Less Than Perfect

I have lived in the same place for a little over 8 years now and have become strange friends with an unlikely candidate.  A tree.  A dead tree.  She has been dead ever since I knew her.  She used to have a friend, also dead, but years ago the friend fell down and rotted into the fertile soil beneath. I don't know that I can explain my love of this tree.  I liked how she stood there, strong and defiant.  An old, apparently useless thing; she dared me to love her beauty, to accept her just as she was.  And I did.  Any time I drove back and forth to town, my eyes would light on what I came to think of as my tree.  Just a moment, a brief nod to this steadfast friend.  Part of me always wondering if this would be the time that she would be gone, blown over by the wind or simply having given up and fallen down, roots flailing in the air as sometimes happens. Recently, construction started in the field nearby and I knew this was my cue.  I pulled my car to the side of the road one sun

I am aware that The Munchkin gets much less attention than her sister did in terms of documenting her life.  I'm trying, but a second child adds something like 4 children worth of activities.  Here are a few things she says (or said recently): 1.  When she saw a photo of herself recently, she would point to herself in the picture and say, "my you".  Of course we would confirm, yes, that is you.  Now she calls the photo by her own name. 2.  How she came to know of them I don't know, but she is afraid of "monkers" (or monsters) and "gose" (or ghosts).  She is convinced that the light that shines on her ceiling from her nightlight is a ghost (but doesn't want to get rid of said light). 3.  In the path of her older sister, she can make a verb of any noun by adding "ing".  She said, "It's darking" instead of "it's getting dark" the other day. 4.  When she wants something, she will say, "I WHANT it&q