I'm stepping back in time, to a day where we didn't have to scrape the frost off the INSIDE of our car.
Friday I was asked to help with Jakob's class for the afternoon. Scientist Linda was coming in to talk to the kids about animal coverings and adaptation, bringing lots of samples and rumour had it, something ALIVE (hermit crabs: one social, one reclusive). As I led my little group of 4 children through the exercises and assignments and experiments, I realized that I could never be a teacher of small children because I could never promise to NOT TALK TO THE CHILDREN IN MY ANGRY MOMMY VOICE or swear a few times for good measure. As one little boy came very close to finding out.
After we returned home from school, I had little time to feed Satch and Jakob dinner before Satchel and I had our very first guitar lesson.
By the time the hour was over (6 chords, 2 simple songs later) I thought I would weep openly from the pain of having steel strings carve away at my finger tips.
But it was so much fun. Over the weekend I would sneak away and try to practice without Satchel knowing because he is totally going to blow me away with this.
The big difference I notice between an 11 year old brain and a 43 year old brain is... that I retain NOTHING. The guitar teacher used EVERY AGE DOES GET BETTER EVENTUALLY to represent the strings. I kept forgetting.
So Louis, by the way? It doesn't.
A 1951 Vagabond Trailer in Joshua Tree — House Tour
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