it's a different generation

This morning, Eleanor asked if she could Skype Kamma.

OK, she's barely two. And she knows the term "skype"?

I can already feel myself slipping behind the technology curve. Actually, I started slipping a long time ago. I don't tweet, I hardly blog, and my Facebook logins are semiannual events. I don't even like text messaging (probably because I have to pay something like twenty cents for each text message I receive...so texters, if you're reading this, let your thumbs take a rest and actually CALL me instead, OK? I'll like you better.)

an urban adventure

This past Saturday, we were driving home from the Breakthrough men's shelter where we cook breakfast once a month. And it's not in the best part of town, anyone would admit.

Driving north on Homan avenue, we heard a spatter of LOUD gunshots, obviously less than a block away.

Then an SUV who had just turned off Homan into a side street comes squealing out in reverse, looking panicked.

Then a youngish guy comes racing out of there on foot at top speed, also looking panicked.

I have no idea whether the SUV or the young guy were involved in this shooting; I am guessing they, like us, were just passers-by in the wrong place and in a hurry to get back out. But it was my first time actually being an almost-witness to a shooting. A little adrenaline rush. In case you're curious, we decided not to stop and check things out. Maybe not very good-Samaritan-like, but we had the kids in the back seat, after all.

Backyard camping!

With an unforeseen night off from rehearsal for me and glorious weather, we decided to have our first family backyard camping trip of the summer. What spontaneity! Scott and Miles have done it the last two summers, but this will be Eleanor's first time joining in. (Side note: Mommy helps with dinner and campfire activities, but opts to sleep in her own bed; that part is strictly Daddy territory.)

Miles and Eleanor helped Daddy set up our small dome tent. Then Eleanor explored the camping crate, discovering her new favorite cup:

while Miles helped Daddy clean out the firepit, dusty from a year's storage in the basement.

Daddy built a fine fire:


We roasted some bratwurst and lounged around on the grass while we ate. Well, Scott and I lounged; Miles bounced and Eleanor ran around with her grubby sausage in her hand.

Then, of course, it was time for s'mores. This year Miles and Eleanor both enjoyed the gooey toasted marshmallows, though Eleanor wouldn't eat her s'more (the rest of us helped her out).

Miles is currently woefully afraid of flies (ask me about the meltdown this afternoon when he couldn't go potty because there was a FLY on the floor, which turned out to be a clump of Eleanor's hair) and Eleanor passionately hates being dirty or sticky (marshmallows were sort of a disaster there), so real life camping may not be in the cards for us yet. But luckily, a bathroom and clean PJs were only ten yards away. We got the kids geared up for bed, and now they're snuggled up outside with Daddy, reading some stories.


I am virtually certain I will sleep soundly tonight. I can't answer for the rest of the family...