A Blur

On Wednesday I wrote about kicking the day off with a poke in the eye. Claire's eye. 


After that, it's a blur. 


On Thursday I met a first grader with a long braid down her back, wearing a Little House On The Prairie dress.


"What's your name, sweetie?"
"Mabel," she said.


On Friday I met a second grader with a mop of curly hair.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Lazarus," he said.
He showed me his home-made book about sharks and told me that he doesn't care for the playground because it's dirty.
"It has dirt on it," he said. "I don't like dirt."


Oh.


So, for two days, I fell off the This Being Alive map. 
I tried to write something last night but by nine o'clock I gave up. I had nothing to offer.


Thanks to the generousity of our friend, Dan, Claire and I are taking a road trip to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra at the Wells Fargo Arena in Philadelphia. I know very little about this except it's a big complex with music, lights and snow ? and way too many people for me. I'm more of a fifty-seater black box theater kind of girl but I'm thinking, adventure. After, we'll toddle on to Pearly's house, dear friend, for a girl's get-away. 


I still can't locate my cell phone after two weeks now? I'd borrowed Claire's, then misplaced it, now found, so I'm praying I don't end up in Maryland, rather than Philly. The good news is, I have a penchant for maps, no gps in my car, so we'll be just fine. 


Claire said, "I like doing things the old-fashioned way, Mom. We have an atlas, right?"


Atta girl.


Go gently into your weekend, dear reader.
I'll report back after the weekend...
xo b