Silencing the Dictator

Although I often end up feeling like stretched-out elastic while living between two lifestyles, sometimes it’s also pretty awesome therapy to be a self-induced schizophrenic. Just when the paint cans start to take the upper hand, I can snub them, go on strike at the lake, and stir some other people and activities into the proverbial pot.

Caleb and Jordan (and their mom, our daughter Emily) are here in Michigan with us. Fritz jr. and Riley will join us later tonight. The focus today, while it rained, involved engineering and building super-creative Lego space ships complete with sizzling flame-throwers, dangerous-looking missiles with grenade-laden tips, rotating lazar guns, and little spacemen sitting before keyboards and control panels (or manning ready-for-takeoff, ammunition-loaded pods). I especially loved the space-style foghorns that, in my opinion, unfortunately missed their true calling and belonged aboard steamships on the Mississippi River.

It’s hard to think about painting in this environment.

Tomorrow we plan to visit Warren Dunes on the shores of Lake Michigan where the kid-energy can spill out on those big hills of sand. If it should rain again, we can optionally visit the Curious Kid’s Museum (a hands-on exploratory place) in St. Joseph.

Saturday we hope to see 75-year-old Seth Geim’s 3,000 sq. ft. layouts of model trains (the “Train Barn”) in Portage. He’s spent the last 50 years of his life building intricate and accurate-to-scale gorges, bridges, towns, waterfalls, and other displays in his barn, and then weaving train tracks throughout. After allowing public access for decades, evidently he’s closing his doors in July.

Other alternative activities could include swimming from the boat OUT DEEP (for some reason THAT water is a greater attraction than what’s right out in front of the house), popping pioneer popcorn over an open fire in a mesh basket, and fishing for whatever might be naïve enough to be caught by inexperienced fisher-kids.

Meanwhile, back in that other life, a half-used paint can in our Buck Creek bedroom calls to me with its demanding and insulting voice - but I can only barely hear it: “Never did have much use for folks who leave a job half-done.”

Pshaw. In rebuttal, I stand and shake my fist in the air. “Silence! One more word and I’ll shoot you with my Lego gun!” There. That should do it.