postcards from the edge
We’ve been eating a pretty steady diet of humble pie this last year and a half. You know the old story by now. We sell our big house to save ourselves. Work, work, work in real estate. No paycheck. Then we move into a smaller house to save ourselves again. Work, work, work in real estate. No paycheck. Then we sell EVERYTHING and move to Mexico. No work, no work, no work in real estate and alas same result. No paycheck. My recession panties are only a slice of our humble pie. Of course, there have been bright spots too.
Heidi
Whitney
Lexi
Ben
Then of course there’s been this other bright spot of mine – BuenoBaby. And if I haven’t already said so, which I probably haven’t because I know whenever I say things like: “If I haven’t already said so…” or “I’m sorry IF I hurt your feelings…”, then I probably haven’t been as honest as I should. So let me say it again in a more polite and less weasely way: I know I haven’t already said so, but thank you.
Thank you for indulging me and reading, and looking – it’s made all that humbleness so much easier to swallow. I’ve read every one of your comments, and every email, and they’re all locked in THEE vault (now imagine me knocking on my head with my knuckles, like I’m knocking on a door, illustrating how my head is THEE vault).
Now get a little closer to your monitor so I can give you a cyber hug and a big sloppy kiss.
grapefruit our friend Gladys brought over this morning from the tree in her backyard.
I know you’re thinking, “Right on the money Meredith! Give us a photo of fruit and go on blah, blah, blahhing on it.” O.K. first of all I can post a picture of fruit. It’s my party. Secondly, I can write about fruit if I want. Which I don’t. I don’t want to write about fruit. Where is this going and why am I picking a fight with no one in particular regarding fruit? Find a track girl. O.K. I’m on it, here we go.
Sigh.
heidi
Feeling a little nostalgic today. Thinking about life, love, my kids. Thinking it’s time I write a post that doesn’t have to do with bodily fluids or loneliness, or loneliness with bodily fluids. Meredith, the track. Stay the course, get back on track. Yes, that’s right, nostalgia.
Sigh.
whitney
Thinking about the number three. Thinking about my three girls. A wise website once wrote: “Three is the number of personal completeness”. So I’m just sitting with that. Meditating on it, of course, until I have to engage in tactical hostage negotiations involving a baby doll, or until someone (I’m not naming names or writing about poop here) needs her diaper changed or a sip of water.
Sigh.
lexi
Heidi’s just begun talking, so my three girls, independent of me, are coming together and experiencing each other through actual verbal communication. Without me! They’ve formed their own little community within their circle of three. They talk about things, things other than me! Whereas Ben and I, once the epicenter of their worlds, will from hereon forward enter their little community of three by invite only. It’s a world which is rightfully theirs; this little life they’ve created together.
Sigh.
