It’ll Make A Turd

Something that is less than great-tasting but will do the job. A friend said this of a joke snack we brought to a playdate eons ago. This past year has been less than ideal, less than less than ideal, even. It will make a turd, though, a giant, terrible turd. A turd filled with tantrums, homeschooling, broken bones and house projects.

The lowlight was definitely the broken bones. There have been a few highlights that are sometimes hard to think of because this turd year has dragged on   f  o  r  e  v  e  r.

The boys have their own rooms, now, which they had liked the idea of for a while … which means I have a bigger room to leave my things all over, much like they used to leave the lego everyfuckingwhere. We built a cabin, or a tiny terrace, out in the trees for me.

I was going to do ALL the writing out there but then homeschool and fires and winter and the broken bones, so I haven’t actually been out there. But building it was great.

And now summer looms over the end of school – even though it is raining right now – and we’re ready to be out in the world again, vaccinated and looking to party. I’m ready to post pictures of late night shenanigans with my friends again, instead of wondering how many screen hours are too many for kids in quarantine. Turns out that number is fluid.

I put in some hummingbird feeders and honestly, they have provided some of the only tranquility throughout this whole period.

Borrowing ebooks from the library using their app is absolutely brilliant and has kept me in lighthearted books as often as I want them. I remembered some others last night but I forgot them this morning. And that is probably a perfect analogy for everything – good things with not good, sometimes best forgotten.

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