My second child to become an "official/legal" adult. This is a major milestone birthday.  This year he can vote. This year, he doesn't need me on his bank account. This year, he can purchase items before that were off limits to himself and make decisions that were off limits.  Becoming an adult in the eyes of the law and society doesn't always make it so. There have certainly been changes in this last year and are seeing a different aspect to him.  I've seen him articulate more of his ideas and why he has them. His views of busy work at school. He explains why he wants to change from one class to another due to his view of relatability to the real world.  In the last year he has figured out that his career that he would like to pursue is more towards actual hands on work rather than the bureaucratic busy mental work. He knows that a four year degree won't serve him and that isn't the direction he wants to pursue at this time. I've always thought all my kids would have a four year degree but he has changed my mind. Why is it necessary if it doesn't provide a means to an end and only debt to pay? There is a staggering statistic that only 27 percent of people end up in careers related to their major for example, my husband has pursued a career in his major but I have not. We are also in a unique time period. Trade careers need people due to schools funneling so many kids to university that may not serve them. And then there are the careers that people are able create that aren't a degree yet or that are able to be self taught.  Job has always gone his own way whether that is how he acts within the family or at school, not changing who he is.  He balks at meaningless stuff and work. He learns quickly but does so with what he's interested in or if it applies to life in his opinion.  He's experienced only a little life and so he has ideas that need to be nudged in a different way but trying to change his mind on something is near impossible.  Gently nudging and waiting is easier than pulling, cajoling, and driving.  Isaac is impressed with how stubbornly he will stick to his principles. He's hilarious at times and makes a lot of things into a joke or he invents ways to make things entertaining to him, such as trying to build the tallest tower of assembled shipping boxes at work. He doesn't care about his popularity or who his friends are, however he does keep some friends seperate.  He has school friends and church friends but he doesn't mix the two.  I have no idea why. He treats them the same and is goofy with both. In fact the other day he wanted to show one of his school friends his costume this year - a blue onsie.  That is my boy.  He's been working in addition to school and soccer. His schedule is school from 8 to 2:30. Home for a snack and then Monday through Wednesday and Friday he works 3:30 to 7:30 at a chocolate factory.  On Tuesday and Wednesday nights he comes home has dinner and then off to soccer practice from 8 to 9:30.  He doesn't work on Thursdays because soccer practice is at 4:30.  He has games on Sunday and has been driving a third of his team each Sunday to out of town games and having a blast doing it. A year ago I would have said no way but he's matured and I'm ready.  This summer he decided to go camping with some friends and so threw some food in a cooler and sleeping bag in the van and he left.  He has become independent. However,he went with a family and so they pretty much took care of him.  Apple juice and sausages just wasn't going to cut it for camping.  He's learning. I laugh but know that he will land on his feet and he will be ready for life.  He isn't afraid of it, just meets it head on in his own way.  So Happy 18th Birthday and enjoy the journey. 

Perfection surrounds me, mocking me, goading me, lying to me. I turn on my computer and perfect images of homes and kids and lives and food assault me. I look around my home and see the dishes in the sink, the clothes piled on the floor ready to be put into the wash, the shoes left next to their bins. This isn't perfect. In the past I've questioned my self worth. Am I good enough, I can't keep the floors swept. I clean the kitchen after dinner and by morning the sink is piled again with midnight snacks. Is there something I am doing wrong? I can't seem to keep my weight in check, my kids in check, myself in check. There is no perfection here. I forget things, write down game times wrong, put the appointment on the wrong day on the calendar.  I have visions of taking time to enjoy the fall with morning walks and taking perfect pictures only to realize a) I have other things scheduled for the morning or b) can't muster the energy to put on my shoes. There is no perfection there either. The carpet in house is stained a dingy brown due to kids and dogs, the wood floors are stripped down to bare wood in spots, there are holes in the laminate flooring from knives being dropped. Perfection, hardly. And then these apples came into the house; spotted brown and with worm holes and I loved them. They are like me. Imperfect and still amazing in their taste. I took them out of the box and marveled at the color, yellows and reds with dried green leaves attached. I placed them on the counter and saw how the light caressed them, highlighting the curves, showcasing the imperfect brown spots that are so becoming of the apples. Finally, I sliced them, cutting out the worms, boiled them and made them into apple sauce adding just the right amount of sweetness to enhance the little bit of the tart taste of the apple; and they taste just right.

This summer I've had to get on my bike more due to a meniscus tear so the hiking I like so much has been put off to another summer. I've taken it easy on the trails, riding on things I feel in control. Each time I climb a small hill, I feel my knee catching, clicking and popping.  It's funny because I thought at one point I would like "trail" riding and mountain biking. I tried my hand at it and it turns out I feel out of control.  I grip the handlebars with white knuckles, my teeth grind together, and I feel my whole body become ridged.  I am uncomfortable and nervous. The thought is easy, the action not so much. I've decided that I'm a bike basket, easy trail, stop at a bakery or brewery kind of biking gal and John has been so patient and gracious to me. He pulls down the bikes, and places them in the truck, choses the trail that with my knee and my ability I can handle. Knowing my limitations, he encourages and smiles and takes his time. I stop when I see light that makes me gasp, taking a photo and he waits or sometimes riding a bit ahead or on a trail that goes along side that is more challenging, yet never impatient with me. We both are taking this year in enjoying the little things we can do and finding ones we can do together.

There is something so satisfying about watching growth happen and then reaping the rewards of your effort.  This is such a simple thing but from the spring we watch and wait and work and water in anticipation. The harvest comes and we've already pruned out half of the fruit before they became too big and now we can pick the remaining fruit. We pick and eat fresh from the tree with juice dribbling down our chins dripping sticky spots on the floor.  I bake rum spiced walnut pear tartes and caramel pear pies. They go in salads with goat cheese, spinach and walnuts and a creamy dressing. I have plans to bake, glaze and grill them.We give them to friends and neighbors.  The smell of ripe pears permeates the house for two weeks and then they are gone.  Until the first hint of pears comes with the blossoms on the tree in the spring.