I’m feeling a bit breezy tonight, so I thought I would just toss around a few random things and see where they land. So… here it goes…

Baby toys are not just for babies. Try one out the next time you happen across some baby-oriented entertainment piece (preferrably when the baby is not using it).

Things I Thought I Knew, Until:
1. I thought I knew how to shave, until… I purchased a double-edge razor. See this post for more details.
2. I thought I knew how to swiftly change diapers, until… I got peed on.
3. I thought I knew how to control my worrying over the small stuff, until… Will was born.
4. I thought I knew how to pronounce envelope (as in “he enveloped her”), until… I pronounced it like a letter holder and was ridiculed… by Jess.
5. I thought I knew everything, until… I met Jess. (she now insists that I know very little)

Once upon a time there was a light yellow little letter envelope who longed to be enveloped by a light yellow large manilla envelope. Each day the light yellow little letter envelope would wish and wish for a a light yellow large manilla envelope to come along and envelope him. On Tuesday it happened.

Did you ever start to think about one thing, which led to thinking about another thing, which led to thinking about yet another thing… and so on and so on… only to arrive back at the beginning of the first thing you were thinking about? Do you suppose that’s why dogs chase their tails?

If she sells sea shells by the sea shore, who would buy them? Couldn’t they just pick up their own?

April showers have brought May flowers. And summer smells quite nice.

Something has been on my mind lately and it’s something that I can’t seem to shake. No matter where I may go, what I may do, or how hard I may try to ignore it, Time seems to haunt me. Now there’s an interesting thought. It is as though Time is a painting with eery, yet indifferent eyes, that seem to follow you whereever you go. Not so much to menace you, but just to let you know that it’s there. Always there.

Buds on trees are beginning to open one eye, as if the other eye is still half asleep and they want to make sure the coast is clear before committing to a full awakening. Tulips, on the other hand, are throwing caution to the wind as if to say “Get up. It’s time get going!” Every Spring I watch nature wake up with a sense of anticipated nostalgia, remembering the Springs of my childhood and the other years in between. And yet it’s always there.

This weekend Will turned 11 weeks old. My younger sister turned 30 and my father turned 60 (years, not weeks). I remember when my sister was still a baby and my father would have been about my age now. Wow. 30 years ago. What happened to all of that time?

If you think about it, Time is actually a pretty powerful concept. It ushers in new days, seasons, generations. It only recognizes the past by the marks that have been left: memories and emotions being the principle tablet upon which Time writes its tales.

As I grow older, I am beginning to understand Time a little better. I think the key to avoiding the haunting gaze of Time is to recognize that the past is just as good and powerful as the present and the future. That memories and the emotions that accompany them are just as real and true as the budding trees and blooming tulips.

This is the first of Will’s many Springs. I hope that someday he’ll remember the excitement of seeing the first robin, of smelling the tulips, and talking of the opening trout season with his dad. I hope that he will also share those same hopes with his children. But we will all just take things one day at a time. Because that’s all you an really do… listen to the birds, smell the tulips, love those around you, and appreciate the moment you are in.