Digging in the Dirt

Last Saturday morning, during the North Avenue Tomato Fest, we had breakfast with Lisa and Stephanie, two of my classmates from graduate school at Emerson. Afterwards, the rest of the family went to Dozer Day out in Sussex while I polished off the last 100 pages or so of 2666...

The Gates of Heaven, as imagined by three-year-olds.

Sam wants to ride on THAT one.

In the cab of the day's first dozer.

Bad Muthatrucka #2.

Sam in the bucket #1.

Toddler turn-taking, as moderated by Grandma Cathy.

Sam in the bucket #2.

The pre-Raphelite map of the universe.

The excavator, or as its known around our house: "Digger! Big one!"

There are highly paid supermodels who don't pout this well.

Caleb at the switch.

Returning triumphant.

As a friend of mine puts it, everything looks like a hammer when you're feeling like a nail.

"You're gonna want to speak with the supervisor. We're on a union-mandated break, and I don't know nothing about no permits."

Sam scales the fire truck.

Caleb in the regalia.

There’s a fireman’s wedding tonight in the Cloverland Dell / There’s a hook and a ladder and we’ll dance 'neath a big paper bell / And everyone will be there / And we’ll all wish them well / As if all news will be good news from now on. (Joe Henry, "Fireman's Wedding")

Dance all night to this deejay.

At the Lakefront Kite Festival on Sunday morning.

Caleb.

Rehearsing their syncronized swim act (Chicago Olympics, 2016) in the pool at Granny & Poppa's house.