fool proof?

One of the gifts we received when Max was born is a hand/foot print frame thingy, in which you are supposed to be able to make 3-D prints of your baby's feet and hands. It looked complicated and messy and I haven't mustered the energy to open it until today.

It was raining this afternoon (all day, in fact) and I finally pulled the gift down and opened it up. In the midst of sachets of clay and jell and instructions in twenty different languages, my eyes fell to the front cover of one of the booklets. I laughed in disbelief. A hand giving a thumbs up, with the phrase "100% failure proof."

Absolutely. One hundred percent. They can guarantee it. Even an idiot cannot fail! There is something disturbing and refreshing about it. I can't put my finger on it, but it appealed to me and at the same time disgusted me. How many things in life are 100 percent failure proof? Can't think of many. Or any?

We'll see how the footprints turn out.


Restless nights full of dark, violent dreams. Easily shaken off in the morning, but they come scraping and hobbling back. They catch me in the shadowed places between the streetlights, where the trees grow so tightly together they form a wall of branches and trunks. I can't help but look backwards over my shoulder as I walk, thinking of how I would protect my child from harm. Shake my head. Stop. Stupid overactive imagination.



Sweet (and good) things of summer:
Blueberry icecream.
Watching Max pull hair.
Wonderful friends visiting.
Belly laughs.
Honest conversation.
Painting doors and windows red.
Summer cuddles with Max.
My first medium-rare burger.
Visiting two of Sweden's archipelagos.
Strawberries, milk, and coffee.
Beach sand like icing sugar between toes.
Takeaway Thai on a balcony overlooking the Baltic sea at sunset.
"Homemade" strawberry rhubarb icecream.
Road trips with Martin and Max. East coast, west coast, three different islands.
Babies in their diapers.
Sweltering hot summer days.
Two non-swimmers (one Canadian and one Swedish) taking an evening dip in the lake.
Spending time with family.
Suntanning on the rocky shores of the west coast.
Continued learnings on the charcoal grill.
Completing projects around the house.
Martin, the "waspbuster", protecting his wife and son.
Spending time with Martin's parents.
Discovered places: old coffee houses, historical farms, tiny B&Bs and a beautiful gardens tucked away in a small island village.
Friend's handmade gifts: beautiful, sweet things for Max.
The (sometimes surprising) thoughtfulness of people on my birthday.
Strawberry torte on my 28th birthday -- layered shortcake with whipped cream, vanilla custard, and loaded with locally grown strawberries.