Summertime is

-Shaved ice
-Steamy pavement during a rain
-Ultimate Frisbee at dusk with a light-up disk
-Strawberries and whipped cream
-Catching fireflies on the golf course
-Dancing under the lightning-streaked sky during a thunderstorm
-Car washes
-Church softball games
-Broadway musicals
-An endless supply of homegrown tomatoes
-Napping in a cool, dark closet
-Long afternoons at the pool with little brothers
-Porch-swing conversations with childhood friends
-Scalded feet

Growing up with sisters II

My youngest sister got an American Girl doll yesterday. The event was made much of in the family, as our childhood was filled with dolls and this would be the final new one to enter the family.

The discarded catalogue lay on the coffee table, and Nathan picked it up. "I want one too," he said. He began flipping through the catalogue, commenting as he went: "I like this one." "Aww, this one is so cute." "That's my favorite."

Let all worriers be informed that he and his brother pass most of their hours pretending to be karate champions or playing Star Wars. I like to call it well balanced.

Growing up with sisters

"Courtney, how do boys get skinny?" my five-year-old brother asked me. "Do they exercise a lot?"

"Well, yes. But why do you want to know?" He looked down and was silent.

I guessed: "Do you want to be skinny?"

Very ashamed, he replied, "Yes. I want my tummy to be so flat it looks like it was smooshed."

Oh dear.

Four teenagers

When we were little, the summers were vast expanses of emptiness. The glittering void stretched farther than our childhood eyes could see.

Then we grew, and each summer adopted its own distinction. Two years ago we passed through The Summer of the Cows, in which the neighborhood families journeyed to islands all over the world, leaving the neighborhood empty for a time. This summer is The Summer of the Teenage Sisterhood.

Yes, my friends, this summer holds the remarkable distinction of being the only summer in all of history when all four of the "C" girls will be teenagers (13, 15, 17, and 19, respectively).

In the week since I've been back from college, we’ve been playing music and swimming and driving around town with the windows rolled down and the music turned up. We’ve gone to the theaters and to a water park. We’ve helped a sister graduate and watched her last high-school play. We’ve played sports and had a tea meeting with the neighborhood girls. We’ve welcomed friends returning from college and watched other friends graduate. We’ve played with little brothers and visited with grandparents. We’ve fought, and we’ve laughed. In short, we’ve done an awful lot of living in a week.

Upcoming, we have a trip to Europe, violin camps, children's camps, Broadway at Dallas Summer Musicals, a possible visit to WA to see our grandparents, and, sandwiched in between all that, plenty of crazy teenage moments.

Let the summer begin!

Don't forget to say "please"

I’m back at school for another two weeks, and, while I’m tempted just to rest and try to hide from the phantoms lurking all over this empty campus, I would hate for these weeks in my life to be wasted.

So today, I learned to drive a stick shift. Spork was a patient teacher, but I figured the trick out all on my own: the car needs words of encouragement. When it sounds like it’s going to jerk, just start talking to it. That works every time.

What should I learn tomorrow?

Filling the gap

I can't stand having a gap in my "archives" listing. So this post will fill the April gap.

In April, I was finishing up projects and preparing for Hummel's test. I was longing to go home and rather tired of school. And that's about it.

There. Gap filled

The rains came down, and the floods came up

The rains began on Saturday. During the church potluck, the hammering on the metal roof, the frequent discoveries of new leaks, and the water splashing onto the tables added to the normal potluck craziness.

By afternoon, the green belt behind our house had flooded and the water was rising. We crowded to the windows to watch balls, trash, toys, and sticks rush past. An armadillo waddled around on our back porch, and three ducks swam through the trees.



When the trampoline floated off, Nathan ran crying into his bedroom and slammed the door.

The water continued rising till it nearly reached our fence. Then, after dropping eight inches on Dallas, the rain stopped.