Five Hundred

It was almost exactly two years ago: July 17, 2006. I stumbled across this thing called "blogging" that let me do what I enjoy almost as much as scratching my ass through tight shorts: blabbering on about everything - "anything moving"The Peeper was the subject of my second and third posts that very same day. And I promised to talk about adoption, soccer and politics, and I think I've done that. I can promise that as long as we have Little Miss around there'll continue to be adoption, politics is as much a part of me as the whole really-loud-snoring-thing (sorry, honey), and I'm going to talk about soccer whether y'all like it or not (and judging from the lack of comments, you don't).

Oh, well.

That's why it's MY crappy little blog - I get to chose what 99.78% of the world doesn't read.This blog has been with me, a part of me, from frozen peas through times of small joys to great happinessand almost inexpressible sorrow to glasses and sippies and drywalling and scooters...And after two years and a month, 761 days, this is post #500.

Every day we pass another milestone. That's not exactly profound; rather, it just is what life is, our slow walk from birth to death. If we're lucky, along the way we find hope and joy and love to go with the pains and losses, we use our hands and our hearts and minds to craft our route; dig out a root or two across the path, built a bridge or three. If this little electronic place has helped me talk to and touch you, I am pleased, and content. I can stop by the woods at today's evening feeling that I have made a small progress along that Way."For the woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep."
R. Frost