We live in a great city. A city of art and multiculturalism and many opportunities for adventure.
We also live in a city with a restaurant dedicated almost entirely to fair food, so when your stomach cries out for a giant fried pickle, you can head to Palookaville.
The day started out innocently enough. I made breakfast, ran laundry, and paid a few bills then Emmaline and I hopped in the car to go to the post office.
You have to pass the music store to get to the post office. Well, I guess you don’t have to, but given the choice, wouldn’t everyone prefer to gaze through the windows of the music store? To drool over the glistening drum sets, trumpets, and banjos?
Sometimes, one just calls your name. She picked out a beaut!
Emmaline spent Labor Day laboring at things she loves.
I admire her patience with music. More than anyone else in our little family, she is willing to work on a single measure over and over (and over and over) until it’s just right.
Earlier this week, the kids and I took Aunt Grits home to Pensacola and decided to stay for a couple of days. We’re more mountain people than beach people, but my cousins make such great hosts that we could easily be persuaded to move right in.
Of course there are sandcastle photos and the kids posing with tacky pirates while we have dinner on a pier, but this… THIS… is something I’d never seen before.