I started following this woman who wants to blog as a way to help her quit smoking pot. She had exactly one follower and linked to me on her very first post. She’s up to four posts and nine followers now. That’s how it starts, sister.
Why not see what she has to say? Everyone could use a little encouragement.
This morning she reposted this blog and I really needed to see it. My regular readers will know that I’m not the inspirational post kind of person, but today, after walking the dog in the ice, it resonated.
I look at these pictures to keep me going, too.
My boys are very fragile right now. Well, Testiclese is. Every little thing moves him to tears. And when I say “everything”, I mean everything.
Getting jumped in checkers, not finding the right shirt, not getting to choose which episode of Simon’s Cat we’re going to watch … little things.
And they aren’t tantrumy, bratty tears, either. They are wounded soul tears. Perhaps I’m projecting onto him because I’m feeling a little fragile, but I really want to help.
I’ve held him and asked him what is really bothering him, he can’t or won’t say.
Lonny had his annual Boulder Bird Club holiday party last night. The house was full of lovely older people, so good with kids, so kind and generous, but I was tired.
I was glad that this is our last party of the season. I was glad to have an excuse to make gratin potatoes with some of that cream Dr. Ken left at my house over Thanksgiving.
I was glad that other than our party guests, we had an empty house (only I would consider my house empty with 30 people in it) and I could retreat with the boys into one of our rental rooms and watch a documentary on Alaska.
There’s nothing like seeing how people survive Alaskan winters to give me a little perspective.
It’s not so bad, really.
Time to cut the crap.