It's 2nd grade for Will


May he be greeted warmly by old friends while being nice to the new kids. May the new teacher see the good and sweetness inside all the kids as they take over her classroom (13 boys in that class! 13 boys!) May he learn and grow and eat that lunch that I packed with care frantically this morning with no doubt that 90 percent will end up in the trash. May he be awesome!

And 4K for Joseph


May the teachers appreciate your creativity and imagination while dealing with a rather wide stubborn streak. May you make new friends as you run in and out of the tunnels on the playground. May you say please and thank you and act like you were not raised by wolves. Look out St. Rose, Joseph has arrived.


Root for the home team

Rain threatened to shorten the game but quickly passed.

Joseph's favorite part was the popcorn. Game, what game? I've got popcorn.

Our Birmingham Barons are back home. Since 1987, they had been playing in the suburb of Hoover but deals were made, hands were shaken and the boys are back in town for the 2013 season. The new field is nice, very nice. And much closer to home. Close enough to hear the end-of-game fireworks but unfortunately, can't see them for the trees. 

Our neighbor across the street organized a night for all of us to go (What, you don't go places with your neighbors? Your neighbors are just not as fun as mine! More evidence here and here). Chris was ill and had to miss the game. Joseph was only interested in running up and down the stands. Since I was with my village, I was able to leave Will there to actually enjoy the game when it was clear Joseph was ready to leave. 

The best part of the whole entire night? Golf carts! Parking is hard to come by close to the field so some smartie came up with the idea to roam the surrounding streets on golf carts picking folks up for tips. Help me get my two kids to the game as they whine pick me up? Yes please! Deliver me right to my door in the dark? Yes indeed. That was worth a big tip.

Go Barons! Welcome home!


God of Fire

Summer holds a few traditions for us. One of those is we go to Memphis. Then Memphis, in the form of Nana, comes to us. After all these years of visits, some how Nana (who I do claim as my mother) has never been up close and personal with our naked statue. That would be Vulcan. As landmarks go, you really can't go wrong with a naked statue.

We took Mom to visit Vulcan yesterday. At 56-feet tall, he is the world's largest cast-iron statue. Our god of fire was commissioned for the 1904 World's Fair to show off the magic happening then in Birmingham (the magic being we were really good at digging money, i.e. iron ore, out of the ground). Now after a long and colorful life, he towers over the city atop Red Mountain as we go about our daily errands and is what welcomes us home after any journey away. He moons the folks that have moved into the suburbs or as we call it, live "over the mountain."

A regional map at the base of Vulcan shows were the various iron ore producers were once located. Joseph's right foot is actually pointing to just about where Chris and I lived when we first moved to town. We had a lovely third floor loft with an awesome roof-top deck. Very pre-kids!