Last night about dusk, I was standing on my patio surveying my plants.  The hummingbird zoomed right up to within three feet of me, and buzzed around while I stared.  I greeted her and she zig-zagged off to perch on a high, orange huckleberry flower, almost lost against the deep blue sky.

The boys came over at 3 pm, already imbued with the desire to "make a tazer."  "In 3-D," amended Auggie, just in case I thought I would get off just making a drawing. I made a luger-type gun before for Anders--we called it the Anders Repeater, and it even had a place for a magazine in the handle (where do I get these skills??)  I have to cut the weapons out of cardboard (four sides--two for each one) and it's pretty hard on the hands.  Sigh.

We wrap them up in Gorilla tape and it makes a nice sturdy, shiny weapon.  I know. I know.  Why do I have to encourage these boys in this deadly pursuit? 

Since Anders has been complaining of being bored, I thought up the idea of making a Bored Box.  I had him think up activities and write them on index cards, folded over.  Then when he's bored, he can pull one out and perform the activity.  We wrote down, Read a Book, Build Something with Nails, Make a Skeleton.  Jump off the third stair five times.  Write a 3-page book.  He got excited about the idea and was concerned that he might get bored at his house and not have the box at hand.  I said he could call me.  I'd pull a card for him. 

If only  Chloe were not such a tomboy, I might be able to make dolls instead of guns.  Actually, I'd like to try  my hand at making some rustic, potent, bead be-decked African-like dolls--like the ones I saw at the de Young Museum last Sunday.  Something dark, worn, powerful and mysterious.  Just for myself.