New Jeweled Shoes

Every girl should own a pair of jeweled shoes. And she should have an Aunt Cole to mail her a new pair when her old ones wear out. As a complete surprise too.

Today when Vivian wore the shoes, she did the happy dance for so long that I thought she was going to get stuck like that. And that's after she has been getting used to them for the last four days.

Cientifico

Ever since Uncle Alu told him he was a scientist, Evan has given up plans to be a "cooker". So when they made paper bibs at school and his friends picked astronaut and fireman and teacher, he stayed with cientifico. And proudly showed us the zipper and the test tube ad flask in the pockets. 

Since Evan figured out, more or less by himself, that different things all fall at the same minus the effects of air resistance, he thinks of himself as some sort of a scientific pioneer. So, often he asks a question like "Daddy - I wonder what the inside of trees look like?" and then follows it up with "Am I the first one to ask that question?"

Evan is inevitably rushing towards grow-up-ness. As the last bits of his funny talk start to vanish, I feel there is a pressing need to re-document it. Three years and a couple of continents away he left several people speaking Evan. They would only say "Foo" if they were hungry. Or "Dow" if they say a dog. Cow was given the prestige of extra syllables "cow-uu". If you more really hungry, you might say "Mo foo". Then came the first multi-syllabic words - "aw-sage" for sausage and "chokit". The only ones deemed important enough for the effort.

Later, he would add an extra "M' " in front of arbitrarily selected words, or replace the first sound with an "M" as if he were west african. The only remaining one still in frequent use is memember. As in "Do you memember that time when I got a snow cone for my birthday?" And he still calls one of his less favorite veggies saparagus. And his favorite gelato place in town is P' Teo's.

Jeweled Shoes

Vivian hates to throw anything away. Least of all her favorite pair of jeweled shoes. But they had gotten too small and were too grungy to give to anyone. So last week one evening after she took them off at the front door, Jo gently but firmly said "Honey, put those in the trash". With a couple of tears in her eye and a trembling hand, my brave girl squared her shoulders, picked up her jeweled shoes, and deposited them in the trash.

And didn't look back.

Decade

Because of that party for my 50th and then travel during the kids' fall break - all in the past three weeks, Jo and I had decided that we wouldn't leave town or throw a party for our 10th anniversary. I scrambled and got us a reservation at LaV for dinner for Thursday. Not bad.

At 4pm on Thursday, instead of Jo's car, Carol's truck pulled up into the driveway. Two kids, three dogs, Carol and Jo tumbled out. "Get dressed" Jo said and I saw her zip up an overnight bag. We drove downtown and I found that Jo had booked us into the W for a day. Twenty four hours of doing nothing. Champagne and strawberries on the balcony with the setting sun (and soaring cranes). A nap after breakfast next morning. A stroll along the new boardwalks at Town Lake.

So, dear Jo, a decade is a long time. For anything. Especially for putting up with me. And my "let's take the handles off the fridge" moments. When we met, the city used to disconnect the electricity at home because I hadn't paid my bills. Now we have children who can spell home in two languages. Not much has changed and so has everything. And you have been the constancy and the change. Thanks for everything, big and small. I love you.

And it's a lot better than sitting in a dark house alone....
Here's to the next 10.