Flying

I never had any indication that our windmill was unhappy with us. How could I have known such a thing? But apparently it yearned for greener pastures and in the big windstorm this past week, with its blades spinning furiously, it levitated off the ground and flew over the fence and into the greener pasture it was looking for--the horse pasture. I didn't see it, but our friends who were working on the concrete dove for the ground in case the helicopter/windmill flew their way.

And speaking of flying, my boy is coming home! While we sleep tonight, Bruder's plane will be roaring over the ocean, bringing him back to the United States.

In his absence, we painted his room, hung trim, installed blinds, and made what I think is a pretty darn cool guitar display. When Lucy saw it she said, "I feel like I've stepped into a Pottery Barn Teen catalogue." Rose was speechless and Cholita just said, "Awesome." Let's hope Bruder likes it too. Since the windmill flew the coop, I've had a bit of a complex.

P.S. Cholita is obsessed with the hanging guitars. She asked if she could touch them and I told her in no uncertain terms that she could not. "I can touch the red though, right? The paint's dry, so I can touch the red." I couldn't necessarily argue. "Yes, it's dry. I guess you can touch the red." So she touched the red rectangle, but I knew her fingers were hungry. Then she pulled an age-old trick. "Mom, look over there." And being gullible, I fell for it. "What?" I asked turning toward the bunkbed. "Oh, nothing." I looked back and she was innocently stroking the red paint, but I know better. That little stinker touched the guitar.