So there are the kind of parents who never embarrass their kids. The kind who have matching shoes and socks, who don't ask their friends awkward questions (like, "Hi, how are you?"), the kind who don't ever burst into song in the aisles at Trader Joe's and do a little shuffle shuffle, hip thrust right by the nuts and dried fruit, and the kind who do not stop by tree trimmer's trucks every single time they see them and ask for a truckload of mulch to be dumped in their yards.

These parents probably only exist in fiction. I remember being horribly embarrassed by my father, but then so was my mother, so it probably wasn't just teen-hood. I don't think I cross the line, even with tree trimmers, because I never tell them they have to go to college and make something of themselves, nor do I hold up my children as examples, negative or positive, to the tree trimmers.

After months, literally months of talking to random tree guys on the street, today as I biked the little ones to swim lessons (almost done! Thing 4 puts her head under water now!) I stopped yet again. I am nothing if not persistent in my optimism -- someone's going to bring me free mulch someday -- and I chatted them up a bit and asked if they'd dump a whole load into my driveway. As I pedaled away, I called out my address one more time.

And then I forgot about it. I've made a new friend family at swim lessons, so I chatted with the husband (the wife was taking her lactation consultant board exam -- so cool) and got a lovely surprise when I came home. Here's the view from my front room:


The only down side I can begin to think of is the effort it's going to take to finish weeding and raking the back yard before moving it, wheelbarrow load by load. But hey, what else would I do with my time?

One thing I'm not going to do is spin more bamboo. Why? Because, after spending months worrying about ruining some beautiful roving, making half-hearted attempt after another, last night I just sat down with the rest of it and spun. I didn't worry about doing it perfectly, but I didn't give up either. Just spun and spun. And when I was done? I plied it up with the rest of the dark brown merino to get this:



Only 88 yards were in the other skein -- it seemed like longer when I was spinning, but interestingly enough, last night's was spun in a different spirit and it went faster and easier. Lessons there, of course. Lessons everywhere, darn it all. Whether or not I have enough for a scarf or not.