I've been busy traveling, and cooking and cleaning, and playing, and reading (my goodness, the piles of books I have around here).  

Rick and the boys are busy tonight building a giant fort and looking at maps of the country-- pointing out the various landmarks.  I should be packing for my trip tomorrow, but thought I'd take a minute to write before I go upstairs.  

My entire body is sore sore sore.  I impulsively decided to go to a boot camp class when I got to the gym yesterday morning, and after several weeks of not really working out, it was just about the rudest awakening I've ever had.  I have no doubt that going to that class a few times a week would really do wonders for me, but right now when every movement I make hurts, I have a hard time wanting to do it again.  But I love a good challenge, and I think this might be my next undertaking (so expect complaining from me in the future).  

Mason has just handed me the Little Bird's ABC book, and I must go and read it to him.

Here is a poem from some of my recent reading.  I hope you enjoy it.  

Love,

Jane

Metaphor

 The spirit
likes to dress up like this:
ten fingers,
ten toes,

shoulders, and all the rest
at night
in the black branches,
in the morning

in the blue branches
of the world.
It could float, of course,
but would rather

plumb rough matter.
Airy and shapeless thing,
it needs
the metaphor of the body,

lime and appetite,
the oceanic fluids;
it needs the body's world,
instinct

and imagination
and the dark hug of time,
sweetness
and tangibility,

to be understood,
to be more than pure light
that burns
where no one is --

so it enters us --
in the morning
shines from brute comfort
like a stitch of lightning;

and at night
lights up the deep and wondrous
drownings of the body
like a star. 
~ Mary Oliver