Not that thinking about them helps... If she wants to tell somebody she misses them, she should just tell them. They can't read her thoughts. But there goes another day in sunny Melbourne (it's perfect here at this time of year) -- it's 11:23 pm (a bit later by the time I post this, no doubt) and Miriam's about to go to bed, still thinking about the good times she had in Massachussets in December and not doing anything about it. But while she faffs around doing the toothbrushing etc etc, I thought I would sneak in and have a go on the laptop.
She should probly write to them herself, shouldn't she. But this is for them if they log in to take a peek. Hellllooooo from Miriam!
We've been back for six weeks or so, now. It's been busy. She's now working three days a week as a technical writer, about to sign up for two more semesters of study at the University of Melbourne (Masters in Applied Linguistics) and writing away, busy busy busy. Despite a couple of minor hiccups and few dental appointments that would not have been entirely necessary if she hadn't waited FIVE YEARS between appointments, she's genuinely happy. I haven't seen her like this for ages. What is it? She's exercising regularly, eating right, taking time out to cultivate and nurture friendships and relationships with family... could that be all there is to it? Could it be that easy to create happiness? Interesting question.
And of course none of that helps me. I'm ceramic, mostly grumpy and have a very short and uninteresting spectrum of emotions. About the happiest I get is when she keeps me out of the sock. Hmf. I hang out in the herb garden and beat the snails off with a stick. I like my life. Really. NO, really. I do.
