Caretaker

I didn't have any pets growing up. Although we went through occasional bouts of begging, my parents never seriously considered getting us even a fish. (No use even thinking about a dog.) We were taught to appreciate wildlife from a distance--specifically from behind the fence at the zoo. 

Not Brad.

So when my parents accidentally acquired an albino lizard, Brad was designated its temporary caretaker. (I don't know how you accidentally acquire an exotic reptile. Leave it to my parents.) 

At the time, it lived in this.

This was apparently unsuitable.

So Brad produced a temporary terrarium from a giant Rubbermaid bin, tile, rocks, bricks, and a pseudo-heat lamp.

He bought--and caught--live grasshoppers for the lizard's eating pleasure.

He even took it on walks. 

(Okay. They weren't strictly walks. Brad just set the lizard out in the grass and let him run around. But the mental image of Brad walking a leashed lizard is so much more amusing.)

I am thinking about this now because Brad is gone, taking care of our house. 

And I am feeling like a sunshine-less, grasshopper-less lizard. I am missing him taking care of me.

False Advertising.

Do these look the same to you?

To the person who stole my phone...

I'll give you 200 bucks if you'll give it back. (Which is more than it'll go for on ebay, by the way.)

Stunned Still

Few things shock me into wondering silence like lightening.

One of those few things is fireworks.

And last Saturday it just so happened that God and man collaborated to brighten the sky.

Most of the guests at the Volpato's 4th of July party ran for cover.

I couldn't follow them inside. Although the earth rumbled, I was stuck. Glued to the ground. Looking up.

Claire rested on my hip.

We watched until we were drenched.

Stochasticity

Does anybody listen to RadioLab? Well, you should. It's the best. Last week's segment discussed randomness.

Which is pretty random.

Because last weekend Brad and I went to a movie theater we'd never been to before to see Transformers in a nearly sold-out room, and almost had to sit apart until a nice group of "kids" scooted over for us. ["Kids" is in quotes because I think they were probably no younger than me. But they looked young. And they seemed careless and free. Which means that can't possibly be adults.]

And they started chatting with us. Which doesn't happen to me very often.

And. They were from Carlsbad, NM. My favorite town. Population: 30,000. Distance from movie theater in question: over 500 miles.

We caught up on the local gossip as if we were old friends.

Random, no?

Things I Learned Today at the Movie Theater

1. Up is not a children's movie. When the kids are not bored, they are terrified.
2. I am an emotional wreck, apparently. In the first five minutes of the movie I was already dripping tears. I couldn't even control the weeping when I tried to explain the ending to Brad on the way home. 
   
3. My children are incapable [still] of behaving in public. Grace does not comprehend the concept of whispering. She is obscenely loud. And Claire thinks the bald man in front of us needs his head patted. And both of them think it's a lot more fun to run circles around the theater than to watch the screen. [Which is how they ended up in time-out at the mall.]
   
4. My children are easily lost. Grace's favorite activity is to wriggle her hand free from Daddy's grip and to sprint in the opposite direction.
   
5. Claire needs a lot of sleep. And when she doesn't get it, she should not be allowed out of the house. In the unfortunate event that she engages in sleep-deprived-out-of-house-ness, she does unthinkably naughty things. Like ripping mommy's blouse open while mommy is carrying her out of the mall.
   

An educational day, I think.

The Artist

It's Grace. I'm not sure how it happened. It must be a Neville thing, because I am not in the least bit artistic.

The other day I came home from work to find a big smiley face posted the door to welcome me back. How thoughtful.

And then I found this on the counter:

I'm not an artist, but I've had to interpret several pieces. And I would say that Grace loves her home. 

Wouldn't you?

*She would like me to add that the pen scribbles are Claire's contribution.