tadpoles, butterflies, yeast and dreams of Tuscani....

Jo just dropped her bottle again - that makes three times.  I don't pick up anything more than twice - (wait - kitchen timer just went off, I'll be right back!)  wow... honestly, it's fourty min later - really right back huh?

I used to be an avid journalier.  I have boxes of them from the time I could write.  My first (that I remember) was a hello kitty journal that locked! It locked and only I had the key - so very very cool.  I got it for being brave when a mole was removed off the end of my nose.  Yep, had it not been for that journal, I would have a witch mole (probably a hair too!) coming out of the tip of this button beauty!  ;)

All this to say, after we had our kitchen fire in 2001 (long story - God heals!) My right hand was damaged - and after a year or so of the compression gloves and therapy I had a working hand.  BUT my writing was a different story.  It ended.  I couldn't hold a pencil for more than a few seconds - that lasted years.  Even now I just can't write and flow like I once did.  SO I suppose I found a new idea - blogging! I began blogging somwhere around 2003 or so.  That was the first easleypark.blogspot.com - it has been locked down and is no longer in service.   I decided too much of Emma's adoption information was available for the world to see - so I opened this current page.  AND THEN I FOUND MYSPACE.... life goes on... facebook arives (mywhat?)... I am sucked into the facebook world.  BUT something is missing.  Something is just not right... oh! I am not journaling.

See, I guess I don't care who all reads this, I don't write it for others.  Let's call this Meg's personal therapy.  SO why (in the past couple years) have I just quite processing through word?  I don't know.  What I do know is right now I need it.  I need to talk - but not out loud.  My brain needs to process....

Feel free to process with me.

Feel free to call me nuts...

BUT if His eye is on the sparow - that my words, my thoughts, my heart means so much to HIM - I need to process in order to be a better mom, wife, friend...

ALL THIS TO SAY - IF my ramblings bug you, please don't feel forced to read - ignore me.  I will process anyway.

SO onto today's processing - oh wait, I already did! Wow... that feels great.  Thanks!
me

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short on charge, not on words...

Darn it.  I am lazy and yep, I admit it.  I have much to say, but only fifteen min. of charge time to say it!  I could go find the cord, plug it in, have all the time in the world - but that would require getting out of bed, disturbing B and that just won't do.  For one, he is my heat source - and secondly the peaceful cadence of his breath would be disturbed.  He is a light sleeper - much more so than me.....

Oh, thirteen min. to go... no wait, make that twelve... grrr...

Have I told you that I love being married to a real man?  What makes a real man?  He carries a pocket knife.  Always ready to save his princeses, or to make a new tool out of that peice of tree.... OR to carve our names in a tree.  We did that to one of ours the other day, that way, we always know!  My B, a real man.

I just used it to cut my melatonin pill in half.  See what I mean?  A man always has the right tools to help - even if he is sleeping.  I love seeing the watch, scrunched dollar, single piece of hard candy, and the knife... Trying to convince myself not to steal that candy - it's a w. original...

I thought this had a spell check - I can't find it, and I was typing for emotion not correctness - so please forgive my lack.

I have lot's to write of, to tell you about medicians that Dr.'s say will help, then find out they don't - then find out you can't get insurance because of those same ones... I want to share, but now I only have five min. more - I don't think that's enough time.

Leave it to this, clomid was hard, clomid, shots, tears, they were harder - Dr. felt Effexor would make it all better..(while we added creams to the shots and clomid pills).. now what?  Three years later I find out the truth.  That's ok,  I have Josie, I have Emma, and I have B.  That's what I need..

But insurance would be nice too. 

Three min. left, don't think I want to run out too far, the screen just goes black.  Like in college, when my blue 1986 Cavalier would run out of gas.  The needle didn't work too well, and this says two min.  So good night, will write soon.  Must get warm and kiss that ear.  

Meg

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In the light...

I'm sitting for a moment in the dining room. The sound of the dishwasher is a blissful noise at the moment - last night we lost our water - today it was restored. For that I am beyond thankful. Jojo is asleep, I can hear her music softly in the background. Brad took Emmi out for a bit to run to Wal-mart - I escaped that tragedy!

BUT as I am sitting here I noticed something, and HAD to just write about it. The light coming in through the sun-room windows is hitting the leaves of a wreath I made. As it glows through I am instantly brought back to some of the most blissful memories of m childhood. Even in College light had a way of calming and soothing me. Not just the hard bright summer light. I don't care for that at all. But the dabbled glow of early fall, when the breezes start swaying the treas and the light flickers.

The light is golden. That I believe, is my favorite thing about home, about Taos, about Kentucky. And, about this moment in my sun-room. I realized when I saw it that it caught me unaware. I haven't seen the light in so long. It's like a long lost friend, when you see them again, you are so surprised. They have changed but you instantly remember all about them. That's what the light is.

I remember laying on the floor as a child, in the square panes of light and dark as the window was etched into the carpet. I remember sitting and writing through countless journals in the library, or outside of in , in Lexington. How about those days as a small girl, laying on the couch looking out the door to the back porch as the light flickered. Listening to the sound of Mom vacuuming as I looked at my never ending pile of library books.

We have lived in Louisiana for almost two years now. But I don't remember ever seeing the light here before. I am glad it has caught up to me. I miss it so! I think that there must be a certain dryness in the air for it to happen, a bit of crisp autumn edge that allows the light to sparkle as it comes through the leaves. Nearly always a breeze is involved. I don't want to analyze it too deeply, because there is some magic to it, I think I want to leave it that way.

A light of memories, and of moments caught unaware. My dream? To someday have a home that regularly has light visit it. Not just the overhead light of bright bulbs, but this graceful magic. The bedroom that is awash in calm dreams and the sun-room waiting for a book or project to begin. Well, for now I am happy just to say hello old friend. Welcome to my home.

Please feel free to stay a while. May I just sit and be with you?

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