Summer Sleep-in
nine in the morning
a houseful of sleeping boys
school's out for summer
On the Cusp
One son is done with finals,
the other just a day away.
The sky is cloudy
half the day,
then hesitantly sunny for the rest.
The calendar says that summer's here
but I haven't seen her yet.
Vasco's Homecoming
Vasco Fitzmaurice
Mark David Possley: welcome
home, this time for keeps!
Finals Week
One boy
is having trouble
putting away the novel
he's been reading
and then wonders aloud,
should he buy a Dutch phrase book
so he can meet girls
while we're in the Netherlands
this summer?
Meanwhile,
the other boy
has a textbook open on his desk
but is also wearing headphones
and dancing in his chair
and messing with the speakers.
Don't you people have finals
tomorrow? I say.
Exams, heard of them?
Hello?
Father's Day
I feel bad that David has to spend today flying to Tokyo. The boys and I would much rather have him here with us. But Japan needs XS and I appreciate that he's willing to bring it to them! So: go, Dad, go! Our father's day festivities were short but sweet--we shoved some coffee and cards and a present at him and then he headed to the airport.
Here are your hugs, cards and gift.
Now don't miss your plane.
Grand Theft
An almost perfect
Saturday: Family. Beach.
Glassy little waves
under an almost summer
sun. But in my rush
to enjoy all those good things
I left the garage
door open, and the skateboards
got stolen. Paradise lost.
Learner's Permit
With all due respect to Schuyler--a smart, wonderful kid who will be an excellent driver one day soon--it's absolutely terrifying the first few times your kid gets behind the wheel and you're in the front passenger seat.
a sweaty-palmed test of faith
my son is driving
Game 7
I got way too into the NBA finals this year. I dove headfirst into the long-standing rivalry between Boston and LA, and frankly all that trash-talking has been exhausting! Next year I've got to take a more zen-like approach to the whole thing. I know it's just basketball, but I couldn't help but frame the series in my mind as a war of cultures. Here's the thing: I love the quirky, personable southern California beach town where I live, but--as you may have surmised by now--I'm just not a fan of LA, that big sprawling metropolis 50 miles or so up the highway. It's the name-droppers. The self-important entertainment industry people. The limousine liberals. That insufferable Jack Nicholson! I realize there are many good things and good people in LA too. But somehow I took my favorite team's loss tonight in game 7 kind of personally; it felt to me like the world of tabloids and celebrities and movie special effects had won the day. Until next year...
the Celtics
versus
the Lakers
Sam Adams and Paul Revere
versus
traffic and the Kardashian sisters
the Harvard Law Review
versus
Us Weekly magazine
Us Weekly
unfortunately
has prevailed
(but just for now)
Countdown
down: just nine more days of school.
I'm counting too, and
can't wait until my last day
as the homework cop.