keep the old

One of the harder parts of our peripatetic lifestyle is the making and losing of many friends.

During the first year we lived in Latvia we had a nice group of good friends our age. None of us had kids and thus I have fond memories of long afternoons spent in the Irish pub in Riga. It was one of the few places in the city where you could get onion rings, and, oddly enough, they made great chimichangas. We would eat and drink and laugh and do all the things that young, childless people do.

After a year, these friends went on to other postings and we lost touch. I'm terrible at keeping in touch, even with my family. I don't write many letters or emails. I don't send cards for birthdays. I probably should, but between my two little darlings, working full time, and keeping the house reasonably decent I have to let a lot of things slip.

However, due to a series of fortunate events, we were able to have a mini Riga reunion this morning. One friend, who lives in Serbia, is spending the week in the U.S. for training. The other friend drove up from Norfolk. It has been four years since I have seen them. Four years, people, since we lived in Latvia. Four years since I have seen these friends of mine. It feels like four minutes ago.

We feasted on egg and pepper strata, banana muffins, and cantaloupe. Instead of watching cricket on the tvs at the pub, we watched Miss Cheeks and Miss Bee play wildly. (Oh do they love to show off for guests.) And then we talked about our home renovation projects. We parted with no false promises of renewed friendship. But I do sincerely hope that it will be less than four years before I see these wonderful ladies again.

Frosty

Oh my goodness. This week has been hot, even by Washington, D.C. in the summer standards.
Poor Frosty would last about five minutes before he turned into a puddle.

Why I love summer

Pizza topped with garden-basil.
Tomatoes ripening on the vine.
Watching Cheeks ride her trike.
Buying fresh corn for supper.
Pretty flowers in hanging baskets.
Miss Bee longing for the pool.

Still here--

Just taking a moment to peek at my very neglected blog. I have no particularly good excuse or explanation for vanishing, I'm-a just a-very tired these days.

There are months when I think I have it all together, and family, work, and life seem to harmonize pretty well.

And then there are months where I feel like I am banging all the piano keys at once. Life in discord. An exquisite cacophony.

I read status updates enviously as my friends go off on vacation, or revel in that sweet space between job assignments. In the morning, I stare, sad-eyed at the carefree tourists navigating downtown D.C.--toting water bottles and metro maps.

However, the ballerinas are the worst of all. Every morning on my way to the office I pass a group of 10-15 teenage ballerinas, clustered at a bus stop, heading off to rehearsals. They wear sweaters over their leotards (in this Washington D.C. humidity)! They are languid; I am rushing. I try to walk gracefully past, swishing by in my wool suit. Answering emails all day doesn't really compare to Giselle and pas de deux though.

There are a few quiet corners in my crazy life-- though, like this past Saturday morning when both girls inexplicably slept past 7 am and I reveled in a few extra hours of sleep--and when I took fat Max running and he actually made it all the way home with me (never mind that part when he lay down in the grass and refused to get up for a good ten minutes)--and when the kiddies were giggling and being cute at the grocery store and then there was NO LINE at checkout. There's good stuff in there, too. I just gotta hold on tight to those little things for a while.