A small boy excitedly strolled through the door after soccer practice.  Dirt and grass clinging to his wet cleats started dropping off on the hard wood floor as he wove his way through the house to find his mother. "Can we go now?" he eagerly demanded.  The mother smiled down at the boy hopping from foot to foot in anticipation.  Then she announced that not only were they going to be getting things to prepare the cage for the cavie but they would get the cavie.  He immediately striped off his shin guards and socks, put on his school shoes, grabbed his money and was out the door and in the car before the mother could grab her purse and keys. The whole way to the pet store, he spouted fact after fact about cavies.  He told his mother his hopes and dreams about "Taz" the cavie.  What kind of personality he wanted and how he was going to acclimate "Taz" and become his favorite person.  A boy cavie for sure.  He didn't want a girl.  They found the street downtown and wove through traffic looking for a parking spot.  Across the street from the quaint farm and pet store was the perfect spot and he bound out the door.  Quickly placing the coin in the meter he dashed across the street to search for the perfect one.  They had rats, mice, ferrets, hamsters, and bunnies.  Where were the cavies?  In with the bunnies and they were tiny.  Three weeks old, two boys and two girls.  Their fur had whorls this way and that way.  The boy looked and looked.  Finally he decided he needed a hay trough and some toys for his cavie.  He came back and looked again at the boys and at the girls.  One little cavie stood out to the boy.  She had unusual coloring and scurried quickly to find her hiding place.  He fell in love with her.  The store employee asked all sorts of questions about what he knew about the little cavies.  What kinds of pets did he have and had taken care off?  He was satisfied that the boy was ready for this responsibility and could take care of a new friend. He boxed her up and handed her to the boy.  The boy paid for the stuff and gentle held the box. "Mom, will you drive slowly and take it easy around corners and stopping and starting?" He wanted her ride to her new home to be as trauma free as possible.  Once home, he arranged the log for her, placed her in her new home.  He set up the hay trough, got a carrot out to feed her by hand.  He placed the new toys in her cage and decided that "Taz" is not a name for a girl cavie.  Her name should be girly.  Cocoa was the perfect girl name.  The next morning instead of slowly rolling out of bed, he was downstairs in a flash holding Cocoa and stroking her soft brown, tan and white fur.  She snuggled into his arm and he was happy.
Update:  He watched his cavie and worried.  She was spending time in her log and just a little in her cage.  He listened to her warble and coo and she sounded lonely.  He was gone for long periods of time during the day, she needed a friend.  So he approached his parents requesting that his sister purchase the sister to his cavie.  They agreed and she did.

I wander towards the dock this time in the morning with my coffee in  hand. I pause a moment at an oyster bed that has been uncovered by the tide going out. I place my books down grabbing my camera and explore, looking at the reflection of the mountains in the tide pool. The clouds hugging the mountains in little wisps. The sun lighting just the tops of them. I return to my bag and cup of coffee. I feel an urge to sit and be still, to soak up the peace and gentleness that surrounds this little almost monkish like sanctuary. I dig through my bag for my bible and open it up to the Psalms and I read but it didn't fit this place.  I set down my bible and take a couple deep breaths just trying to get the most out of the beauty surrounding me.  I again pick up my bible and read the next Psalm, Psalm 12:1.

It's mid-afternoon, the sun warms my face as I sit on the edge of the dock, crisscross applesauce. The seagulls on the rocks and the water sloshing against the pilings are the only music I am listening to. Every now and then a seal will poke it's head up and splash around before silently sinking below the surface of the water. I am surrounded by looming mountains the come almost straight down to the icy cold salt water. The inlet isn't far from Vancouver by it might as well be a world away, no cell service, no cable, no internet. I feel alone yet not lonely. There is a peace and calmness to this place, it is a retreat from the world, the craziness of life. I sit and ponder and look around. The mountains make me feel small and yet strong at the same time. My knitting sits in my lap as I take time to watch the seagulls soar looking for a place to land. Sometimes I feel like that too, looking for a place to land. Yet I have landed but only temporarily.  I have landed in the teenage years with my kids however that is fleeting, a transition period.

It's a warm sunny mid September afternoon. I sit on the back patio with my knitting needles in hand, the yarn gently wrapped around my fingers as the needle slides in and out of the stitches.  I purl and wrap and knit keeping tention, not too tight, not too loose on the cotton strand. The heat from the sun warming my back as a slight breeze ruffles papers and leaves.  The freeway is humming with a reminder that life is rushing on all around me. Yet I am content to sit here, pausing and being still, taking time to think, reflect and focus.  The movement of the needle as I insert it into the stitch, catch the yarn and pull it on the other needle in a loop is calming.  I almost reflexively work the yarn in the pattern, purl, knit, knit, knit, knit, knit,knit, and again. I think about the countless women who have come before me and done this very same activity only for necessity instead of enjoyment. Strange but I feel connected and part of something. That connection is something I feel when baking bread or making pie crusts from scratch. It's a gentle activity and one that allows me to engage my mind in other areas.  With each purl or knit or yarn over, with each stir of  the batter or cutting of butter into the flour I feel connected to life to other women before me in the simplest of ways. I am given time to ponder, to focus, and to pray.  It gives me a pause in the craziness of my life to quiet my soul. And so on a Sunday afternoon while the world rushes by or watches football, I am enjoying the outdoors in the simplest of ways, and I am being re energized by a connection that no one sees but me.

Lona wanted to start the school year off right and so did I.  I thought hard about what we were going to do this year in school and I knew that I wanted to concentrate more on writing and reading. I had math figured out and science but writing was another thing. I just feel so incompetent with writing and correcting it and grammar, and, and, and, well everything about it.  So we are journaling everyday for 5 minutes. I'm not reading what she has written and it goes to say then that it isn't being corrected. That is just for her, kind of like my blog only paper form. I have a box of prompts for her if she gets stumped but she has to write for 5 minutes. Then we are doing a journal together based on Philippians 4:4-9.  It's about five weeks long and we each have parts that we journal and then there is an art project to go along with it. On top of that, we are going through a writing book.  We did a little of it last year, however this year I want to really work through it. Last year she bagged it when she started to write her super hero story which took all year but I love the way it turned out.  Since I want her to write more, I've been practicing as well with different writing styles. I figure that I could use more practice as well. I am drawn to writing that is introspective yet find it hard to be introspective myself. For reading we are starting with Shakespeare, As You Like It. There are so many quotes from Shakespeare and his themes are universal. Search Pinterest and Shakespeare has many, possibly hundreds of links to plays, movies, quotes, books. He permeates our culture with references.  I think the Bible does to a much grander scale than Shakespeare however he was and still is influential to our language. That being said, I knew that we needed to start out watching the play even if we didn't understand how they talked. I almost couldn't have John talk to me because I needed to pay attention to know what was happening. Now we are reading the play and working on vocabulary, quotes and comprehension questions. When we are all done, I think we will watch that play or another again. Then I think we will need a break and read something fun like Wind in the Willows or Treasure Island. Lona's idea of starting off right was to throw a party and she did. I wasn't up to it but she planned, called, purchased, created, set up and cleaned up her Not Going Back to School Celebration.

It's early and there is a chill in the air, not quite see your breath chilly but getting close. The sun is starting to peak out and I can smell the salt from the sea.  It's early but already there is a line of cars waiting to cross the border. The birds are scavenging from what was left from the night and my ears are full of their voices calling to each other. Lona and I stand next to each other almost cuddling for warmth. Another couple of people are here, waiting like us. We chat awkwardly at first getting to know each other, finding out connections. My stomach growls, wanting breakfast, missing the croissant that I wanted to purchase on the way up.  It's 6:30 am, now 7:00 am, and a large RV rumbles down the street. It pulls up and backs into a parking space. It has decals on it about fundraising across America and Hope for Warriors. People start piling out of cars, walking towards the RV. The side door of this monster opens and four people step out with excitement and full of emotion. There is hugging and crying.  People begin talking excitedly, questions are asked, introductions are made, and we pray. Lona and I hang back a little. We know these people but not well.  They have blessed the youth at our church and I thought we would see them off on their adventure, following them on Facebook as they cross America on their bikes, not motorcycles but bikes.  Lona and watch from a little bit of a distance as they ready their gear. The water bottles are placed in the holders on their bikes and they turn their lights to flashing on the back of their helmets. They start their Go Pros on their bikes, their GPS is set and they mount their bikes and start peddling down the street as their friends who are behind cheer with tears streaming down their faces.  It's a long way to Key West Florida. There are many mountain passes and they are determined to ride the whole way. I glance at Lona wondering if she would ever want to go on an adventure like this. It isn't something many people would undertake. Not only that but they are raising funds for veterans as they do this.  In my mind I think about my bucket list, is just a wish list or will I see some of it through?