you could call it roadblog. or idrive.

Man, am I ever glad I did not do this. Because I would be failing. Badly. And I hate to fail.

I really did think about it (which, by the way, you’ll hear me say often if you stick around. I like to think about doing things much more than I actually like doing them) but put off signing up until the very last minute (also a recurring theme in the life of me) and then realized on Oct. 31 that I was going camping the next day.

fleeting

Bittersweet thoughts under these blue October skies:

Last week brought new braces for my sweet baby girl, who’s 10 and now looks 13. She will still play with her brothers, but I wonder each time – like these achingly gorgeous fall days that get shorter and shorter all the time – how much longer will it last?

Each new thing she learns is a birth, a coming to life in a new way. I love watching her grow to understand and care for the world around her in new ways. I love the way she gets things sometimes and glances at me across the room to say did you see that? That was funny. I love her soul, her wit, her kindness. The way she keeps part of herself all to herself.

But for every bit of spring I see there, I fear walking through the fall, seeing the dead-leaf castoffs of her childhood. A bit of innocence lost for each understanding gained, goofy games with her brothers left behind for time spent with friends, all the ways she can take care of herself saying that there’s one less way she needs me anymore…

I know, this time of year brings out the melancholy in me – but it’s hard not to hear the clock ticking right now. Maybe it’s the milestone of 10 this year, the feeling of the inevitable years right around the corner. Something inside me wants to yell stop!

But life doesn’t stop, and neither do fall days nor beautiful brown eyed girls. So I will bask in the sunshine, and look out into the endless blue, and hold onto her as tightly as I can.

it has many uses

A typical school morning at the Jones’ house: the kids are eating breakfast, I’m fixing lunches, Bryan notices Will’s wild hair and begins spraying it. We keep a bottle filled with water for just that purpose.

Elizabeth says: “Dad, why are you spraying Will’s hair with Windex?”

Good question.

Like I said – typical. Except for a little extra shine on top…