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Just so you know we are still alive. Bubbles took this picture on our window. She told me it was a butterfly, but know that I see it, I’m thinking, big, big moth.

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Craft blog that is.  She is thinking up a name, wants to take pictures, add links and showcase her brilliance.  Oh wait, that is me, her adoring mom, editorializing.

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Freddy is thrilled that he is finally old enough to get his own account at the Y.  Here is signing up for his Fitlinx profile!

These are actual words spoken to me by my GYN last week.  I was sitting on the dege of the table under my sheet.  He entered the room, boomed out a greeting, and said “are we thing the “m” word? 

It took me a minute, but I grasped his meaning enough to stammer “uh, maybe”.  What I was really thinking was “what makes him think that without any questions, any peeking, nothing? ”  What was visible in me a first glance that he would say such a thing?    Hmm…

I really like this guy and I didn’t find him to be offensive at all.  He calls it like it is and gives wonderful advice.  It struck me off guard I guess.  Never to be one at a loss for words, I was.

When I come home from the Y I often tell the kids about my “friend”.  For a long time I didn’t know her name so that’s how I referred to her.  I was getting into the sauna today when I glimpsed her leaning on a cane.  I assumed she must be recovering from some sort of knee surgery.  Not.

She told me she had a stroke.  That’s about all she could say.  Her eyes filled with tears when I asked her when it happened.  Then I realized she couldn’t answer me.  I asked her if it was too hard to speak.   She nodded and moved off to her rehab appointment and I dressed. 

I stopped in the waiting room and told her that I would catch up with her and she would be in our prayers.  I haven’t stopped thinking about her all day.  How fragile our lives are, our very beings lie in perilous balance with God’s plan for us.  This woman, my previously unnamed “friend” had touched my life and yet if she disappeared I wouldn’t have known where to begin to look for her, if even I would.  I am sure that I would miss her and wonder forever “what became of…”

I told the kids that she isn’t that much older then me, to which Bubbles asked how come I know all of these “old” people.  Gasp.  Freddy told me not to worry, to them anyone over 30 is old.  Gasp again.  I remember when I turned 30.  I was in Paris, for what would turn out to be the last time.  It was the year that I discovered that Paris had antique shops. 

In all of my travels over the previous decade, inluding the year I lived in Paris, I had not noticed one, not one, antique shop.  That birthday trip I saw one, then another, then another, they were everywhere.  I remember thinking that they must have sprung up in the last 10 years.  Then I realized that some of them were hundreds of years old.   I guess “old” is relative and we prayed for my “friend”.