It’s about time

Why have I gone such long stretches without blogging in the past? What trips me up? What holds me back?

Time has a lot to do with it. Not in the sense of not having time (or making time) to write. It’s that I always want things to be in perfect chronological order, and I want to blog about them at the exact moment they happen. But a) life doesn’t always provide immediate blogging time whenever something cool happens, and b) most of you wouldn’t even know that I was going out of order, anyway! It’s all just a roadblock constructed by my own mind, by my own sense of what is “right.”

Well, guess what! I do not have to be perfect. Not in this blog, not in life, not anywhere. I can choose a random photo, a random story, a random topic — in other words, anything I want — and just run with it. There is nobody to ask for permission or to chastise me for my choice. The choices are just that: MINE.

That said, let us take a look at these adorable children.

Let’s call them “Quinland” and “Crowley,” because those are their names. It’s hard to believe that a mere five years after this photo was taken, the small person on the left would be in New York, studying theatre, and the small person on the right would be in the U.K., studying art.

If I had unlimited funds, I would travel the world to hang out with these people and see what they are doing in their lives right now, because I miss them horribly. This whole “empty nester” thing is a serious drag. Even if the fry didn’t spend their every waking moment with me (and they certainly did not), they floated through my line of sight often enough that I felt I could keep up with their lives. Now, I have all sorts of time for other things — cooking, cleaning, getting enough sleep when I am sick — but I’d trade that in a second to be a fly on their walls occasionally.

I love you, my people. xoxo

Cat Stevens in the cradle

My phone has three voice mail messages from my sister. I decide I had better call back.

I’m glad I did. It is a legitimate emergency.

“Do you know who sings Cat’s in the Cradle?”

Of course I do. “Harry Chapin,” I say. This is correct, but it is apparently not the right answer.

“Nooooo! Who is Harry Chapin?! How do you know that? It should be Cat Stevens!”

It turns out she has always believed that Cat’s in the Cradle was a Cat Stevens song, but when she shared this mistaken opinion with my two music-obsessed nephews, she had, in time-honored tradition, been thoroughly mocked.

She has decided to redeem her reputation by proving that most people think the song is by Cat Stevens. She is about to be surprised.

Her first call is to Quinland.

“Which of these singers sang Cat’s in the Cradle?” Four choices are given, including Harry Chapin and Cat Stevens.

Q’s response? “I have no idea who actually sings it, but I know it’s not Cat Stevens.” Strike one!

After David and I complete the inning with strikes two and three, she gives up (although she is still convinced that everyone else on earth thinks it’s Cat Stevens, and not some other random guy no one has heard of).

We, meanwhile, happily start scouring the internet for trivial facts about Harry Chapin.

Photo by Jason Blanchard / CC BY