If we had started the family sooner, we would now have (have? enjoy? have) more weekends as quiet as this past one was. Without its boys, this household is quiet � so quiet that I was able to tap out the Friday entry with little but the clutter of my own mind to distract me. Josh is away at school (all of eight blocks away, but out of the house nonetheless) and the O and the T spent Friday night at sleepovers at the homes of neighborhood buddies, although little sleeping occurs at those outings, I suspect.

When he returned the next morning, Owen had to prepare (shower, comb, anoint, sniff favored T-shirts, anoint again) for an all-day birthday party for a classmate he has known since kindergarten: bowling, dinner and a movie (both out), and the time-honored basement shuffle-and-bump session at the home of the honoree.

Because Owen was unavailable, Taylor shanghaied a neighborhood kid, and the three of us boarded the mighty Metro for a trip to prosaically-named Cico Park (a city-county-school district partnership) where Taylor and his bud could train for the Olympics in the school district's football and track complex. T has followed the broadcasts of the Olympic games since the opening night, and he checks the web site several times a day to keep up with the medal count and other bits of news that make a fourth grader useful around the water cooler during recesses from the multiplication tables.

When he is not involved as a spectator, he trains. After the opening ceremonies, he turned his bed into a high jump pit by tacking the end of a rope into his bulletin board and attaching the other end to a chair. He maintains that with the addition of some water to a raised flower bed, our back yard would make a wonderful steeplechase course. We'll see.

When we arrived at the stadium, I walked my daily two miles around the track, while they took some leaps in the long jump pit, a run up and down the stadium stairs, and a few laps around the track before returning to the long jump area (now a sand box) where they built an elaborate array of tunnels, bridges, and fortifications which they would later leap on and destroy. So much for competitive drive.

When we returned from the stadium, we fixed the luncheon of champions � peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches garnished with potato chips mooshed right into the goo. Afterward, T disappeared into the cave to watch the Olympic games, his buddy went home, and I snuck upstairs to watch the KSU-Colorado game until the time came for the neighborhood potluck in Martha's yard.

Although there are many warm days left in this season, this weekend potluck was probably the final outdoor neighborhood gathering until next spring. We will next convene indoors for a cookie exchange during the week before Christmas, which is coming far too quickly this year.

* * *

I had thought to violate a copyright in this entry by posting a pair of photographs owned by the news agencies. I would have juxtaposed two photos, one from last week, the other from the sixties. The recent photo pictures crowds of young folks protesting in Prague at the meetings of the IMF and World Bank. In the photo, a young woman rises head and shoulders above the surrounding crowd as she declaims against some public evil, her arm raised and her mouth pear-shaped as she shouts off to stage right. A picture like it appears every year, or at least in every generation.

I kept a copy of one such picture that appeared in the sixties � a young French woman in the same pose during the Paris protests � but, alas, I couldn't locate it. I can't decide whether or not it's a good thing that such protests continue to occur, but I'm betting it's a good thing. We ain't ever going to get it right, but I am grateful for the continued presence of those who think we should.

Reading:
Student work.

Weathering:
Cool, bright, open-window weather.

Watching:
The KSU-Colorado game on Saturday (44-21) and some of the Olympic games with Taylor.