It’s never too late to call

Sleeping dog

Image from The Suburban Crab archives

Once during my late teens, my mother caught me calling a friend at 10:30 at night. She wasn’t pleased, especially when she found out that I’d accidentally woken up my friend’s parents when I rang his house. “It’s rude to call so late!” she scolded. She subsequently instituted a household rule that we were never to call people after 10 p.m.

My mother, if you couldn’t guess, is serious about her household rules. If she says no calling after 10, then you sure as heck ain’t calling if it’s after 10.

A couple of weeks ago, Ted and I had just settled in for the night—lights out downstairs, kids sent to bed, a few last minutes of reading before getting some shut-eye—when my cell phone buzzed urgently from my nightstand.

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This time, taking the long road

Image courtesy of o5com via Flickr

Image courtesy of o5com via Flickr

Well, that didn’t take long, did it?

And no, I don’t mean my blogging, though I realize going more than a month between posts doesn’t inspire much confidence that I’ll have a whole lot of follow-through on that, either.

I’m talking about fasting. Shortly after my boastful post about how I’d been following the Fast Diet for something like three weeks, my interest in denying myself food, even just twice a week, began to wane. Suddenly, my devoted practice of fasting fell to just once a week, and then once every two weeks and then…

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Another birthday, another day closer to death

Image courtesy of The Suburban Crab archives

Image courtesy of The Suburban Crab archives

Someone once told me that you never feel as old as when your kids celebrate another birthday.

Well, Boof just turned 15 on Friday. Imagine how I’m feeling now.

That sense of speeding toward your death doesn’t hit you those first couple of kid birthdays. You just feel joy and wonder: I can’t believe he’s turning 1! Or: She’s 2 today! She’s such a big girl!

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