Looking back with Lot's Wife

Do you ever get that kind of tired where you feel all whiney and you can’t stop telling people how tired you are? But you’re not tired, really, you’re just whiney? My family hates it when this mood comes to call, which it occasionally does, although, of course, normally you would describe me as effervescent and sparkly as a bottle of Martinelli’s fake champagne. When this happens, a pair of torn green sweat pants sneak out of the closet and jump me along with this really comfortable men’s T-shirt that makes me look like a bag full of balloons. The fridge door opens with a rush of cool air and, surprise, out pops the ice cream! How delightful. Why does this happen to me? Why does it happen to anybody? My first theory is that it comes from never saying no and never giving yourself time to be alone, a warning to those of us who have a pretty steady supply of family around the old kitchen table. Suddenly, it becomes alluring to stay up until two in the morning watching movies, reading t

My friends LaRue and Jack live in Grand Junction and were home school-ers for their five kids. Now those five kids are home schooling also. Last week I was visiting and went to a family band practice at the home of an Amish family also home schooled. My thoughts weren’t about being Amish or home schooling, but about the different shapes of families and the comfort therein. At band practice, everyone moved so easily. A small girl strummed a mandolin, roughly on beat, completely drowned out by the others. Someday she plans to be part of the band but for now she’s intently watching the others, serious about her participation. It always surprises me that all the kids are home all day. They drop in at grandma’s to make cookies and pick things up in the middle of a Wednesday morning. The moms are planting gardens and calling LaRue like she was the library, “Do you think the tomatoes will get enough sun on the side of the house?” “Can you use honey to replace sugar in banana bread?” Th

I'm thinking about doing something different with my yard this year. I'm thinking about doing exactly what I want. This is new for me. Gardening has always been fraught with rules about "too late," "too early," "too hot," "too cold," "too much acid," "not enough fertilizer." It all centers around the great mystery of horticulture, something that other people know, even some people I think are kind of dumb. It's like there's actually going to be an atomic explosion if something costing 98 cents dies in my yard. People will stand and point, "Look, half their delphiniums died. What num-nuts." (I would reconsider word choice here because you’re trying to spell numb-nuts, referring to the male genitalia.) Then two years ago there was a big moment in my life, a moment in mid-July, with the temperature hovering around 95, that I decided to get rid of this big orange spikey thing by the front porch. Not wanti