Thirty Seven

I love the house I live in. I love the family that lives in it with me. Down to the fish named Sammy who lives in the bathroom. The back patio is inviting and the little lawn of green grass is maintained by someone else. The other fish- Puff the Dragon, Peachy Cleany Meany, Scaredy Catty, Charlie & Lola live in the heart of the home, looking out on this outdoor living area complete with comfy patio furniture.

Green onions, parsley, and two types of tomatoes in 4 inch pots stand at attention ready to join the other horticulture in the happy scene.

A birdhouse sits keeping time in a plum tree that went from twigs while we looked to white blossoms  during the move and is now full of lucious leaves in glorious green. Twinkle lights now adorn the covering, and a shiny grill sits ready to make mouthwatering the marinated meats of the man. 

A subtle whistle sounds as the train rumbles through town just to the west of us. At just the right moment of the day you hear the mission bells ring just prior...

A large bluebird visits daily. He is curious about us and keeps his distance, but is boldly building a nest from twigs plucked out of the gated garden guarding the front door. Filled with purple daisies, magenta blossomed topiaries and mini allium- can't wait to see what color!

Children fill the neighborhood with shreiks and screams as they ride the thrill of "the hill" on their scooters and attempt to sell their spoils (rocks, bark, flowers & sticks) to the parents who frequently peek out their screened entrances. 

The towering trees to the east tell of the time that people have inhabited this historic area, the bells ring from a tower built in 1776, the year of our country's independence.

This is where I begin my 37th year. Happy Saturday.

"The World would come to a halt..."

she states bodly, "... if women weren't multi-taskers", she types, as she feeds the baby, the cat, drinks her coffee, gathers her notes for the article she is writing on slowing down and simplifying, makes up a quick "menu" on a paper plate so her homeschooled daughter can practice reading before breakfast, tweets good morning, plays pat-a-cake with the baby, puts a flower in her hair for fun, and writes her blog.

The world wide web spins out the stories of such super-moms. Creating streams of consciousness and e-commerce {insert a cheer for the 1st grader sounding out "scrambled"} consortiums through their connections online and in communities. {logs into Facebook, baby squeals, feeds her another bite}.

The spirit of entrepreuseship is alive and well in the soc-net circles that sprout up around every interest, hobby or belief system. {she makes cornbread mush with berries and milk for the long haired one, shovels a few bites of the same concoction with bananas into her own mouth, gulps more coffee, picks up the toast the baby has launched from her podium whilst chirping out a high pitched series of squeals- delight or disdain? Still wearing her robe at 10:24 the multitasker starts a grocery list and retrieves banana from her monitor, noting to self that baby doesn't like banana these days...}

Take the newest trend, microblogging-, sites such as Twitter are experiencing growth as more and more people discover the entertainment value of "what [others are] doing right now?" {a whiny plea to "stay home all day 'cause its rainy, and cold" is silenced with a glance and quickly replaced with a well supported opening argument-basically stating that for the best of baby and optimal fun we should consider not going anywhere. The almost 7 year old learns fast.}

{Breakfast is finished, dishes await- and the would be writer thinks she should add hyperlinks, find supporting statistics, interview a few experts, fill in some personal anecdotes and publish an article on this fascinating topic, as the still 6 year old screeches about how crazy her mothers is to eat bananas on cornbread and dances around the table chanting ba-na-na-n-a-na-n-aa-a... She thinks how much she'd like to search for an ergo carrier on The Baby Wearer, and the almost 1 year old claps in glee. The woman takes her last sip of coffee, whilst the last few keys click out these words}.