Well, we did survive Brianna's princess party. Fortunately for me, we ended up with only three little princesses. I had forgotten how hyper three five-year-olds can be. You can dress them up like princesses, but they're still going to race up and down the halls terrorizing the cats. All in all, it was a fine time that the girls enjoyed, probably even more than they would have if we had done all my cool little princess activities.

We gave Brianna a bicycle for her birthday. It is pink and purple and sparkly, and it has training wheels. She is quite pleased. She has been riding on the long stretch of paved alley that the driveways come off of in our little neighborhood. There is a bit of a slope--enough that when she starts down, I cannot run fast enough to keep up with her. She pedals in total confidence, the wind blowing her hair back as she speeds along.
I was a few years older when I got my first bike. I t didn't have training wheels. It was pink too, but a quiet pastel pink instead of a flashy hot pink. And it had flowers on the seat cover. It didn't come from an impersonal Walmart like Brianna's. My grandfather got it from a firend of his who ran a bike sho pand repainted it that pale pink just for me. But I was much more cautious than Brianna. If I had ever started to go as fast as she does, I would have slowed myself down --what if a cat ran in front of me or something? I don't really remember riding my bike TO places much, just around and around the church parking lot until my daydreaming got the better of my balance.
Years later, I decided I needed a bike again. I thought it would be a car-free mode of transportation. And I bought into that whole thing that people say about, "It's just like riding a bike." I really thought I would sit down on the bike and naturally balance and then move through the world with grace and ease. But I never found grace or ease or even much balance on my bike. That was quite a disappointment.
So when I watch Brianna flying full-speed down the alley the first day on her bike, I am in awe. And I am grateful, once again, for the ways she is not like me.

Woohoo! I finally figured out how to get back on my own blog!
Now that my department has relocated, my day begins with a bus-train-bus commute. It's kind of annoying because no one segment lasts long enough to get any serious grading done, and those segments are punctuated by long waits outside where it is too windy to get any grading done. SO, at my boss's suggestion, I have given up trying to grade en route and given into the temptation to spend those commute hours on frivolous reading. I am way behind in grading paragraphs, but . . .
A few days ago, I was sitting at the bus stop in a very whiny mode, thinking, "I am so exhausted--I really don't think I can do this one more day." And then even whinier: "I really miss my family. I actually like hanging out with Paul and Brianna, and it seems like all I do at home any more is grade or sleep. I am in bed so fast most days. I miss them."
But then, the bus came and I decided to crack open the ELizabeth Berg book of short stories I was carrying, "Ordinary Life." Elizabeth Berg is one of my favorite writers because reading her stuff always makes me feel more affectionate toward people in my life and always makes me want to write too. Before we had even made it to the train station, I was looking out the window at the lights of the heavy traffic on the still-dark streets and getting a lump in my throat over how beautiful the sight was. Wow! A reminder of the ability of good writing to transform.
Eventually, I had to put the Berg book aside for a while because I was getting so full of stuff to write myself that I thought I would burst. But now I am able to get back on my blog, so I can start typing in all that stuff.