Comfort and Joy

Scott's sourdough bread turned out wonderful. He's into www.allrecipes.com and may never own another cook book. And he cleans up the kitchen, too. I think one year of residence at university may be enough for him. I could see him getting an apartment with some of his other cooking buddies. Applications for his future school are in the works. I'm invited to help decorate the grad dinner, so it's starting to feel real.
And my trip to Mexico, starting tomorrow, is starting to feel real, too. I painted my toenails which makes me so very pleased. I slathered on the fake tan lotion, made my lists, and packed my bathing suits and straw hat.

D and I are leaving the progeny to themselves. There is lots of food in the house, but I won't promise they won't eat each other. My MIL wants custody. I had to fight hard to point out that they are 18 and 16 and can cook and clean, walk and drive.

I feel strongly (about so many things, you know) that as a parent, my job is to help them become good adults and give them lots of opportunities to make mistakes in a safe setting. The needy, whiny, princess thing needs no encouragement. It's a lot harder to ask them how they are going to solve their own problems.

I am taking the biggest, oldest UFO with me. And no emergency knitting. Nothing to turn to instead. This project has travelled everywhere with me and just been neglected. The frequent flyer miles alone could buy more wool. Maybe I'll finish it this time to wear to Scotland in August. That was the plan for Glasgow 2003. Isn't that pathetic? How many shawls have I knit since then? Nine? At least. Poor thing is blue. I'll try to cheer it up this week in Ixtapa.