We are such adaptive animals! The first time you find yourself on a new playing field, you panic, worry, feel ill at ease. You notice the bumps, the unfair play, the pain of being unprepared. The next day you maybe notice a bump or two, but the rest? You've grown used to it. If your shoes don't fit, you make them fit. It's like the crappy wall paper that you swore you'd change when you moved into the new home: change it right away because if you wait a few months, you'll forget it's even there.
I have now grown used speculating which irritant might bother Ed (who, I should note, has had lifelong sensitivities to all sorts of stuff -- all of which he, in true Ed fashion, basically ignores). I'm used to my little Apple computer still not working (we're running a new series of diagnostics today). And I'm used to the gray skies that have descended over us like stubborn relatives who come and then refuse to leave.
It's only when the time comes for me to start thinking about the photos that I have for you from this day (almost none) and the sentences that will describe my hours of writing (and watching the pings on the Network Utility on the computer) that I recoil at the repetitiveness of our issues here this week and at how for the outside observer, it may look like we're sort of standing still.
Thank goodness for breakfast! It would put anyone in a happy frame!
And thank goodness for our chickens who have profited from the warmer temperatures and the absence of snow!
And, too, thank goodness for the very large amount of progress in my daughter's belly -- she is less than a month from her due date and when she and her husband came over for dinner tonight, I could not help but stare!
The warmest possible cap to a good, if repetitive, day.
I have now grown used speculating which irritant might bother Ed (who, I should note, has had lifelong sensitivities to all sorts of stuff -- all of which he, in true Ed fashion, basically ignores). I'm used to my little Apple computer still not working (we're running a new series of diagnostics today). And I'm used to the gray skies that have descended over us like stubborn relatives who come and then refuse to leave.
It's only when the time comes for me to start thinking about the photos that I have for you from this day (almost none) and the sentences that will describe my hours of writing (and watching the pings on the Network Utility on the computer) that I recoil at the repetitiveness of our issues here this week and at how for the outside observer, it may look like we're sort of standing still.
Thank goodness for breakfast! It would put anyone in a happy frame!
And thank goodness for our chickens who have profited from the warmer temperatures and the absence of snow!
And, too, thank goodness for the very large amount of progress in my daughter's belly -- she is less than a month from her due date and when she and her husband came over for dinner tonight, I could not help but stare!
The warmest possible cap to a good, if repetitive, day.
