Not Much to Report, But...

L and I have landed in California, and R is at the trailhead in Glacier with his brother, all systems go. My sis is on the verge of labor with her babe #5, Michael Phelps is about to swim his potentially historic 200 butterfly race, and all of this expectancy makes my heart feel, well, expectant. Waiting.

And yet, my baby sleeps in the darkness of the late dusk, oblivious to the tension and turmoil of the world around her. A blankie, some milk, a lullaby and some snuggles -- a reminder that yes, life really can be that simple.

I am loving the Olympics. I haven't seen them for a lot of years, and suddenly, so many of the olympians are my age -- and younger. It's a little bit bizarre.

Twenty-five years ago tonight, my mother went to sleep, exhausted from caring for three kids all day in the intense August heat, making fifty-point turns in bed to attempt to get comfortable, then awoke in the small hours of the morning to the unmistakable throb and pulse of labor. Two hours later (yes, TWO), I slid into the world. And here we are!

I was going to post a cute picture of the Miss, but Blogger is being a booger. Happy Olympicizing, friends!