...and Remembering What It Is To Be a Kid Is Better than Getting Your Way

Today, in a move I learned from my mother, I forgot what it is to be a kid. Actually, to be human.

As people, we all want to be special, but only in a way that doesn't upset the balance of belonging to our peer groups. In first grade, kids are learning what it is to conform to their social group. They're figuring out what it takes to fit in. They want to please. They want to be comfortable in their surroundings, even while they want others to notice they're unique.

My seven-year-old has had a chaotic life. She has the amazing ability - already - to assess her environment and adapt, but she is only a first-grader. While she loves being a little different, she craves community. I understand this; I am the same way at nearly forty years old. And yet, I forgot.

It was only for a moment, maybe fifteen minutes, but it was long enough to make her cry. Because she is already a compassionate, beautiful being, her response to this horrible amnesia was, "I should remember to be more grateful, Mama."

Her kindness made me proud of who she is and ashamed of myself.

Those fifteen minutes, hopefully minor for her even with the distress, will be with me a long time.

...and Taking Your Own Photos Is Better than Google Images (part two)

Gratuitous Cat Photo (Cleo)

All Facebook friends know I declared it Clint Eastwood Friday.  In a lovely bit of synchronicity, this was in the window of the bookstore next to my salon.

Corner of 5th and Main in downtown Boise

One of the large bins at Lux.  Makes me think of my dad...

Shadow of trees in the City of Trees

I cheated.  This was a shot I took a couple of days ago of my tat.

...and Taking Your Own Photos Is Better than Google Images

...though I'm very partial to Google Images.

Today is a gorgeous sunny day in Boise.  I want to try out these lovely new camera apps on my iPhone and putz around downtown before heading in to Illuminate.  Expect many amateur shots.  Just warning you.

Good Bye, Steve

It's been years since I've worked at Micron, but I will always remember Steve Appleton as a great man with a quick smile and a warm handshake.

My heart goes out to his family.

Rest easy, Steve.