Wowza can Mr. Keene craft a hook.
I’ve been listening to Tommy Keene since the mid-80s and he keeps turning out great pop songs. The one time I ever saw him live (Washington DC, late 80s) was a fantastic and memorable night. And this Tommy Keene retrospective is a great way for old Keene fans like moi to enjoy a well-curated sampling of the full menu, as well as a good way for new listeners to discover TK.
Jon took it upon himself tonight to try to make the SOLID GOLD MINIVAN slightly less full of junk and mess. He never drives it (he loves his 7 year old Honda Civic) but he still can’t stand it when my vehicle reaches a certain tipping point of filth. At that point, he steps in. Without being the least bit judgy.
He’s good to me that way…
So tell me, what thankless task does your own significant other simply do for you, without being asked, and without sighing for dramatic effect, or rolling his/her eyes while doing it? Do tell…
In bed # 1, over to the left there, I’ve got a row of sugarbaby watermelon and a row of Amish muskmelon
To the right, in the bed with the tomato cages (which I found in our 102 year old basement of surprises), is one row of Old German tomatoes and one row of Cherokee purple tomatoes. These are apparently “heirloom” varieties, but I just bought the little plants because they looked neat and were on sale for $1.99 for four at the Ace Hardware in Bearden.
Now remember, I have no real idea what I am doing at this point in my nascent gardening hobby. For example, with the first raised bed, the one on the left, I didn’t know to lay down a layer of newspaper or cardboard on top of the grass in our yard, and then get it really wet before filling the raised bed with dirt. But with the second bed, to the right, I did know to do this, so it will be interesting to see how the weed situation develops in each bad.
Also, melons need a lot of space, so I will be attempting to turn a noun into a verb by “trellising” both types of melons.
Update on the 2012 Online Auction for Henry’s Fund: Hey everyone: our test-it-out beta launch over the past 48 hours with just a few “pre-preview” items available at our auction site let us know that we still have some tweaks and refinements to make with our Henry’s Fund auction site before our big opening night on Sunday. So we’re back under the hood now, tinkering with the auction site so that Sunday night’s full auction catalog launch is absolutely perfect for all of you to enjoy. Thanks to everyone who has offered feedback and input as we work, and WE CAN’T WAIT TIL SUNDAY NIGHT!!!!
In other news, I love getting to share that Henry’s Fund this week made another substantial grant to pay for inpatient drug addiction treatment for adolescents to Henry’s Fund partner program, The Florence Crittenton Agency, Inc.
Thank you so much for helping me in my mission to make sure that my son’s life, and his own brave struggle with the disease of drug addiction continue to help others, as Henry would want, and also to ensure that Henry’s own story continues to mean something far more expansive than the all-too-brief 18 years during which I was privileged to be his mama.
xo,
Katie
I don’t get a lot of time to be all by myself and grieve. But this spring, during this month marking the second anniversary of what I thought at the time was the most awful span of weeks life could possibly throw at me (I just didn’t know yet what June, July and August had in store), I’ve been spending late nights after the rest of the fam is in bed, sitting out on our porch, swinging on the porch swing, listening to music and thinking about my boy.
During May, I have found myself lighting all the lanterns and candles on our porch and hanging from our fig tree every night, sort of figuratively lighting our house for Henry to see, and know that I am there, sitting on the porch looking for him. I don’t mean this in a crazypants way; I don’t literally think he’s going to come strolling up the sidewalk and yell out to me that he’s home. But each night right now, I just want there to be some tangible, visible expression of my grief out under the springtime moon. I want the universe to know that I long for him, and I’m still his mother. That he’s not forgotten, and that I am marking this month – with each day that brings me closer to May 31 – in some explicit way. I want the house to look as warm and cozy and loving as he knew it, as a signal to…whomever that I am working hard to honor what I know Henry wanted, which was for me to continue to have lavender and flowers growing under the stars, and flickering paper lanterns and porch swings and music in my life until we are together again, and for me to make sure that his little brother and sisters have the healthy mama and happy home they deserve. He loved them so much.
I have no clue if any of that fmakes one lick of sense to anyone, or if I sound utterly nuts. But that’s just the best way I can figure out how to explain what I’m doing out there night after night.
Last night, just after midnight, everyone else in was indoors asleep and I was out on the porch with Leo (dog) abd Moses (cat), listening to Marshall Crenshaw’s first record and weeping, missing Henry so much. But in my sadness, I had this sudden thought that the house looked very sweet all lit up in the quiet night, so I went into the yard, turned around and took this photo.
In the 10k-plus photos I’ve taken in the 24 months since Henry died (and the few dozen anyone has taken of me during the same period), this is only the second one that’s ever turned out like this. And the photos I took immediately after don’t look like that at all.
Breakfast
true.
Cute!!
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