Sisters, revealed

The looks on their faces are truly priceless, don't you think?

It's official. . .

Fletcher is taking this whole potty thing very seriously now.  

The one drawback of her wonderful new trick, though, is that whenever I go to the bathroom now, she comes running in, watches me pee, and then proclaims with great gusto, "I'm so PROUD of you!!!!!"

Toes!

I hope that Fletcher doesn't start sucking her big toe as much as Gryphon sucks her thumb.  That would get uncomfortable.

Little bit lonely. . .

So, Darling Husband has been gone for almost seven days now.  While I have missed him every day since his departure, it has been over the last two days that I have been REALLY pining for him.  On Monday afternoon he exited the overly interconnected world [yes, I am aware of the irony of calling this time we live in 'overly interconnected' on a blog] and entered the weird wonderful world of Burning Man  - there is no cell phone, interwebs or gmail on the Playa.  
Well, almost.  Or mostly.  There was a flurry of worry as early arrivals reported some cell service in Black Rock City, but in the end it appears that the arrival of the masses again made direct contact with the outside world nearly impossible.   
This made me think about how technology has so indelibly changed our society.  There are all of these wonderful tools to stay connected with the people around us, but in addition to making it harder to escape our past, it is also as if we have forgotten how to really truly miss people.  Because, well, technically, they are always  in our pocket.  Experiencing a week of no contact what so ever puts old love letters, written during periods of months or even years of absence, after which time a reunion could not be promised, in perspective. . . 

*  *  *  *  *

While awaiting your return (in one piece I hope), my dearest Ben, I am merely a spectator, hanging out above your world in the desert.  Even though you cannot call out to me, I can peek at the happenings on the Playa.  Indeed, when the server is not overloaded with spectators like me, I hope that maybe I will catch a glimpse of you among the great unwashed.  As I write, evening is arriving in Black Rock City.  Enjoy the crazy night, my darling.

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Singalong

The girls and I have a long standing habit of playing big loud music in the car in the morning on the way to school - bands like Radiohead and Powderfinger.  Lately we have been thrashing Muse, the 'biggest band America doesn't know anything about', really REALLY loudly.  Fletcher has taken to one particular song, and belts it out at the top of her lungs, plus undertakes a whiplash inducing head banging stint at the appropriate musical moment.  Watch, listen and imagine.  
Knights of Cydonia Live at Wembley (Fletcher usually really gets going at about the 3:00 minute mark):