My work adventure this past week became a family affair. Our newest client had a big event which will occur in Brooklyn, NY on Tuesday and they needed 850 drawstring backpacks to be stuffed with a summer skills workbook, ruler and pencil. These backpacks had to be counted and sorted by grade level (as the workbooks varied,) and there were two sets of thirty backpacks that needed slightly different contents. Nearly everything needed to assemble the backpacks arrived on Friday. I did the setting up and called in my teenage boys to do most of the stuffing, which took them four and a half hours (with my support.) Then, because we finished too late to ship that night, they and Mr. Wortabulous took an hour of their Saturday morning to help me get nineteen boxes to the post office. Seventeen of those boxes weighed between 50-55 pounds each. The other two were a little lighter. We express shipped them all to arrive in Brooklyn on Monday. This impresses me so much. 900 pounds of stuff leaves a Minnesota post office on noon on Saturday and arrives intact at a Brooklyn school on Monday. Hopefully. Really, really hoping. Trying to let go.
In honor of Father’s Day I would like to thank Mr. Wordtabulous for being a great dad and husband. He discovered a small rabbit lurking in our strawberry bed today and called out our older son (who loves animals devotedly and had told us he had seen a bunny in the yard earlier; since he rarely speaks in sentences, at least to us, this was notable.) Older son came out and the two of them captured the rabbit. Before the little fuzzball managed to scramble away, there was a bit of bonding going on in the garden.
Finally, I was in the car listening to Minnesota Public Radio on Tuesday when I heard that Ray Bradbury died. I read my favorite of his, Something Wicked This Way Comes, for the third time recently so in honor of the man I read my friend Kelly’s fave, The Illustrated Man. In the introduction, Bradbury writes: What I am trying to say is that the creative process is much like the old-fashioned way of taking photos with a huge camera and you horsing around under a black cloth seeking pictures in the dark. The subjects might not have stood still. There might have been too much light. Or not enough. One can only fumble, but fumble quickly, hoping for a developed snap…My tunes and numbers are here. They have filled my years, the years when I refused to die. And in order to do that I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, at noon or 3:00 a.m. So as not to be dead. Here’s to you Ray Bradbury, and your legacy which will endure.
I saw the movie Something Wicked This Way Comes and loved it immediately. The library book club I am in is going to read it this fall, and I can’t wait. I’ve tried to start it a number of times and have never finished it. (The shame, the shame.)
Backpackalooza. That is awesome.
The second time I read Something Wicked I was pre-reading it, intending to recommend it to my younger son who was showing interest in Stephen King, but I thought he was a little young for some of King’s more adult moments. I wasn’t even a chapter into it when I had to admit Bradbury is a slower, heavier hand with the words. It is kind of like exploring a planet with a heavier gravity and thicker atmosphere. I recommend taking it slowly, and highlighting those breathtaking sentences that make you stop and say, “Oh. That is so apt.” My son and I mutually decided he wasn’t ready for Ray, but I enjoyed re-reading it, and promise if you hang in there you will be seduced.
I have added The Gods of Gotham to my (very long) to-read list based on your recommendation and your funny post! Thanks for commenting (especially the Backpackalooza comment!)
Oh, yes, I recognize that absence of sentences from teenage boys well. 🙂