I designed a new banner, too, but got lost in the coding trying to figure out how to override the current header. Finally I said, ENOUGH WITH THE CODING! And that was that. Someday I will dive back in.
Another bit of New Year's blogging resolution is my realization that I simply don't have the type of brain that will allow me to carry two blogs along. And so Chinua and I are parting ways in the blogosphere. He will be continuing with Fly Fishes Fly and I will amble along over here. I can't say that it is permanent, but I am very determined that my novel will live, and that's another reason to clear space in my two minutes of writing time per day.
Last night, driving home in the dark, I entered into a new level of long-suffering. We had gone for a check up of Kid A's thumb, and after dealing with the sexist joking of the (otherwise very kind) plastic surgeon--"You want your thumb to work properly, don't you? So you can keep your mother under it? (!) And your wife."(!!)--we stopped at the playground for a while. I mused about the fact that I had been a little depressed by the playground when we first arrived. It was too much of a leap from the playgrounds in Sacramento, and even the playgrounds in Turkey and Israel. But there we were, yesterday, and all I could think of was how nice it was for the kids to climb on the jungle gyms.
The sun was heading on its way when we started the hour and a half drive back home, and we were in for it.
Crying children, Leafy slapping people, darkness and people who drive with their brights on, dogs running in the street, cows wandering (you never know when they'll walk in front of your vehicle), men and women walking in the middle of the road, only visible when your headlights hit them, roads with potholes the size of craters, roads the width of one small vehicle, buses passing and driving you off the road, gearing down, gearing up...
It's almost too much. Did I mention that I was driving?
But we pull lessons out of everything, like those pieces of paper at the top of a Hershey's Kiss. And the drive, though harrowing, didn't last forever. At last the kids were in bed. At last I was no longer squinting to see whether a person would show up two feet away from my vehicle, looming out of the darkness.
At last I could rest.
I hope you can rest, now, on this last day of the year.
Blessings for the New Year, dear friends.