Sunny licks the beater:
Abby and Entropy lick the beater:
Sunny and Abby lick the beater:
Entropy licks Abby:
I like black. It’s easy, “slimming”, hides the dirt. Dave gives me a hard time about my “goth” wardrobe.
Today while I was folding clothes, putting my black clothes into one pile, and my very practical, white undergarments into another, I commented: “hey, look, my underwear is white”.
Dave’s response: “That’s the one thing I would like to be black”.
I am going to write a book. The hero will be homely, scrawny, and socially awkward. The heroine will be rather dumpy, with lackluster hair, huge feet and a shrill voice. No one will fall in love at first sight. No one will have any great family secrets to get past. There will be no saving of some little known jungle tribe, whom without intervention would have their habitat destroyed by evil condo developers. And I PROMISE, there will be no “her heart nearly burst, his world stopped spinning, as their passion took them to heights they had never dreamed possible”, sex scenes.
I finished the book I was listening to. Finally. It was horrid. Now I can move forward.
I love to read, and when I can’t read, I listen to books. This allows me to feed my book addiction while doing dishes, laundry, baking, cleaning.
I can’t not finish a book. Even if it is terrible. And the book I am listening to right now, as I write this, is truly dreadful.
Not only is the writing trite, the narrator is ridiculous. His vocal interpretation of the characters goes beyond absurd.
Can I really endure 10 more hours of this? If I do, is it self-abuse?
This morning I found myself lost in thought as I ran. This happens a lot. It is wonderful, as getting lost in my head helps me forget about the pain in my knees.
Today I started thinking about all the love in my life. I love a lot. I use the word love freely, and I mean it. I have been blessed with so much, so many, to love. I thought about all the different people I love. I thought about the different types of love.
I love my friends. I love them with the freedom that comes from not having to live with them. This love sounds silly, but it is true. I love my friends, and because I am not with them all the time, things that might drive me nuts, don’t. This love is comfortable. This love is joyful. This love is fun.
I love my siblings. I love them with a loyalty that defies reason. This love comes from a lifetime of shared memories, common experiences. This love is easy. This love I take for granted, I know that.
I love my parents. I really love my parents. I love them with a child’s love, even now, at 36. I still want, and strive for, their approval. This love is a grateful love. This love breaks my heart as I watch them age, become frail somehow. This love does not want to accept that someday they will not be there for me to tell them how much I love them. This love always has been, always will be.
I love my husband. I chose this love many years ago. I choose this love everyday. This love makes my pulse race. This is a love of willing compromise. This love is layered: emotional, physical, spiritual. This love changes, ebbs and flows, runs deep and quiet: sometimes, rages like a storm: sometimes. This is a great love.
I love my children. I love them with impossible, truly frightening intensity. This love protects. This love is tender. This love is primal. This is a mother’s love.
I love my Lord. This is a hard love for me. This love I strive to articulate, understand, accept. I am unworthy to even claim this love. This love humbles me. This love has saved me.
to make this blog more than pictures and a bland recounting of my life.
I read the blogs of others, people I know, and blogs I stumble upon, and am humbled by the depth of their musings and the strength of their writing.
Reading how daily life impacts others, how the mundane is so not, this moves me. It is reassuring to find that other people are also struck with the enormity of their responsibilities, while doing dishes.
The pain and joy that is shared across the world, the triumphs and failures, this is treasure unburied. Boundless riches, I believe this, are laid out in the pages we view on our screens. The courage and knowledge of others, is right there. What a gift.
So, my hope is, somehow, someday, something I say will challenge, encourage or inspire.
In the meantime….