Caught the man studiously boinging one when nobody was looking, and he smacked in the head with it for commenting with my eyebrows. He's getting so hostile in his old age. Went to the beach, had friends over for beer-brewing and bbq and music and trashy pink wine. I put all the kids to work in an assembly line to roll balls of cookie dough in powdered sugar for crackle-tops, which were wolfed down amid a light-saber battle as if wild dogs had run through the house.
In the evening they wrapped themselves in blankets and sat on the porch playing cards and sipping water canteens.
Leif continues to try to potty-train himself, even though I dropped him into the toilet when he came out of the bath.
Still keeping my hands busy.
Making a librarian skirt out of old too-big jeans.
Knitting a sweater for a baby who won't receive it. Because that's how I do things.
And here is a song.
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