Trying something new.

I'm trying something new today. 

Although it is entirely possible that this blog will share a similar fate with a half dozen abandoned journals laying around my house, I want to try and capture my thoughts, moments and memories for a couple of reasons:

(1) My memory is oh-so-terrible.  P and I are active.  We take trips, visit friends, explore new places . . .  and make all kinds of memories that my little brain just can't seem to hang onto.  I feel geriatric when he says, "hey, remember when we [fill in the memory]" or "we've been/done/seen this before, remember" and I (wiping the drool from my chin and adjusting my Depends) say, "huh? Not really."

(2) I'm 31 years old and wrestling with some interesting life decisions (including but not limited to: procreation, living abroad, career changes)

and

(3) I like sharing.  Maybe it's generational, but I just can't help myself.

With that said, here is a wonderful poem by Mary Oliver:

The Summer Day
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?