Tuesday, April 16, 2013
This is a little bright for me but kind of working outside of my color comfort zone. I've got a lot going on right now, hopefully some good change.
Last night, I complained to my husband that I was NEVER going to make it to the Olympics.
"In what?", he asks. (A good question).
"Oh, I don't know, running, swimming, anything! Because I can't get the pain in my foot to stop. It's this messed up nerve thingy. And I've done all of the PT, the three months-no running, no soccer, strength training, icing, Motrining (yes, it's a verb with me), all of that and still sheer pain will strike me like lightning. AND I am never going to make it to the Olympics!"
He laughs, "Oh, well, yeah, that's the reason you aren't going to make it. That makes perfect sense."
Posted by Beth HF at 8:53 AM
Thursday, April 11, 2013
|"B" is for Beth and for busy. (this is from one of my 6th grade art lessons)|
I was very close with my grandparents. My Grandma Ruth lived with us and my other two grandparents were always under 90 minutes away. I miss them every day. There are times when it literally kills me that my grandfather can't see what beautiful children I have and how much they would make him laugh. And that my Grandma Ruth isn't able to gently implore my kids over and over to "Be good to your mother." just like she did to us. Grandma Gen can't spoil my children with "under the bed presents" and my kids don't leave a note under her pillow every visit just like I did. (Kind of wish she had kept some of those).
The narrative, our/my story, it's in my head but memory is fleeting. And I am find that if I don't write it down, I will forget, no matter how hard I try. Even the things, I think I will NEVER forget, I do. And life, has gotten easier in so many ways but also busier too. I have a little word document for each child that I have written down random, wonderful, eye rolling, ethereal and amazing things that they have done and said. But I recently realised that a lot of their history has been on here, an "album" of sorts, a scrapbook, if you would. My art, my thoughts, my family, our stories.
My uncle once commented that a blog is a very "sign on your lawn" kind of thing. And well, it is, but I can't tell you how much I enjoy going back and reading my entries from just a few years ago. I am, in sorts, saving the notes under the pillow.
Posted by Beth HF at 12:55 PM