I have 240 straws to cut before eight small people come over to make geodesic domes. I’m a couple thousand of words behind on my writing project. Someone cut his own bangs the other day. And we are still recovering from a week of  guests. Still when I came down stairs this morning I was greeted by this.



I live in a house of boys. Where life is about forts and firefighters, building plans and painting. Where Papa and son sometime loose themselves in a story but more often the kitchen or the climbing tree outside the front door. The other afternoon I fell asleep while Alder was watching a movie, I woke up in the dark and walked down stairs, there was pasta being cut and sauce cooking. So yeah even if we struggle, and worry about the bigger picture right now is pretty damn awesome.