The Girl Who Learned To Kneel

I had a performance, a rendering, (a clown interpretation is also a possibility) Saturday night, which made Sunday particularly relaxing. The day after a show always feels so delicious because gone is that rumbly feeling in the gut. Lunch was also particularly chilled because it was at my adopted (not officially) sister’s new house. Heather, a professional designer by trade, uses a lot of white in her decorating, so it kind of felt like we were eating in Zion (Um…that’s a synonym for Heaven. Maybe you knew that. I didn’t, but find it to be a rather energetic word and intend to use it often from now on!). Plus the chicken dish was accompanied by an olive and prune sauce—an exquisite combination. So not only were we surrounded by heavenly rugs and ornaments, we were eating divine provender (Um…that’s a synonym for food. But I’m guessing you figured that out. Should I stop with the thesaurus? Can’t. Sorry.)

This would be my mother who I don’t photograph enough. Maybe because I don’t walk her around in a stroller on a daily basis.

These would be my new fourteen dollar sunglasses. All of a sudden I feel all fresh and youthful. Elsie also feels fresh and youthful. So spry in fact, she might just rip the arms of those glasses right off and turn them into chopsticks. Oh, you.

This would be my sister Natalie wearing her hot-to-trot yellow shirt purchased on a LA excursion cozying up to a most excellent fan. Not that a fan is worth talking about next to my sister. But it is a good fan. And I think my sister would agree.

This would be Elsie practicing her balance on Heather’s kitchen floor. Guess what? She took her first step on August 29, 2009. I could just say ‘Saturday,’ but I need to impress August 29, 2009 on my fragile mind, so when she asks me in twenty years when she took her first step, I will be able to say with certainty: “August 29, 2009, my darling Lamb chop.” It will be a glorious moment. Me proving my motherly devotion through the memorization of her milestones.

Or I might just write it down in my ‘Angel bambi’ notebook. ‘Cause I have one. And it would probably be less stressful. The power of memory is overrated.

This would be Grandpa, another member of Elsie’s community. Next to Simon, Grandpa is Elsie’s best bet for undivided attention. As such, he has secured a tidy place in her heart.

And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, would be another Sunday in photos.

Zion. Provender. Zion. Zion. Your turn.