Mrs. Flinger Est 2003

We are over Deluth. We are leaving the Big Apple behind in sunset lights and long shadows.  I ponder the past few days, how a few days can be such a grand event, how every group of few days provides alternate versions of life. Carrying my camera down the streets of Brooklyn, watching with the eye of an observer, I pictured myself walking to the cafe to meet a friend on this sunny morning. I would know the cafe barista because this is what we do most Saturdays. I’m not sure if I own a dog, a small one, in this alternate life,  but if I do, he walks with me as the kids run ahead. I can see this all through my lens, and my eyes tear up for a brief second with the thought of my children, how wonderfully in love I am with them, how deeply I miss them every single trip, and how desperate I am to show them these lives, even if we do not live them.

*I should always wear a Jenn Lukas as an accessory.*

I’ve had a partial written summary of my time in Austin at SXSW for over a week. As I’m not one to over edit anything (if you read me very long you’ll probably call out grammar issues and typos in comments) it is a puzzle to me why I didn’t just hit submit when I finished writing.

Maybe this is called “Personal Growth.”

This morning my daughter came down decked out in layers of plaid skirts, short tights, polka dot socks and crocks. Her paisley purple shirt topped off the entire outfit with a proper bow at the neckline. She illuminated joy from every ounce of her 7 year old tiny body. “Wow, hon! You’re a party!” She beamed at this compliment from me and sat down all sorts of matter-of-fact at breakfast ready for the day.

My kid? She has the pizazz.

The Perfection of Imperfect.

Saturday we had a small going away party for some friends of ours. They’re moving back to LA after two years of this [shitty weather] northwest experience. I thought I’d help out since it was a last minute party and offered to bring some beer. I mean, comon, you need beer at a party for bloggers. Or anyone, for that matter.

I stopped at the brewery to pick up a growler of local fare.

Six Mothers’ Days.

Two children.

“For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.” – Robert Louis Stevenson