The Katsup Post

I tried to post a story about the Story for All Ages I told today at church. It was inspired by my pal Boston Unitarian and it was all about how Unitarian leaders have influenced our country--you know, for the fourth of July.

But technology has me perched on the edge of my last nerve, and I will not succumb to it's evil ways.

Or I'll just give up and go watch TV with my sons.

The boys toiled in hot fields of weeds today, and in steamy swimming pools--two of them swimming and enjoying, one of them life guarding. I want to see them for a bit anyhow. You see, they leave tomorrow. All three of them. They're going to the summer camp that they go to every year. It's a camp about Korean Identity, and it's really aimed at Korean Adoptees, but being that our family is completely advanced and is already on our SECOND generation after the Korean adoption, well, they go and enjoy some time with their Korean teen friends, partially subsidized by the South Korean government (go ahead and ask me about that, I'll tell you but it isn't pretty). And the truth is, this is the first year that they are all old enough to all go to the sleep over camp.

That means that I have four days and three nights in my house, with my husband, with no kids. Lord help me, we may just come away with an entirely re-painted house. What the hell do you do with your spouse when there are no kids around? I've completely forgotten how to relate in complete sentences, how to have a conversation that goes from PARAGRAPH to paragraph and not snippet to snippet. We're talking almost since the 80s that we've had space like this.

Of course, we begin Monday morning with a teleconference and a lunch meeting for him, a board report and summer map of the planned projects for me. There's the writing project, two church meetings and full days of work. So maybe we'll just come home and collapse like we always do.

Or maybe we'll go out for cheese and olives and good red wine with some live jazz for dinner.

Maybe we'll meet for a lunch downtown and walk through the piazza and stroll through the art gallery.

Maybe, just maybe, we'll hike up to the top of a bluff and sit with a bottle of pelligrino and a loaf of bread and plan the next ten years of our lives.

Or maybe we'll just anticipate what it might be like someday when soccer trips are over, piles of turned in socks are gone and our days go on and on and end and begin in a lazy circle of good work, good life and good love.

I will miss my kids like someone has removed my right arm, and I simply cannot wait.