Late to the NaPhotoPoMo party

Afternoon stroll, Soda Springs, CA.

Who’s going to be a grown young man before I’m ready for it? He’s going to be a grown young man before I’m ready for it. Five, going on really no more than six, most days. Saints be praised.

And yes, I’m late to the NaPhotoPoMo party, but when should that stop a gal from coming to the party at all? NaPhotoPoMo meaning, to me, National Photo Posting Month, my variation on NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month.

I’ve been busy helping get this really fantastic online community Lesbian Family back in gear (which gear seems to be “high”!), and thus have left the light off over here for much longer than usual, even in my work-smacked heyday. Do accept my apologies. But better my blog silence be due to being happy-busy at a project at the epicenter of my passion and joy than due to being in an inconsolable stupor due to breath-knocked-out-didn’t-see-it-coming-job-loss, sez me. Which the silence, had it occurred a month or so earlier, could very well have been.

Interesting thing is, what I dove right into, when I no longer had a job to dive into every day and most weekends, was life with my kids again. Which I photographed.

So I have plenty of images to post here for the rest of the month. A documentary of the restoration of my daily hands-on family life, actually. Not sure if I’ll pull off doing two a day and thus, by the end of November, retroactively, sneaky-like, managing to have averaged out “a post a day,” the rallying cry of NaBloPoMo. Time will tell. Meanwhile, thanks for stopping by.


That’s what she said


Me Myself and I, 3rd grade school assignment, Berkeley, CA


Back-to-School night was a few weeks back. Now that both kids are at the same school, we were busy:  two classrooms to case, two teachers to whom to introduce ourselves/ our family make-up/ our family nomenclature/ etc., two clumps of curious parents to which to introduce ourselves.  Our divide-and-conquer strategy was hampered by the familiar Mama will need to extirpate herself from the theater and won’t be able to be there for the whole shebang thing, magnified my wobbly stumbling in the wake of my recent unanticipated job loss.  Outgoing Presidents and Presidents-elect have over two months in which to effectively transfer and assume power, and I am thinking Mrs Dad and I are going to need at least that much time to re-shape our family rhythms now that I’m back in them again.  Meanwhile, there’s the frequent backing into each other in the kitchen, and the simultaneously uttered “I thought you scored the babysitter for tonight!”

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