from the mixed-up files of a middle-aged mind

This past weekend I had two--not just one--but two family reunions to attend. It had been one tough week at our house (more on that later, maybe, but I prefer to live in the land of the light and mundane rather than the dark and dramatic) and by Friday afternoon I wasn't feeling up to anything more than curling up in bed and turning the world away for a few days. But duty to family will drag one to do just about anything, so we left a kitchen full of dirty dishes, hopped in the dirty mini-van--completely ill prepared for two days of camping--and just drove. I'm glad I did. We stopped at my dad(deceased for 20 years, but the product of a very big and connected family of almost 250)'s family reunion first, on the way to my husband's immediate family reunion out by Moon Lake. As I made the rounds to say hello to my favorite incarnations of what I remember about my dad, I found myself buoyed up by the enthusiastic hugs and genuine pleasure they expressed over our arrival. A...

As a child, I always wanted to grow up to be a blogger. But it wasn't until I was required to do so in order to post on Lorien's amusing anecdote about poop (so happy that finally, thanks to the wonders of the Internet, these types of highly entertaining stories are no longer confined to venues such as the Regis and Kelly show), that I finally had the opportunity. Since it's after midnight and I get a little too punchy when I'm sleep-deprived, I'll cut this first entry short. We'll see what I feel like ranting, raving or rambling about on Monday.