State of Obvious

These days I don't feel much like writing.  Which is sort of a lot alarming since it's how I plan to make my living when I'm all done with school.  I mean, what is that?  It's silly, that's what it is.  Did I run out of things to say?  My husband probably would answer that question with a firm NO.  Maybe I have too much to say, but I can't or shouldn't or won't.  So I read this really funny (though a little swear word heavy) book review after our cousin linked it up on facebook.  The thing that made it really funny was the gifs.  Now, I'd link this review but it's not really appopriate for polite company and we're just going to pretend you're all polite.  Sorry.  To make up for it, I'm going to shamelessly steal the gimmick and use it here to update you on all the (you almost care about them) important events of my life from the last couple of months that I haven't been writing about.  First I was having a great summer, and I

I sometimes wonder what my children will remember when they get old, like me.  Because 35 is just so, so ancient.  You know, compared to 34.  Or 30.  It's kind of a shock, actually, but I'm off track. I used to think I would remember so many things.  The color of my favorite dress, perhaps.  The deserty smell of Tucson (not to be confused with the desserty smell of Thanksgiving pie).  The names of my very best (for the moment) friends.  The little moments of childhood that seemed so large and important. But I don't remember much of it at all.  Little glimpses of the past, so tiny they often feel unreal.  In fact, I don't really even remember the early days of motherhood - Josh's first laugh, for example.  So important at the time, and now lost in the dusty folds of memory.  I remember moments, tiny little moments, and not much else.  I remember feelings, but mostly those feelings are overtaken by the feelings of today.  Regret for my actions.  Wonder.  Amusement

So. Hi. Yep, still here.  Sort of.  Have you ever had one of those stretches of time where it just all blends into a stream of colors, and you aren't even really sure what you've been doing?  Something like sitting on a merry-go-round and watching the trees turn into streaks of brown and green.  That's my summer. Except, don't forget the part where the merry-go-round comes unhinged and goes bouncing across the lawn while everyone screams.  And when it comes to rest, you stand up and wobble around for a minute before you run over to a bush and ... well, let's not talk about it. I've come to a realization.  Nothing happens the easy way.  Nothing happens while you're just sitting around watching TV.  Nobody rings your doorbell and gives you a thousand-million-trillion dollars.  Your car doesn't magically fix itself.  The roof doesn't seal up that hole its sporting.  Your kids don't get smarter.  Your homework doesn't do itself.  Your