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The Edge
(This is not a post about U2. Sorry Jane.) I think I live on some precarious edge. Like – right next to a cliff. (You know, like the little old man in Up who wanted to plop his home right down beside the ravine, the waterfall, the danger?) I live there. Or at least, I have been camping there for far too long. And the view is alright, I guess, but the effort and the stress of living right on that edge is wearing me down. And another thing. Because I live so close to that edge I find it really hard to maintain stability. To find a firm footing.…
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Just a Reminder
Wilder went for his first ride recently in the front of the grocery cart. With a steering wheel even. And it just served to remind me that my Little Wilde Fox will not always be Little.
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Who’s With Me?
I have never been in love with Wal-Mart. I don’t care for their yellow smiley face trademark, their GreatValue branding or the way they nudge out every small business in their vicinity. But I could never be as self-righteous about the superstore as I would have liked. Because I kept shopping there. Despite poor customer service. At. Every. Visit. Despite low quality produce. Despite long waits because only three of the thirty-four check out lines are ever open. I think I have kept telling myself that their costs are lower. That it’s just so convenient to buy everything in one place. That my options were limited. But tonight, as I…
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Berg Is All Boy
I cannot say that I remember much about high school biology. (Sorry Mrs. Hendricks, it’s just true – okay?) And my final thoughts are still on hold about the entire nature vs. nurture argument. But this I do know. My son Bergen Hawkeye is all boy. All boy. I have done very little, if anything, to directly influence boy-like behavior in this four year old wonder. I have not personally ever purchased a toy gun for my son. Nor a bow and arrow. Or a toy hatchet or knife or whatnot. (Of course, Berg does own these items. I have just never thought to purchase them.) But, listen (especially…
