously and somewhat hilariously escaping from their enclosure.

At first it was downright adorable funny to see them welcomed into our kitchen by some curious children.

But after the goat poop hit the floor, the funny quickly became less so.

The first day of summer officially occurred this weekend.  But it’s been feeling like summer for more than a week so who really cares if it’s official now or not?

While swimming at a friend’s house this week, I experienced a legitimate epiphany.

Pool days are no longer The Worst.

In previous summers kind people would say, “Hey, come to the pool with me” and I’d say, “Oh.  We are busy.”  But what I really meant was, “Oh.  The pool is like a version of hell to me.  Sure, maybe a wetter version, but a version nonetheless.  It’s not fun.  It’s like watching for possible death at every second.  My children need help and an adult body near them at almost every second in the water.”

But last week I found myself in this shiny clean pool, lounging on some raft, talking calmly and sensibly to my friend while at the exact same time five of my children splashed and laughed and swam and enjoyed their break from the hot sunshine in the cool water.

And just like that, it dawned on me.

We can be pool people now.

I can say yes to pool invites.  (Maybe they’ll start pouring in now.)

I did this other crazy thing last week too.

You won’t believe it.

Well.  You might.  My oldest daughter didn’t.

I used a blow dryer.

And it made my hair all straight.  (That’s how those things work – right?)

And I look so different even to myself.

On the other hand, my six-year-old son looks more debonair every day.

He enters a room we are all sitting in and declares with authority, “I love everybody in this room.  But I don’t love strangers.”

The nights have been just too beautiful lately.  Who wants to come inside and go to bed when you’ve got all this glory in your own front yard?

I cannot seem to finish any book I begin.

Or watch any serious television show or movie.  Give me comedy – I’ve got all the seriousness I need.  (And give me good comedy, for goodness sake.  Does it exist any longer?)

The thing about posts like this is – they had no real beginning and they have no real ending.  They’re just words with some punctuation scattered throughout.

Oh – and we got to visit with my dad this week.  (And that’s always a good thing.)