a doogie howser kind of post

Recently, my son turned 12. I've told you before about that day 12 years ago. The day that changed my life, only for the better. How interesting life has become. While looking back, and still yet pondering what is to come, I always think of Bjork's lyrics:

I can decide
What I give
But it's not up to me
What I get given
Unthinkable surprises
About to happen
But what they are
It's not up to you

(Look at this pre-teen. Seriously!!)
Parenting is perplexing. When my son was younger, I couldn't wait for him to get older. So I'd see who he'd become. Now, I want it all to slow down so I can enjoy who he is BECOMING. I live for him. I live for my daughter, too, but he was the first pushing force in my life that kept me going, going, going. Never stopping to feel sorry for myself, always wanting to be good to him. That only made me so much the better by the time my daughter came around. Now, I KNOW to stop and enjoy the moments. Now I know a bit about parenting. How you have to be protective, but not stifling. Encouraging, but not fake. Careful, but brave. Fun, but not reckless. Firm, but not abusive. How each thing you say and do affects their future; how it affects your future relationship. He might grow up saying things like, "why did you have to be so strict about my grades?" Or he might say, "thanks for being so strict about my grades." I don't know, it's not up to me, it never really was.

If you ever get close to a human, be ready to get confused

Anyway, Gilda DOES knit, I swear. I dropped my pop blanket. My blocks are all done, but I hate the weaving in the ends and sewing together. I'll come back to it. I've become such a finicky knitter. Everything has to be perfect. Like, for example, this other blanket I started knitting. It was off by a couple of stitches. So, I had to frog the whole thing and figure out where in the pattern did those stitches come from. I found the place and now I have it on the sticks again. But here's what it looked like before I unraveled it all: (it's going to be very pretty)

The pleasure is all mine to finally let go and evenly be flown

As you can see, I'm a little obsessed with Bjork. Recently, I got back from Chicago where I saw her play at the Pitchfork festival. It was an amazing, romantic weekend with my husband. We got in on Friday, the day of her show. It was a beautiful, scorching day. We started walking the distance to the festival, but caught a cab for the last 3 blocks, because it was torturous in the heat. (we also didn't know it was only 3 blocks to go - ha!) When I go to Bjork shows, I feel amongst my peeps. A little quirky, a lot cool. But they can also be a bit shy. Finally - FINALLY - it was toward the end of the show...it was past dusk....it had been lightening....and my fellow show-goers started to get the groove. When all of a sudden, Bjork, in her Icelandic accent says she has to get off stage, because there is a storm coming. The people flooded into the streets toward inner city Chicago. The wind started to pick up. The lightening was fierce. And then the rain - POURED!!! It was quite the storm and I had a case of the giggles. Because I was just so dang happy that I got to see Bjork live. And running in the rain is exciting.


The next day, we took in a few touristy sights.

Then, we saw Phish. Phish is my husband's favorite band. The vibe was cool and calm. Definitely not as stylish, but made up for it with the aura of peacefulness. Once it started to get past dusk, it started to rain again. It was light, dance-in-me kind of rain. Phish played 3 sets and for four hours! It was a really great time. We walked miles back to our hotel. Peed like a bum in Milennium park. Watched a girl get reprimanded by one of the lions outside of the Art Institute of Chicago (mind you, it's about midnight). And even stopped to dance with some random people on the street singing to car blaring Talking Heads.

Dudes, it was a fabulous weekend. The kind that keeps you smiling for weeks.

Now, it's back to the daily grind and I am cool with it, because my life aint too shabby. I've got two radical kids that keep me on my toes, a kick ass husband who will go see Bjork (I mean, really. The guy's favorite band is Phish and yet he went to Bjork with me. swoon.), a pretty great job, and school coming up in a month. I am so thankful for what I have, because I know it could be taken away any time. I do realize that. That's why I try to pack in as much as I can. There is so much to see and learn and do and I'll never, ever be able to do it all.