Forgetful We Can Be
It's been 26 years, but I won't forget that you said that I should tuck my shirt in because leaving it untucked, though that was the style, made me look fat.
Why Resist
Often enough, I catch myself resisting something with a childish inner voice that pouts and exclaims, "I don't want to!". The household paperwork whines to be organized. The laundry mountain threatens an avalanche. The thank you notes and birthday cards wait for a short, handwritten, a stamp, and a ride to the post office. Dishes and dusting, homework and housework.
Conversation in Kind
At the park with a friend, watching our children frolic, we talk about the hard stuff. It doesn't matter if there are other parents nearby; they'll either listen and learn... Or listen and judge. But it's not their conversation unless they ask to join, so we go on about things.
In the beginning
Wow. Here it is. Post numero uno.
I've composed this post so many times... In my notebook. In my head. In Outlook and Word and OneNote and Evernote. Now that I'm here everything that wants so badly to to be spilled is causing a bottleneck and only a tiny fraction is dribbling out. Perhaps that's as it should be - my Critics are hovering around, trying to convince me that whatever I say in this first post, it will sound trite or insufficient or somehow or another "not good enough".