Dear Jewel, I admire your newfound spider appreciation. I can tell you that no such thing will happen in our house. My husband is trying to train our cat to find and destroy spiders. This is not really working. She would much rather hunt outdoors where she isn’t allowed.
Dear Martha, your post was so bittersweet. With all our moves, I have felt all those things but have not been able to say them so clearly. My daughter sometimes looks at photos of her cousins in Ireland and says wistfully, “I never see them anymore.” We know you are having adventures and living a good life there. We miss you.
I have cast around for a good first blog post topic and finally decided to write about my garden this year. And what a garden it is! Four terra cotta pots on my front porch, three with fresh herbs, one with flowers. Why am I so excited about this, you ask? Well. Continue reading “My garden”
This whole blog thing has been making me think. Blogging is such a curious thing to do, while I write blog posts in my head, I am also thinking….why should I be putting that on a blog?! Do my sisters/other people really want to read about how much I love cinnamon rolls and how often I craft and the random things I think/do?
That is silly. I have read SO MANY bizarre blog posts from people I have never met and will never be friends with. I will probably never make homemade mozzarella, but I have read at least 4 blog posts about how to do it. Rarely as I surf the web, do I think, what a waste of an internet page. Instead it’s comforting to hear the frank/funny/informative thoughts of other women (and sometimes men). What could be better than to hear the musings of four women I have known my whole life? I can’t wait to see glimpses into my sisters’ lives. I know the daily life overviews but I miss hearing the random thoughts that you share when you’re physically with someone. So here is something I would tell you if you were here with me. Continue reading “Spider-woman”
So. We are starting a blog, together. It makes sense to do it now–I’ve been living over here (in Ireland) for eight months now and I miss you all very much. Last weekend, when I burst into tears at the dinner table because I was homesick, BD said ‘that’s about right. you’re always homesick about six to eight months in to a new place’. I hate to be so predictable, but I am familiar with the routine now. After about six months of being in a new place, you start to think–wow, I really live here! Reality sets in. Sisters get together without me, we’re here alone thinking ‘leaving all that free babysitting with the grandparents was a bad idea’, and we are still at that stage of friendship in a new place where you feel more like a leach than a friend (PLEASE HANG OUT WITH US, PEOPLE WHO DON’T KNOW US YET).
It is spring-time right now, just past lambing season, and Ireland is so green and the birds are singing. We’ve always done all of our moving to new places (Vancouver, BC; Kingston, Ontario; Ireland) in late August or September, which gives us about a month’s worth of time to enjoy the natural beauty and then six months of winter in which to get depressed and question our decision. Then spring emerges as a reminder of all that is good in the world, and that there is so much of the world to see. These days, I pinch myself daily when I realize that this is my home, and my life.
This is a test. More later,