Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing—Benjamin Franklin

Making the laws of the universe simpler

A good friend once gave me a bumper sticker that said: "Simplify--Henry David Thoreau." Anyone who knows me probably knows why that one word proves she is a good friend and I don't need to say much more on the subject, but for those who aren't aware, lets just say it's never been my forte. The are times when it's been a downright nemesis. However, today I was vacuuming the one remaining rug in our otherwise tile covered apartment and it occurred to me: I'm finally learning to take Thoreau's advice (or at the least I've started to realize the need for it). I'm a far cry from where he was, and I can safely say I have no plans to go live in a shack alone and write poetry at any point in my life, but I am learning that in many aspects of my life, less is unquestionably more and "simplify" is pretty much the best advice anyone could give me. Whether it be possessions, personality traits, silly habits I hold on to, or any of my ridiculously hypothetical fears and what nots, I need to purge a lot in my life and I am sometimes the biggest complication/road block in my life. Unfortunate. The closer we get to real life--and by real life, I mean a real job, home, and fingers crossed, a semi-stable existence--the closer I get to realizing what matters. I'm not saying it's the best advice for everyone, but I think it's safe to say, that lately that one word follows me around impersonating my conscience; completely unbidden, but oh so pertinent. So thank you Mr. Thoreau for reminding me. Not to mention Toni for putting us in touch. 

Potty Training: Fear and Loathing in the Bathroom

Incriminating, I know, but I think it is worth mentioning that Little went to the potty for the first time. I got the it mostly because he is just so darn interested in the big one and I thought it might give him something to be distracted by, plus he's constantly announcing, "Diaper, Mommy! Diaper!" when he has soiled his pants, so I figured... what could it hurt to try? And lo and behold, he skipped right to #2. Too much information, and I'm fairly certain/crossing my fingers it was a fluke as I'm not ready to tackle potty training just yet and I don't think he is either, but I guess we'll see if he keeps being interested. As it is, every time I go, I give him a chance to try it as well, and of late he's insisted on having a book (usually one of mine) to keep him company.

Raising cane

So... we're back. And hopefully that means back to blogging. I make no promises, but I will do my best to make sure it isn't a month before the next post. Not that I have anything terribly relevant to say other than "we're back," but since when has that stopped me from blogging, eh? 
So for lack of something better to share, let me share the oh-so-fantastic surprise we found upon our return (and yes... that is indeed a seemingly unimportant and utterly pointless cane hanging in the tree outside of our apartment).
To explain the joy of this we have to go back about a year to a Halloween party. We bought aforementioned cane to complete Bryce's costume, but afterwards couldn't quite figure out what to do with it. It floated around from place to place in the house, and even down to the storage unit a few times, but in a moment of purging, it was finally decided that we no longer needed to keep it around it for our not-so-geriatric selves and I told Bryce that he could go ahead and throw it away. We went about our business, cane-less and perfectly fine with that until a few days later when I looked up at the tree outside of our apartment, and there it was... our very own cane hanging from the branches. Bryce had apparently been waiting for me to discover it. I got a good laugh and left it there until I could go out and return it to the dumpster the next day. However, upon waking up the next day I found that it had moved. It was still in the tree, but in a different location. And thus it has been every morning since. Every now and again we'd see the neighbor kids playing with it or see it on the ground around the yard, but always it ends up back in our tree. I said my final goodbye to it as we headed out for the summer (I didn't really, but we did have a conversation about the slim chances of it being there when we got home) and then I promptly forgot all about it. That is until we pulled into the apartment at 2:00 am and saw it sitting in our tree, a little worse for wear, but still welcoming us home. Melodramatic, I know. However, the impressive part of the tale is that we had a storm to beat all storms the other night--lightning, hail, trees blowing over, etc. When we woke up in the morning, outside of our apartment was a disaster. There were tree branches everywhere and all sorts of craziness, but there sat our cane, like it hadn't noticed a thing in the night. We've decided it's a land mark. 
So there you have it, a needlessly long story simply to say that I'm glad to be home and I think I might really miss it if my poor little weather beaten cane were to one day disappear.

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