Everything and Nothing

It is 1:24 AM. I am wide awake.

Here is a picture from a while ago when Dave came upstairs. I was lying on the floor with my camera. Here we were... Me wearing the pajama pants I purchased for him, but accidentally shrunk in the washing machine.... Dave looking on as we discuss the journey of the pajama pants. We agreed it was funny that they bear the message "OBEY ME." Mostly funny because our home is not very autocratic.

After we talked about the pajama pants, Dave quizzically asked what I was doing...

"I am thinking," I replied.

"About what?" he asked.

"Everything and nothing," I replied.

"Want to talk about it?" he inquired.

"Well, it is a little hard to talk about everything and nothing...," I answered. And it is.

But these are the kinds of things I think about... And write about... Things that mostly don't see the light of day...

They do see the light of my journal pages, however. But as I have found myself reading journal-like blogs of others lately, I think about how awfully interesting and often inspirational that style of blog is to read. I wonder how it might feel to be so open? So daring? Such courage these writers show! Such transparency and vulnerability... Perhaps I'm taking baby steps in that direction. Or maybe not.

I feel like writing now, so I'm going to...
I have things like this throughout my house. It's confession time: I have trouble getting rid of Aden's baby things. This toy and extra-large Lego set are stowed in the corner of the laundry room. There is no rational reason for this. They haven't been touched for years, and we are not having more children. They are not for visitors... No. There's no way around the fact that I'm hanging onto Aden's babyhood.
I'm also hanging on to lots and lots of books. Just looking at them stirs comfort in me. I love to touch the paper, study their covers, organize them, read them, read them again, and even smell the pages. I can imagine living without many things; but not books. They are my refuge, my inspiration and my joy.
This is a tiny cap that plugged a vial that contained a dead tadpole. It arrived today in the mail. Today it was -21 degrees outside, and of course the vial was frozen solid. Ribbits Galore doesn't exactly have the best mailing practices, evidently, and Aden is devastated that he cannot go forward immediately with his tadpole habitat... This year has been one of pet death between the rats, Flash the cat, Winston the kitten, and this poor tadpole. We will order another one, but Aden is very sad about the wait as well as the death...

Speaking of -21 degrees, I stand corrected; it is actually -24 degrees. I just checked. I sincerely dream of living somewhere warm someday.

This sweet feline is Sally (named by the animal shelter). She is another failed foster attempt, and we are in love with her. We are not as much in love with the sounds she is making as she has gone into heat. It is time to get her spayed. MEARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROWWWWWWWW! Yikes.

Now it is 2:30 AM. I love the night. The house is comfortably dark, the solitude pure, my thoughts clear.

Alas, I must go to bed in order to keep pace with the rest of the world that governs life's wake-sleep cycles... I'm so looking forward to this new decade!