Almost Wordless Wednesday
I recently found several months worth of photographs on my Mother in Law’s camera. This is one from the 4th of July. I so want to freeze time and keep her this sweet, wondrous creature forever.
Friendship and the internet, what it all really means….yeah, here I go again.
This is the post where I call out my own hypocrisy and tell you why I went back to Twitter. Plus a small dissertation on friendship.
I was reading comments on a friend’s blog recently and the subject of Twitter was being discussed. Some folks were talking about paring down their follower list to make it more manageable, since it is physically impossible to keep up with the daily ramblings of 900+ people. I started thinking, what if I restored my account, and whittled away at my list so that I was only following/being followed by the few people I… Continue reading
Follow Friday
Although I’m no longer and active Twitter-er, Tweeter? I do treasure the relationships that came of my time there.
One of the most awesome is my long lost twin @ antibob
We’ve discovered in the past few months that we share many common traits, wishes, fears and phobias. She chronicles her life with her adorable little boy, Jamison, and husband Jason (who bears more than passing similarities with my own husband) here.
She writes with breathtaking honesty about her life and her struggles. She’s funny, smart and an awesome cook. (Or so I’ve read. I have yet to receive… Continue reading
Why I’m a Twitter Quitter
This was not the post I intended to write today. I had something else in mind entirely about how hard it is to get Miss Avacakes to eat these days. But since I created an account just to update Twitter when I have a new blog post, I have some questions to answer about why I left.
This may be very difficult for some of you to understand, and that’s ok. My reasons are my own and at the end of the day they make sense to me and that’s what matters. But I know a lot of you were… Continue reading
Twenty Years On, Part 3
I remember it was gray. It was January, after all. I don’t remember if it was cold. I remember the minister speaking in generalities about my dad. He didn’t really know my dad all that well, seeing as how my dad was not a churchgoer. He simply hadn’t been able.
The one memory that stands out clearly from the day we buried my father was that I prayed hard to just get through the day without breaking down. So many eyes were upon my mother and me. Everyone looking at us, whispering in hushed tones.
I remember scattered fragments of… Continue reading
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