27: To pick a topic...

I sit in the same place I always do

to write tonight

the five-arm chandelier lights the way

as I scroll through my writer's notebook idea page

my phone's photo album

to pick a topic I can knead and share

There is the picture of a notebook

with the elder little's name on the back

yesterday the smaller little picked it up

flipped it over and handed it back to him

"Reid!  Here is your notebook!"

I marveled...

When did he learn to read?

There is the picture of a diminutive blue Jeep

with the smaller little in the driver's seat

my husband bent over to rescue the triangle

stuck beneath the front all-terrain wheels

I guessed...

That's not what the company meant by all-terrain.  Not tricycles.  

He'll learn to drive safely; first time out season.

Or maybe...

There is the picture of two little guys

roaming around the south side of the house

the elder coached the smaller little 

at his self-sponsored Easter egg hunt

"You're getting clooooooose.  Just look up."

I beamed...

They're getting it.  They are.

Someday they will be friends.

I sit in the same place I always do

to write tonight

the five-arm chandelier lights the way

as I scroll through my writer's notebook idea page -- 

my photo album -- 

to pick a topic I can knead and share

"I write to hold what I find in my life in my hands and declare it a treasure..."

Lucy Calkins

Write on,

b

20: The egg and the hair dryer...

The egg-decorating project reached a standstill late yesterday afternoon.

Little Emmie clarified, "The plastic doesn't fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit, Aunt Brenna."

Her mommy added, "Well, when I was little we always used to put the eggs in really hot water 

to shrink the too-big plastic bands, but that may take away the eggs' coloring."

I extended, "When I used to work part-time at Pottery Barn, 

during Christmas we'd always use cellophane bags.  

They came in one size -- big and square -- and then we would add 

whatever gift the store wanted to feature.  

You know what the trick is for shrinking a cellophane bag?"

"Sure!" everyone replied without pause.

"A hair dryer!" I whispered.

So the eggs skittered around on the plastic blue plate all the way down the L-shaped hallway 

and then rested on the bathroom countertop while I plugged in the hair dryer.

I wondered, "Could I just do them all at once?" 

So, I tried.

To save you the suspense, it didn't work.  Not even a little bit. 

The eggs would need to be done one-by-one.

So I held each one between my thumb and first finger,

rotating it every time the heat became too much.

1.

2.

3.

4.

and

5.

"Emmie!!!!  Look!  The hair dryer worked!"  I called.

And two little sets of little girl hands filled the blue plate 

to merge egg displays into one...

...in the center of the kitchen island.

"Can we eat them know?" a little voice chirped.

Write on,

b