Friday, September 11, 2009

Yes, I KNOW what today is.

Eight years ago things changed, and they have stayed changed.

In the 8 years following, thousands more lives have been lost fighting the powers that killed the first few thousand.

In the next 8 years, it’s entirely possible that thousands more will be lost in continued warfare.

In response to this, I have no words. My mind is utterly boggled by how we can do this to one another. For what?

So, because there is no making sense of what happened, what is happening, and what will surely happen in our continued struggle with each other, let's now turn away from gnawing on the dry bones of one of the great metaphysical questions, to chow down on far more digestible fare.

Doesn’t mean we shouldn't think of it though.


Thanks to all who responded to my ‘are blogs dead’ question of yesterday. Consensus is that they’re not, which I’m taking as really good news.

One thing I was surprised to see is that a lot of folks have taken the step to delete their blog rolls. What? Yes, the BLOGROLL, once the symbol of how many ‘contacts’ a blogger had, is dead, and apparently Google Reader killed it (in 2008, if Grant is to be believed).

Hmmm, it might now be time to me to update MY reader account and axe the ‘roll if I’m going to hang with the cool kids. At the very least, I should cut out the dead blogs, eh? Sadly, continuing to click on them won’t bring them back to life, no matter how much we might want them to.


It’s come to my attention that a person who sits in Tinkerbell’s back seat and looks into the rear-view mirror sees an image of the driver’s mouth superimposed on the driver’s forehead. Freaky-deaky night-time mirror reflections, dude.

Thing 2 gets wicked creeped out by this, so of COURSE you know that I’m all lip-smackin’ fake kissy goodness as I make our way to school. I swear, that boy was about to jump out the car this morning in a fit of squicked-outedness.

Heh. I think I’ll keep some Oreos stashed in the glove compartment for future black-toothiness. Now THAT should be a memory worth making.


Which brings me to this thought: what’s you favorite Mom or Dad memory from your childhood?

There are lots of them rolling around in my giant noggin, but this is the one that pops up first today: I remember being 6 or so, sitting on my Dad’s shoulders on a hot summer afternoon as he jumped off a diving board into a sky-blue pool. On his shoulders it seemed like I was 10 feet tall, the ground was very far away. One he’d jumped, the time to splashdown seemed incredibly loooong, almost longer than I could hold my breath, but not quite. Upon surfacing, it’s a good bet I asked to go again.

Because he’s been gone for so long now (almost 18 years), I have a very hard time imagining my dad as the 77-year-old man he would be now. So, I think of him as the not-yet-40 Daddy of my childhood, churning up from the blue depths with me still on his shoulders, both of us panting and laughing, bespeckled with water drops glittering in the afternoon sun.

It’s a good thought to have on this late-summer day.

And you?

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