Whenever I come out here to go for a run, I get to this bend in the road where a burst of excitement courses through me and my heart begins to race. I start smiling, I may or may not pant and wriggle, and I realize in that moment I know exactly how a dog feels when you ask him if he wants to go for a walk.
Evidence of Lilliput, as I secretly expected. Now to locate that wardrobe door...
Making me happy. Just pure happy. Don't worry about the date...that only proves she's my girl.
Sophie's work in progress is still in progress...
He looks like the kind of fellow who could get by just fine without hands but that's only my opinion, and we all know what happened when I asked for thumbprint cookies and everyone else wanted the kind you have to ice.
The other morning Sophie came downstairs at 5:15 (she leaves the house by 5:30) and presented me with this drawing. It's entitled Confessions of an Ornithologist, which is not half as intriguing as the fact I was up late the night before, helping her through a crisis of feeling overwhelmed by everything she had to get done...
Moral: don't stipulate to needing a complete understanding of your teenager. Empathy is good. But don't hold out for logic, not every time. Your soul will make a horcrux before that happens.
So much violin (and cello) being played lately, at all hours of the day. A music competition looms on the horizon...
How is that the cat's problem? It's not.
Sometimes I'd like to be a cat, too.
