Lovelihood

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the graduating class of 2011. A preschool graduation is really nothing more than an excuse to watch your kids put on a semi-choreographed production of song and dance. The girls don their fanciest gowns and clompiest shoes. The boys wear pretty much the same thing they always do, sneakers and all. This morning, while assembling the day's clothes for The Boy, I srambled through the drawers for something that might be ceremony-appropriate, and the only thing I came up with was a tea-dyed shirt that made up his newsie Halloween costume three years back. That's as formal as our attire gets around here.

One of my most excited moments as the parent of an highly food allergic kid was the day I skimmed the ingredients of Pepperidge Farm's puff pastry sheets and found they are so chock-full of unnatural ingredients as to be completely dairy free. I'm all about making things from scratch around here, but it's nice to have something sitting in the freezer that I can just pull out and sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon for a mid-playdate snack. Raw, organic sugar, naturally.

The countdown to Kindergarten has begun. Among the mountain details to sort through is the matter of lunch. I don't remember anything from my own time spent in Kindergarten, save that one eye-rolling incident, but I have a vague recollection that they kind of just expected me to pull out my lunch and feed myself. I like the idea of sending the Boy to school with a bento box full of non-refrigeration/reheating-needing nourishment. Because, let's face it, I do love a good bento box, whether it compartmentalizes lunch or a secret stash of fat quarters and sewing miscellanea.

Not much to shoot when I finally got in tonight. So I went outside and caught some bokeh. No fancy shapes, here. Just some hazy dots from those solar powered lights strung up around the back deck.

The block that pretty much kicked my ass last night. Mercifully, the rest of the blocks are without the complexities of odd-cut sizes that require something better than my near-midnight brain to work through.

I'll be the first to admit that the gray and grayer color scheme we've instituted in the bedroom gives it, at times, a macabre gloom. The Boy, keeping in the constraints of our pallete, added his own, not-so-dour touch to our bedframe.

For a few days now, the rainy forecast has been left unfulfilled. Which means that today we were free to trek our out-of-town contingents around on foot. The Olympic Sculpture Park is a favorite clear-day destination, where, after the obligatory meandering through and on the sculptures, we're free to spend quality time on the adjacent shore, scrambling on rocks, prodding at upturned buglife and selecting out sticks to wield in impromptu battles with cousins.