In the world of the gym, there are rules. Rules, I say!

…and I thought about how sometimes I go to such pains in my writing. If I have made any promise at all to myself, it is that I will not live an unexamined life; I will not stumble blindly from event to event, from year to year. Even then, with that promise in hand, I find myself more often than not standing toe-to-toe with truths I don't always like—and more often than not, I'm the one to back down. It's easier to choose humor over honesty.

Hark! The mothership comes.

After laughing for ages at how Shauny refers to her mother as The Mothership, I feel the need to steal her reference for the next few days. For lo, the Mothership is preparing to wing her way from the Tulliverse to Huntsvegas, and the Huntsvegas natives may never be the same.

first breath:
joy, laughter, jubilance, tears
photo ops
congratulatory cards
bassinets and sleep deprivation

first love:
nervousness, sweating, jubilance, tears
and everything in between
photo ops
secret letters
stolen kisses and forever promises

first loss:
disbelief, numbness, anger, tears
no photos
just flowers
and wondering how it all went so fast
from that to this

Far be it from me to jump on the bandwagon of the insanity of dress sizes for American women. What is an 8? A 12? A 16? Is a 16 the same as a 16W? Why do women have to just instinctively know that an 8 in one manufacturer is a 12 in another, while men have to remember nothing more than (very concrete) waist and inseam measurements to find a pair of jeans that fit?

That's another rant for another day. Surprisingly enough, I'm not in a ranting mood. Quite the opposite, actually.

Two years, minus eight days, ago:

Comfort care, for the living, is the cell phone that rings at a random hour, with the voice of an old friend on the other end of the line who says, "Look, I know you're up. Walk out of the room and talk to me."
— 'Comfort care,' 18 March 2002