At the end of the summer I sat Loren down and said something along the lines of, “Here’s the thing. I know you’ve gotta find you, be you, live you. But you were 11 when Devon was born. You’ll remember everything about his younger years, but he will likely only remember the more recent years, the ones where you’ve been absent. Next year you’ll be graduated and gone and he’ll be here. And what will he have of you?” Ouch. I cringe even as I write of my manipulation, but the thing is? It totally worked. Whereas Lo used to arrange his visitation schedule so that he would be at the opposite house of Devon and Cass, he now spends nearly every week night staying wherever they happen to be. And this is wonderful, I feel like I have a full compilation of children again. But at the same time? Oh. My. God. There are three of them and one of me and I am beginning to remember how crazy it was with all three of them. The noise. The rapid fire questions from three -all at once. The anxiety of trying to answer all three questions, in the proper order, with the appropriate amount of thought devoted to each one. But I’m also basking in the energy of all three, looking at these beautiful souls and knowing that for these moments they are mine to share.

Next summer, or fall if that is the case, will come soon enough and Loren will be off to wherever it is he will fly. Last week it was an internship in Santa Barbara, this week it is film school with the winter spent on the mountains filming. Next week it will evolve into something else until he reaches the place and time just right for his future. Puberty has been a rough one, and that is an understatement. And however long these times of having all three of the children together will be what they will be: true, chaotic and dear beyond words.

When I stopped eating gluten the headaches diminished considerably for nearly 18 months. It was heavenly to drink coffee, have chocolate, drink red wine, not fear a change in weather patterns. But now something has gone awry. I’m not sure if that damn porcupine just got a bit cocky and has decided his hibernation lasted long enough. Or maybe it’s living with my mother, I don’t want to say she cosmically digs her nails into the base of my skull and wakes the pointy beast, but… It could be parenting two teens, the older one has gotten easier of late but that younger she-teen? Oh no, she’s kicking my ass on a daily basis just for the sheer enjoyment of it. Then there’s the six year-old and his need to incessantly chat. About EVERYTHING. It could be that I’ve been waiting to go full time at my work for over a year now so that I can get benefits, thank you recession for that. Maybe it’s turning 40 and realizing the toll gravity has taken on my overly large bosoms. Could be Generalized Anxiety Disorder, my bff who always keeps me company and whispers all the above into my ear nearly every second of every damn day. Or, well frankly, the list is endless.

What I’m pretty sure my headaches are not: A slow bleed, I would have been stiff and blue 8 weeks ago. The Cancer.  As my mother reminded me, I would have lost significant amounts of weight by now were that the case. She’s soft and honest that way.

Tonight our chat shifted focus from his life to mine and his insights were stunningly accurate. This boy-man knows far more than he lets on, sees more than I do. I am so blessed to have him for the time I do.

I figured he might roll his eyes and pretend to be asleep, but instead he replied, “Yup, but I wish I could have voted this year.”

We don’t have cable TV at The Manor so I didn’t know he had been following the races. “Why?”

“Because then maybe we could have cut down on some of those damn Republicans getting elected.”

My God, I don’t totally suck after all! Sure, his father might have something to do with Lo’s liberal views but I have to think I get some credit for this too.

There was one election in which I did not voteand Catholic guilt from my negligence burnt a hole in my soul. The thought that my lack of get up and go contributed to a reign of Texan Republicans ate at me -off and on- for four years. So today I wear my I Voted! sticker with great pride. I have a skip in my step and maybe even a vague hope that the political see-saw won’t tip in the direction of a hell where the rich aren’t taxed appropriately, teachers and other public servants don’t need to have multiple jobs just to make rent and full medical insurance is a reality. Call me a dreamer.

In a feeling of optimism I have been listening to this song lately. I love the happiness it radiates from every line.

Recently I decided that my half marathon training was in the dumps to such an extent that a pleasure purchase was exactly the sort of boost my sorry ass morale needed in order to continue beating myself up in pursuit of additional mileage. I have long been eyeing a running skort to add to my paltry collection of training costumes. The skorts are sassy and say to the rest of the beings on the trail, “Hey, I’m fun and pain brings me joy. So get the hell out of my way.” I would love to acquire a high end skirt, but realistically this is the end of August and the kids are returning to school which means tuition…. So instead I opted for a cheapy Target skort. But the bang for those mere sixteen dollars? While not quite running nirvana, the results were something close to tingly.  I ran on the trail with the hem of the skort gently tapping on the lower region of my behind,  a soft sort of love spank with each step. There was no inner thigh chaffing like I get with traditional running shorts. There is even a small key pocket for treasures. Simply put -I am in love with my running skort.

Now I know that while I find myself to be absolutely fetching in my skort, I understand that in reality there is all sorts of business that is so wrong about this garment. My skin holds close to no melanin and nearly glows in regular light. There are bumps and valleys of cellulite out back that I pretend do not exist, add a short, flouncy skirt to that and the view is less than breathtaking. However,  in the privacy of my head there are many upsides to this new found delight of mine, I think the best one is that at close to mile three I found something close to peace for the first time in a couple of weeks. And that is Golden.

That isn’t to say the first mile or so of each run wasn’t a bitch in half of an argument between my brain and my body, but once I reached mile three or so it all came together in a cosmic combination of trail, muscles in motion and tranquility. At the magic point of mile three I could feel my muscles let go of their daily aggressions. The cartilage between my bones seemed to soften, releasing insecurities and making peace with the attached tendons. And the noise in my head? Gooooooone. Nothing but silence up there where usually chaotic self-flogging reigns for most of my waking hours. In short, some sort of nirvana in motion was happening. It was divine, like crack in a nurturing form.

I am obviously pissed now that I can’t reach this point. Is it gone for good? Will I ever again receive that Holy Communion of running grace? I sure as hell better because to bust my ass and feel like crap? I could stay home and eat ice cream and feel the same way, only minus the exertion.

The other day while taking a breather during a not so good run I took a moment to take these with my iphone. I thought the stringy strands on these berry trees were whimsical in a Dr. Zeuss kind of way.

Last weekend we headed over a mountain pass to the Paonia area for some sociable camping with some dear friends. We met up with another family who happen to be a pair of the hippest educational folk I have ever met. It was super fun, contained ample amounts of drink, which I paid for dearly the next day, and more mosquitoes than I can even mention -Devon ended up with at least 76 bites on his lower extremities alone. There was insane amounts of rain, which only attracted more biting bugs. But ultimately it was fun. For a variety of reasons this weekend will mark out last camping adventure for Summer of 2010. I’m sensing some relief in that last sentence.

One of our favorite activities to do in the Paonia area is to go pick veggies and fruits at the many farms there. This particular farm has a pair of huge orange cats and one of the best climbing trees for a young fellow with monkey tendencies. We picked blackberries, some yellow squash and a bottle of local wine.