Middle space

It's one of those regular days, not newsworthy at all, but beautifully average. I have time to write, but have nothing important to say. Nadav and I took a long walk across the rough parts of the fields this morning -- too late to be cool, but blissfully cloudy. We ended up deciding to cut back through "town," then found the entry blocked by a huge pile of crumbly dirt someone had dumped there to keep the ATVs out of the residential neighborhoods, probably. I had clambered to the top and was checking out the descent when he observed, "It's poo!" Indeed, it was not dirt but cow manure. Dried, at least. We washed our shoes when we got home. See? Fascinating. That's the kind of great story you have from a day like today.

It was another morning that Talia remembered (as she always does) that I promised the night before to make "pipicks" (pancakes). As we had only a few minutes to spare before it was time for the girls to go to their in-home preschool, she had to settle for measuring the dry ingredients, with a promise we'd finish them this afternoon. Noa, for her part, now considers herself the baking veteran since the other day when the three of us made Aggression Cookies on the floor (the kind you mix with your hands). Now she pulls out the same hot-pink bowl I'd given her that day and announces, "No-wa! No-wa! Pa-pick!" and then proceeds to surreptitiously scoop flour from the canister all over the floor, which really needs to be cleaned up right away because it's Ant Season here in the boonies.

My finger, although now slightly green and purple, isn't broken after all. Three days ago I was overly mad at a small gnat and instead of swatting it with a towel, smashed my middle-finger knuckle into the countertop. (Or maybe I did kill the gnat; I didn't really care after that.) Anyway, the finger is nice and bendy again.

It's mid-June, time is flying, yet the end of the year isn't here yet. For kicks I looked up some more home listings on Redfin in the Chicago suburbs. It doesn't really matter. Too early to care; we're not going back till October. No pressure, although I can catch the early whiffs of when it will start to matter and life will start cranking up its pace again...hurling us toward reentry into...what?

I don't really want to think about it. Across the valley, up on a hill, the girls are sleeping in their little nests. Nadav is having coffee with his best friend. I have work to do but it isn't urgent. My only goal is to avoid getting sucked into the Internet for half the day.

Time to check the laundry. Life in the middle space is very good.