Word Winding

attempting to spin cacophony into sanity

Archive for the category “Unphotographed Moments”

Farewell to Gemini

I was a touch melancholy today, and it took Rapunzel about 30 seconds (over the phone, while driving, even — she is good) to figure out why for me:

My sister Gemini headed back to China yesterday. And I miss her.

She has been teaching in Shanghai for the past school year, and is under contract for another year with an inclination toward staying longer than that.

It’s hard having her live so far away, in a time zone not conducive to skyping. Once I dismantled the emotional barricade of missing her, however, I was left with a swell of gratitude.

I am so lucky to have her for a sister. Despite being very different from me externally, in both personality and lifestyle (she is lively, extroverted, an incorrigible shopper, usually surrounded by heaps of friends, has neither spouse nor kids, etc. etc.), when we make the time to talk, we land on the same page with very little effort. She is a deep and unconventional thinker who asks the right sort of questions, and although she can chatter up a storm when she wants to, she listens well, too. The stories of our childhood, and the mother we lost, are alive in one another, and just being together recharges them, even when they are not actively being recalled.

It is a nice memory I have now, from the other night: me perched on the bed, her nestled into the chair, our eyes sparkling with laughter in the lamplight. Swapping stories from the past year, unraveling who we each have become, and are becoming.

Mom would be proud. I know I am.




Unphotographed Moments – Days Twenty-Nine, Thirty, and Thirty-One

(This post is part of a series for August 2013 entitled “Unphotographed Moments.” Read the intro to the series here.)

Thursday’s Unphotographed Moments:

Owlet, my proud helper, choosing birthday balloons for Gertrude and holding them in all their threatening-to-escape helium glory throughout the store until we purchased them and tied weights to their strings, and then carrying them out to the car herself, feeling no doubt quite grownup for not holding my hand (we have recently begun allowing this on small streets and not-too-busy parking lots and she loves it).

The teenage squirrel whom our cats first caught on Wednesday (Thor was able to rescue it by keeping the cats at bay with a rake) returned. This time I was the rescuer — I put a broom down next to it, intending to shelter it from the cat, but it climbed onto the broom so instead I carried it across the yard and lifted it via broom elevator to the fence top.

Friday’s Unphotographed Moments:

Several sightings of the little squirrel in our small front yard during our routine comings and goings. The little guy is not nearly skittish enough for my liking, and why on earth has it chosen a house with three cats? Platypup wanted to catch it, and I held him back for fear it would let him!

Owlet lounging on top of me, belly to belly, laughing every time mine gurgled.

The re-return of our friendly neighborhood squirrel. Cricket seems to enjoy playing with it but not roughly enough to do visible damage. It plays dead like nobody’s business only to frolic off when its attacker loses interest. The squirrel declined the offer of a broom ride, so after watching this process repeat a few times, I got bored and went back inside. Cricket followed at my heels and went for a bite from his bowl… Clearly he lacks incentive.

Saturday’s Unphotographed Moments:

Getting to play bridge for the first time in ages and ages! Our bridge buddies from when we all lived in Boston now live a couple hours away, and we do not get together as often as we would like. We did not have high hopes for playing much since Thor had to work both Friday night and Saturday night, but Platypup obligingly took a decent nap and Owlet was mostly content to amuse herself so we were able to play much of the afternoon.

Platypup lying in my lap trying to both nurse and dance, with mixed success.

And finally…

The return of our little fish!

We did twice-weekly swimming lessons with Owlet from early toddlerhood till sometime this past spring, and she was swimming. Real swimming. Gorgeous mermaid underwater swimming. We would enter the pool together and I would sweep backwards, facing her, arms outstretched and grinning every time to see her toddle down the steps and push off, wiggling toward me, not doggy paddling or anything recognizable, but in a stroke all her own.

And then we fell off the lesson bandwagon for a variety of logical but not good enough reasons and did not swim for awhile. And the next time we went to a pool, she had forgotten.

To say Thor and I felt guilty would be to say a pool is damp. The word is inadequate.

We tried to coax her body and mind into remembering, to no avail. Reluctantly we attempted to shelve the shimmering memory of our merchild and start from scratch. And made sure to resume swimming regularly.

Today our forced nonchalance paid off. Today she forgot to care about getting her face wet, pushed off the pool bottom with her feet, and swam several paces. And then she did it again.

That is my final “unphotographed moment” of the month, and it belongs tucked firmly against the memory of her first learning to swim. It is her triumph, and ours, a reminder of how things of value can be lost if care is not taken, a reminder to take time where time is needed, a reminder that what feels like the end may in fact be intermission. Most of all, it is a reminder not to underestimate the tenacity of our quiet little firecracker of a fish.


Today’s one-shot photo:


Beading work in progress.

Unphotographed Moments – Day Twenty-Eight

(This post is part of a series for August 2013 entitled “Unphotographed Moments.” Read the intro to the series here.)

Today’s Unphotographed Moments:

Owlet again frozen into a shy statue of a child with magical mommy-glomming powers for much of her ballet class. Owlet again utterly in love with all things ballet… once class was over. We are going to pop by to watch the other little kid class to give her a chance to observe out of the spotlight and to allow Thor and I to see whether the other teacher might be a better match for her. We stayed after class ended to watch the slightly older class after hers, and she was almost ready to go out on the floor and join them! Partially, I think, because they were doing so much more “real” dancing, but also because the (same) teacher was less focused on capturing the kids’ attention with an overly enthusiastic tone of voice.

Owlet and Platypup playing without me — Owlet closed the door on me saying, “no visitors allowed.” I waited a few moments, then once I heard thumping I peeked in (since they were in Thor’s office) and discovered them both grinning at me from under his desk, upon which they were knocking. “Can you ask us who we are?” Owlet said, and when I dutifully asked, she answered after a brief pause for consideration, “Mr. and Mr. Golland.” It came out in due course that she was Mister and Platypup was Mr. Golland. Utterly delightful.

Hearing back from an elementary school music teacher already regarding my Principal-spamming scholarship offering! A good connection was made via phone and she has two students in mind, both of whom already play viola though one may want to switch to violin. She will share my info with the parents who, if interested, will contact me.


Today’s one-shot photo:


Platypup, having already destroyed the daily schedule velcro laminated wall thingy I made for Owlet before he was born, today climbed onto the lego table to tackle the weekly schedule, studiously removing all of the (actually somewhat outdated) weekly activities previously attached via velcro. Ah, the things that work when you have one child that cease to hold water with two!

Unphotographed Moments – Day Twenty-Seven

(This post is part of a series for August 2013 entitled “Unphotographed Moments.” Read the intro to the series here.)

Today’s Unphotographed Moments:

Babysitting a sweet one year old and feeling slightly guilty for his completely mud-encrusted pants!

Having one of those fabulous teaching days where every lesson goes not just well but really exceptionally well.

Watching my daughter write my “real” name (Elizabeth instead of Mommy) for the first time.

Allowing both kids to gleefully sweep crayons from tabletop to floor as long as they were willing to pick them up afterward — and they did!

Sitting here finally getting around to emailing the principals of local elementary schools asking them to identify a student or two most likely to both be interested in violin, viola, or cello and to be unable to afford lessons to whom I might award a full or partial scholarship for the school year. (I have decided to offer two full scholarships, or four partial, or one full and two partial.) The irrational fear of principals is far-reaching indeed — I was mightily amused when I realized I was nervous about pushing send simply because they are principals! And of course promptly pushed send. Because I am out of their jurisdiction! Bwa-ha-ha.


Today’s one-shot photo:


Here you can see the bell Thor and I rang at our wedding. We are supposed to ring it whenever we argue to remind us of that day. It is also required that we then kiss. It works quite well and is a worthy companion to our recently adopted Purple People Eater.

Unphotographed Moments – Catchup Round (Days Twenty-Two Through Twenty-Six)

(This post is part of a series for August 2013 entitled “Unphotographed Moments.” Read the intro to the series here.)

Thursday’s Unphotographed Moment:

Without forewarning or fanfare I schlepped my cello over to my beloved friends’ house for a planned gathering, answered queries with a vague “yes, I am going to play something later,” and parked it against a divider wall between living room and kitchen. A few glasses of wine later, my hosts’ curiosity finally got the better of them, and they asked more specifically, what? And when? I love a good surprise, but this was not the time for one, and I awkwardly admitted to having written a piece for solo cello in honor of, in memory of, in mourning for the brilliant light that was their three year old son, diagnosed with JMML a year ago, lost nearly seven months ago, who ought to be turning four years old next week.

I warmed up with a piece I’d been meaning to share with them for awhile: “Mashed Marley,” a Bob Marley medley written by request of one of my students, written around the time they lost their Marley-loving son. A piece easily memorized by proxy during lessons, and quite fun to play, if I do say so myself.

Then my piece. Their piece. Written for their son, and them, and the tremendous jagged boy-shaped hole in their lives. A piece I do not yet have completely memorized, and thus Rapunzel volunteered herself as human music stand. And I began to play. And my music stand began to cry. And it was horrible and lovely and I didn’t do a terrible job, despite the wine.

I know their hearts felt my intent. In the hand clasping, the eye welling, the glistening silence after the last percussive tap on my cello’s resonant surface.

I treasure these friends, who do not need to recapture the momentum of conversation, who can allow a moment to be uncomfortably beautiful and sad, who do not mind the restlessness of my post-performance hands entwining fabric in purposeless loops, like rosary beads or daisy chains.

Friday’s Unphotographed Moment:

Sharing a playground with a horde of teenagers, approximately freshmen in high school. To my surprise, the boys were the most considerate (rebuking “Don’t swear! There’s a little kid over there!”) while the girls were heedless — one even stole the tire swing from Owlet while I was catching a wandering Platypup and declined to see us standing five feet away until I said, “excuse me,” in my best stern mama voice.

Saturday’s Unphotographed Moment:

Tricycling home from a solo-parent dinner out with my little ones, a warm-turning-cool breeze ruffling our hair, a cloud-smeared sunset glossing our cheeks. Feeling the essence of “unphotographed moments” ringing deep within me.

Sunday’s Unphotographed Moments:

Driving a preteen child whose parent is ill to UU. Listening to her bright alto sing to my poopy-fussy Platypup the whole way there. Wanting and not wanting to share my knowledge of our shared experience having a parent with cancer, seeing as mine turned out so devastatingly. Hoping her story is brighter, preparing myself to be a pillar of empathy if it is not.

Taking hopefully our last trip in the Jetta as a family on the way to meet my sister to pick up her car (we are “car-sitting” while she is in Shanghai and lending the Jetta to friends). There is nothing like a car without AC to make you wish you had just stayed home, but getting out into the delicious bay air and promptly to a nearby playground went a long way toward erasing the painful memory of sweltering stop-and-go traffic. As did the sushi we inhaled for dinner before rochambeauing to see who got to drive two exhausted grumpy kids home in the old car and who got to zip off solo in the new car. I won the first round and we tied the next several rounds so I declared myself the winner in light of the increasing impatience to be on the road from the younger set, got only token protest from Thor, and enjoyed a blissful 45-minute silence only slightly tinged with unfamiliar car anxiety.

Monday’s Unphotographed Moments:

Turning on our solar system! Enjoying guilt-free AC, refrigeration, computing, and all the rest, not to mention the singular joy of charging the electric company for supplying them with power. Yes, friends, our meter is running backward.

Admittedly, we did photograph the inauguration of our solar system:








(Platypup assisted Thor in figuring out which switches needed turning when.)

Bile-inducing shock and disgust upon learning that some white members of my favorite online breastfeeding support group The Leaky Boob were bizarrely opposed to the first annual Black Breastfeeding Week. One member wrote an excellent rebuttal to their bigoted hate-explosion entitled “Dear White Women: Top Five Reasons Why We Need a Black Breastfeeding Week” which I encourage everyone to read.


Today’s one-shot photo:


The beginnings of our tomato deluge, accented by our ongoing cucumber onslaught.

Unphotographed Moments – Day Twenty-One

(This post is part of a series for August 2013 entitled “Unphotographed Moments.” Read the intro to the series here.)

Today’s Unphotographed Moments:

The best would-be photo by far today was me, dancing in a preschoolers’ ballet class. Technically this headlining affair was captured in the photos one of the other parents was taking. Fortunately I shall almost certainly never see them. Owlet was so, so excited about ballet — it was actually her idea, from seeing some of Swan Lake on youtube earlier this summer with Thor, and she chose leotards and tried on slippers yesterday at the dance store (man, is that stuff expensive!) with glee, but as soon as we arrived, her shyness devoured her enthusiasm and she didn’t want to go in without me. So I wrapped my embarrassment into a ball and pressed it tightly into the corner of my mind and danced like it was my dearest ambition. Fortunately it was a small class (supposed to be four kids but one was pretty upset about being there and didn’t come in, so it was just three, plus me of course) so my large limbs didn’t get in anyone’s way. Owlet mostly did not dance, at least, not the singing and hand gesturing parts of the class. She did, however, rock first position in a way that appeared to surprise the teacher, and put her adorably slipper-clad feet into a wide V shape every time we were supposed to. I wonder if she would do better in a class that did less stereotypically kid stuff and more “real” ballet, but suspect she will love it in a few weeks no matter what. At bedtime, unprompted, she said she really liked ballet class, and seems ok with the idea that I will (hopefully get to) sit down like the other parents next time instead of dancing along.

The real best photo today was Owlet in her ballet gear, of course, but we did actually photograph that:





(She picked out the leotard herself — isn’t the back lovely?)

Owlet putting a laundry basket on Thor’s head while he was trying to leave for work, then saying “goodbye, Basket Head!”

Having a stroke of brilliance to use my kid music rugs to each represent a measure to help a student count correctly by playing violin while walking on them.

Platypup singing! He has been leaning toward carrying a tune for awhile but today he came out with the “Peter” theme from Peter and the Wolf (I know, right?) and even mimicked “this is the way we wash our hands” after I had finished mopping him off post-taco.

Platypup studiously filing every single piece from Owlet’s puzzle into one rain boot.


Today’s one-shot photo:


Platypup’s bear, Cauliflower, whom he loves to “rockabye” whilst singing “rockabye your bear.”

Unphotographed Moments – Day Twenty

(This post is part of a series for August 2013 entitled “Unphotographed Moments.” Read the intro to the series here.)

Today’s Unphotographed Moment:

Today my heart is heavy with the memory of my friends’ son Caemon, who was diagnosed with leukemia one year ago today, shortly before his third birthday. There isn’t a photograph that could capture the aching sadness, the impotent anger, the sheer helplessness I feel at his loss, and it utterly eclipses whatever else may have occurred today.


Today’s one-shot photo:


Unphotographed Moments – Day Nineteen

(This post is part of a series for August 2013 entitled “Unphotographed Moments.” Read the intro to the series here.)

Today’s Unphotographed Moments:

Practicing my cello alone for only a few minutes before Owlet came in, requested her cello, and played along with me, matching bow rhythm approximately and even switching to pizzicato (plucking) when I did.

Platypup giving a mild cry upon waking and then nothing. I assumed he had gone back to sleep, but moments later heard him thumping down the hallway accompanied by mild fussing sounds. I told him we were in the living room, and he appeared in the doorway looking slightly bleary-eyed. This is the first time he has gotten himself up out of bed to come find us without having anyone in bed with him, and it was very sweet.

Laughing hysterically with Thor while attempting to follow along with a ballroom dancing DVD I got him for Christmas 3-4 years ago which was unopened until today. We are fair dancers, of this I am certain, so let’s just blame any failure which may have occurred on the video.


Today’s one-shot photo:


Owlet put all of the animals to bed before retiring herself.

Explaining Privilege (Unphotographed Moments – Days Sixteen, Seventeen, and Eighteen)

(This post is part of a series for August 2013 entitled “Unphotographed Moments.” Read the intro to the series here.)

I have been fixated upon privilege and discrimination for more than half my life. Lately, in the Zimmerman verdict’s aftermath, I have been disheartened by the deluge of evidence, ranging from reposted Facebook memes to articles that read (at first glance) as well-reasoned, that shows how little the concept of privilege is even addressed let alone understood in this country. To that end, this “weekend edition” of my unphotographed moments series will be devoted to tracking privilege. This is what it is like to live in my head, in my heart, in my privileged skin.

I will add that this is by no means an exhaustive list of the ways my privilege has influenced my experience of the past three days; that would be impossible.

Friday’s Unphotographed Moments:

This morning I was fortunate that I have a husband, that he did not have to work early in the morning, and that he was able and willing to wake up with our kids so I could sleep in. I rolled over onto my stomach, stretched my limbs out gratefully, and dozed off easily.

Today I was lucky to have a portion of my job (teaching my Little Uncaged Musicians classes) be one where my children are welcome so I don’t need to find childcare. I was fortunate to have one class member barter her clarinet abilities as well as her delicious cooking skills for participation in the class, another babysitting hours since my husband’s job and mine sometimes overlap and the rest of my lessons which are almost all not ones I can bring my kids to, and another dress up items for my little ones. These are all luxuries one would normally have to pay for, but I have the skills to teach a class that is worth something to these students’ parents. I have those skills because my parents valued early music education beginning with singing to me as a baby and piano lessons starting at age 3, because they supported my freedom to follow my interests both financially and emotionally, because their parenting style and the educational philosophy of my first school (a private Montessori school) encouraged creativity and problem-solving, because they funded much of my college tuition, and because while I still needed to find a part-time job to help support myself as a student I had an implicit safety net allowing me to take a risk like running my own home teaching studio. I likely have had a number of students over the years who chose me (or even who chose to learn one of the instruments I teach) because we shared a race, whether or not they were aware of it. I have certainly been able to attract more students by living in middle class neighborhoods, where I have never had to worry about racism preventing me from getting an apartment or house.

Today while I was piling children into the car a woman walking wearing earbuds stopped, paused her music, said hello, and then offered me a gallon of organic milk her departing houseguests were leaving behind. I was lucky to share her race or she might not have considered me a worthy recipient. If she had still offered, it might have felt uncomfortably condescending. Further, I was fortunate to not be in a state of poverty forced to choose between getting to work on time (i.e., leaving rather than waiting for her to go home and get it) and having free milk for my kids. I was also privileged to be able to decline gracefully, something that might have been less well-received had I been a POC and she still white.

Today I was privileged to have an electric car (or a car at all) in which to drive my children to Rapunzel’s house for babysitting (so lucky to have someone I trust utterly and completely with my kids) and then myself a half-hour north to teach a family of three students who otherwise might not have chosen to take lessons with me due to the driving time involved. I was lucky to have taken a good driver’s ed program offered in the summer at my high school, patient parents to take me out and a car in which to learn, rather than either me or my parents having work prevent me from attending, such that I eventually cultivated a calm and safe driving demeanor as well as a meditative approach to unexpected delays allowing me to worry very little about whether I might be late when navigating stop-and-go traffic as a result of an accident (5 min late, and I was lucky my students don’t mind just running five minutes over on the rare occasions when that happens). The meditative approach is from my gentle and introspective mother, my constantly-self-improving father, many many other people, and piles and piles of books I have been lucky to encounter. (Not to mention the literacy required to glean their wisdom.) Had I been involved in the accident, I of course would have automatic advantage over any POC involved, especially if the justice system were involved. And had their been no accident at all, I would’ve arrived a few minutes early to my lesson and sat in my parked car listening to the radio without “threatening” passersby in the process.

Tonight my husband put sound equipment away dressed all in black in a state park outdoor music venue without serious concern for his safety. No one thought he was stealing, or drug dealing, or even loitering. I know this without asking.

Tonight I was privileged to have the luxury of contacting my husband three different ways (phone message, text message, and email) to ask him to bring home an emergency pack of paper diapers because not only had I failed to do any laundry so we were out of cloth ones, but we had also run out of the disposables Owlet uses at night as well. I was privileged that he was in a car to make such a side trip easy and of course quite fortunate to live near a relatively safe fully-stocked grocery store open 24 hours. He was lucky to have on his pale skin and therefore not looked at askance for shopping at such a late hour, and dressed in black clothing to boot. I was lucky to have learned of E.C., had an easy time implementing it, and therefore was in a place to hope that our underwear-clad child wouldn’t soak the bed before diapers arrived (and, in fact, she got up to use the loo in the middle of the night and was dry in the morning for the first time in ages!) and that our little guy wouldn’t overflow his diaper before those reinforcements were here.

Tonight when I fall asleep I will not worry that my son could grow up to be Treyvon Martin.

Saturday’s Unphotographed Moments:

This morning I was fortunate that I have a husband, that he did not have to work early in the morning, and that he was able and willing to wake up with our kids so I could sleep in. I rolled over onto my stomach, stretched my limbs out gratefully, and dozed off easily.

Today I was privileged not to need to work. I have weekends entirely off most of the time.

Today I read a book to my daughter in which all three of the characters were white and neither of us noticed at the time. However, the characters were a family with two moms and a child, which did at some point drift to my attention.

Today my husband and daughter were able to go shopping as white people. That means no one looked at him with suspicion, no one tried to touch her adorable hair, and they were both surrounded at every moment with people who share their race. Furthermore, they are the same race, so no one wondered whether he might have kidnapped her. No one looked at his purchases for confirmation of stereotypes they might have about his race.

Tonight my daughter and I watched the first half of The Sound of Music (her first time!) and neither of us noticed at the time that all the actors were white and all the characters heterosexual.

Tonight my husband put sound equipment away dressed all in black in a state park outdoor music venue without serious concern for his safety. No one thought he was stealing, or drug dealing, or even loitering. I know this without asking.

Tonight when I fall asleep I will not worry that my son could grow up to be Treyvon Martin.

Sunday’s Unphotographed Moments:

Today I was privileged not to need to work. I have weekends entirely off most of the time.

This morning I got in my car (discussed at length above) and took my children out to breakfast with that disposable income I have where we ate in the company of our own race. The cashier gave Owlet a free bread turtle (for the second time in our two visits to this place); I wonder if he would have done the same for a POC. I hope so. I did not ever feel the behavior of my kids was interpreted by onlookers as a positive or negative reflection on my entire race.

After breakfast we drove to the Unitarians, arriving nearly an hour early to play at the little playground there. No one looked at us as interlopers or wondered to themselves if perhaps we were a homeless family because we were dressed well enough and white. We dropped Platypup off in the preschool room and finally (whew!) encountered our first POC of the day. Still, the congregation is very middle class white overall, and so I cringed a little to see that the topic of the service was racism.

As eager as I am for us privileged folks to do some serious talking on the subject, I am always a little squeamish for fear it might be bungled. It was not bungled, but the chosen method for topic introduction was to ask us to pair up sitting there in our pews and each tell a true story about a time we had been discriminated against. The man next to me relayed his experience having a disability and being bussed to a special school to the mockery of the neighborhood children.

My mind went completely blank. Having spent the past couple days hunting down my privilege with vigor, I was incapable of rewiring my brain in search of the opposite. I stuttered something out about having lived a very privileged life and being unable to think of a thing. He looked at me with unreadable eyes and soon the regular service order resumed.

It was three hours before I remembered a single experience of discrimination.

Tonight when I fall asleep I will not worry that my son could grow up to be Treyvon Martin.

That, my friends, is privilege.


Today’s one-shot photo:


The little rugs my Little Uncaged Musicians sit on in class.

Unphotographed Moments – Days Fourteen and Fifteen

(This post is part of a series for August 2013 entitled “Unphotographed Moments.” Read the intro to the series here.)

Yesterday’s Unphotographed Moments:

A friend who is moving away and I attempting to load some stuff she was passing along to me into my car… Accompanied by four small children. Fortunately on a cul-de-sac.

A motion-picture-perfect satiny black horse cantering across the rolling golden California hills on our drive to Napa.

Owlet pausing nursing (Say what? Never happens. Never. Girl loves her milk.) to inform me that I had just gotten a single word wrong in the song I was singing. I think I said “you’ll” instead of “we’ll” in the “Someday we’ll find it” portion of The Rainbow Connection. (As a music nerd and stickler for detail, this made me proud rather than irritated.)

Successfully jumping out at my friend Alice yelling “Surprise!” (Or perhaps it was “Aargh!” …I can’t remember) complete with balloons. Even better was the lovely Alice rockin’ the hell out of her steam punk crown, handmade by Rapunzel.

Today’s Unphotographed Moments:

Platypup likes things orderly. Shoes should either be on feet or in the closet. Books go on the bookshelf. That kind of thing. Well, today he found an empty milk carton on the kitchen table and kept insisting that it should go in the fridge. “But it’s empty,” I tried to reason, “so now it’s recycling.” Normally he thoroughly enjoys an opportunity to put something in the recycling bin, but he was not to be swayed. I am pretty sure we finally just left the room.

Platypup somehow managing to find an uncovered bowl of sugar (huh?) in a lower cabinet at the birth center during mommy group, spilling some on the floor before I whisked him and the bowl off to better — and separate — locations. Owlet then lying on the floor licking it up. (You know you are a laid back mom when…)

Owlet tucking herself in under a blanket on the futon to listen to Peter and the Wolf while Platypup finished dinner and I brought in laundry. A rare moment of peace in a frazzled day.


Today’s one-shot photo:


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