Four weeks ago, I had a rather sad conversation with one of my best friends who informed me that she was moving...14 hours away...in four weeks. Last night, after four weeks of squeezing in as much time with her as possible (including packing boxes--it's an art form; one I have good skills at), I said goodbye.
You would think after 28 years of moving, or other people moving, I would be used to this pattern of comings and goings and saying goodbye. But I'm not. I still hate it.
It's a navy blue day.
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I just found a fun new tool to play with and it's making me happy. I've been working out plans for how to rearrange the furniture to...
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Well, I hesitate to claim a crying victory too soon; however, I do think we have solved (albeit not in the most perfect way) the crying issu... -
A Perfect Family Portrait Down on a little street just off the center square of town is a portrait studio. This is the studio for every fami...
1 comment:
You'd think. I guess I'm used to it: used to really not liking it. It's the price of friendship.
I am sorry (English sorry). Love you sis!
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