Thursday, April 20, 2006
verbose little varmints, stupid stupid fighting parents, printing presses and woodstoves
gosh. when a wave comes to shore, sure enough your pretty sand castle gets washed straight away but all these little bits of new dreams rise to the surface to be molded into the next castle with your fresh hands.
both lyli and scarleht have been wandering around the house muttering "here ya go" while handing things to each other, me, stephanie, the cat, the wall, the oven, the woodstove,whatever. today Lyli said "there ya go", "left foot" and "i like pants" (although she did not enunciate very well). Scarleht said "no poop!", "hhh-ome", "Ka" (which means rock), "roh-ti papa" which translates roughly to "flower for papa" and the one that blew me away because I could almost hear each syllable when she said it: "When's mama comin' home?"
Add these to their already formidable arsenal of boogadies, moes (more), nos, uh-ohs, la-las...
shit, gotta add more wood to the fire, hold on
grammas, gran-papas, hah-los, hi-los, sooshta or shooshoo(not sure how to spell this one and the sound of it changes all the time anyway but it means sister or chicken)
i enjoy these times spent with lyli and scarleht, watching and listening to them formulate their worlds. even if i do waste too much of it on chores or books or a movie every now and then I try too to get as much play time in as well and spread it out over the whole day while they follow me around the house and yard and help with chores (read make small messes while i deal with big messes). Right now for instance they are each perched in their own papa-san chair, lyli's rolling around on the floor, scarleht's on its base. they are reading outloud to themselves and communicating telepathically with one another (I can tell by their little harmonized chirping).
Today I will eat some eggs before using the chainsaw for a half hour or so, then split some wood, go to the post office and hardware store, start digging a new spot for some veggies, clean out the room in the barn and begin setting up a small print shop, take out the garbage, clean the girl's room, put books online, care for my girls from 3 to 8 or so while Steph goes to work, maybe eat some lunch and take a quick nap in there considering I got up at 5 today and then hopefully relax with a beer and finish reading What We Talk About When We Talk About Love by Raymond Carver, one of the greatest short story writers to ever live and one of my persoanl heroes (although in my current emotional state I'm not sure if that's necessarily a good thing, sorry Ray).
Steph and my's turmoil continues, again boiling over. our tempers flare and mix and neither one of us likes the results. first we decide to have separate rooms, then that we will look at houses in olympia, then that maybe we shouldn't live together after all... then we say some really good things and I don't know what of it all to believe. I don't want to leave this place but my love does.
How does one ask love to stay? Or does one love love enough to wish her wings to fly away?
just got three more old printing presses yesterday, little ones. maybe the words i find inside will be able to console my lonely heart whilst we figure out what to do about any old thing at all.