hot dogs

I had a minor accident. I have decided it was the Cuban hot dog vendor's fault. Dumping a load of my daughter's debris at the local St. Vinny's, I was all set to turn into the busy "WIlly St." mess. A large utility truck for the City of Madison pulled up alongside the street as I was turning. The drivers were after the dogs. I didn't see the dropped metal grate on the back of their truck, but my van met it in most dramatic fashion. With my girls screaming "Mom, you're going to hit it," I was worried about the oncoming traffic, not how tight the turn was. Lovely dent don't you think? Waiting for the cop, we were entertained by the buff, 52 yr. old Russian, Spanish, English, French speaking Cuban selling hot dogs and "brauts". His trailor travels easily and he's currently enjoying Madison life - much better than California. We discussed Castro. While I was stupid enough to hit the truck, the truck guys were stupid enough to park too close to the driveway. As the cop was explaining why she wasn't issuing me a ticket or the truck guys one either, another van scraped past the truck. Proof on my part. Throwing up her hands the cop shoved a paper at me as she roared back to her car to tend to the "armed bank robbery now in progress." It was clearly the Cuban hot dog vendor's fault.

nesting

July flew by. Life has swelled over this summer. I've not knit a stitch, instead, I've made some progress on my summer goal to read the stack of books next to my bed. My pattern since childhood is to read myself to sleep. With a quick shower and wet hair moving via window fans, I read through the heatwave. Now that the heat has broken I can shoo my family back to proper beds and not random floor nests and too short love seats.

My writing is a bit stalled. The Iowa writer's workshop I had so looked forward to was a bit of a disappointment. I'm thinking my hopes were too high. I met a few lovely people and will enjoy the connection to other fledgling writers. I'm finding my reading is changed. I read with a new appraisal of style and structure. I'm currently reading the collected stories of "Grace Paley" as well as two other memoirs. I've developed a strange habit of reading 2 or 3 books at a time. I have to smother the inner creep who shows up daily to question my writing intentions or abilities. It is a craft worthy of pursuit. I have no problem justifying my knitting time with the silly question of validity. I recognize the art of knitting is a skill and craft that grows with patience and attendance. This is the "talk" I give to myself whenever I doubt my desire to explore writing. It is hard to push away the "measure" or "success" value. In knitting, I enjoy the process as well as the final product. I'm hoping to extend that sense to writing as well.

I love summer. Plain and simple, the reality of an extended winter here in Wisconsin should guarantee all residents the gift of the summer off. It is dancing off the calendar quickly. Lauren leaves for Spain in all too short a time, the 29th of August. I love this picture of my four girls - not the best of each, but it is so hard to catch them in the same place and time now...
Elise has a new friend from Sweden she met at camp. She wants to bring her here for a bit before returning to Macalester for school in September. I'll just have to build another nest on the floor.