Mother’s Day is a wonderful time to honor the mothers in our lives. It can also be a difficult time for motherless children of all ages or mothers who’ve lost or haven’t yet had a child. (Not a humor post.)
In addition to starting a new blog, completing a couple of triathlons, touring with a Foreigner tribute band, and re-grouting my bathtub, I’ve joined Facebook.
Yes, yes, I know. After waxing philosophically about privacy concerns and other pitfalls, I finally caved. I’ve changed my status from “Conscientious Objector” to “I’m Here For The Kitten Videos.”
The trouble with grandmothers began when I came across a postcard published in 1965 that featured a picture of my grandmother standing in front of her restaurant. So much about that postcard intrigued me, even beyond my initial reaction, which was that in 1965 she was about the same age that I was as I stood there holding it. In the photograph she already looks like my grandmother, whereas as recently as just a few days ago, some new acquaintances were surprised to learn that I am older than dirt.
On Saturday, March 17, St. Patrick’s Day, the SunTrust Rock’n'Roll USA marathon rocked and rolled through Washington DC. This is my tale of leprechauns, banana peels, whoo-whoo girls, rockabilly, and a few lessons learned.
This is one of those posts that took a direction of its own. I set out to write about marathon motivational cheer signs. I guess I’ll save that for another day. Today’s the day that I tell you that my princess ballerina is running a marathon in March and going to law school in the fall and that I am a terrible mother who has not converted my children’s VHS tapes to digital format.