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New Life in Paradise

Posted on July 21, 2007

Totally trite, but here it is: You never know what you have until it’s gone. We were lucky, we had exquisite interludes of total lucidity. We knew that the friendship was special. Two people came into our lives and we adored them, still do, but one has left. He loved our girls with an authenticity and trueness of heart that was rare in today’s world. The girls loved him back and his absence, from the anticipation to the reality, has created an ache. Witnessing our girls and their confusion a we explain that he won’t be back tonight is heartbreaking. Luckily, our girls have Sean’s memory and already they remember him. The guy and Kee! Kee! is spoken of often. These pictures are pawed…

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Suburban Musical

Posted on July 21, 2007

The doors are thrown open, curtains billow like sails along the windows, and the hanging pots drip with water, the blossoms bursting with thanks. My fingers dance across the keyboard. peck, peck, peck, rat-a-tat-tat Dogs barking, girls screeching, and the men of the neighborhood soldiering behind lawnmowers, the air crackles with purpose and potential. The sky overhead, only yesterday dark with rain, is blue as far as the eye can see. The sun bathes everything in her triumphant glow, the storm of yesterday but a blip on our Adirondack summer screen. We have no plans, just enjoying this crystal moment in suburban bliss – coffeee on the patio, red double stroller brimming with organic goodness from the farmer’s market, and our girls napping in…

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Still here

Posted on July 21, 2007

And, for comedic purposes, still ankle deep in the raw, liquid waste of other people. Toddler mayhem, marital discord and home maladies always make for great blog fodder. For life purposes, it pretty much stinks. As rich as the material is, and trust me, this shit’s so rich it could fertilize a field, the clean up significantly cuts in to blogging time, that and the obsessive hand washing and Clorox-wipes-beneath-barefeet-cleaning-shuffle thing I do. I left the house this morning through the front door, our golden tressed boarder was making her delicate way upstairs. She is a wisp of a thing, barely a hair over 5′ and I don’t think she’s ever seen a 3 digit number while standing on a scale*. “Bye, have a…

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