40x365: #5 ~ Mr. O.

My sixth grade teacher, barely out of college. All of the girls had crushes (without really even knowing it) and apparently so did you. You married a former student. Happily married. Why does that still creep me out a little?

40x365: #4 ~ Eve

My first boss and still the best. You taught me so much and made me laugh. Thank you for that. A new mom again at 46, you are a marvel. I hope you are getting some sleep these days, friend.

40x365: #3 ~ Tim

I know nothing about you, yet you are central to a key memory. The first boy to ask me out on a "real" date, and I said no. Wish you could have known how nice it was to be asked.

40x365: #2 ~ Jonathan

My nephew, once so little and now we share a shoe size. You showed me what parenthood would be like, with all that love. A vegetarian by choice, you stand by your principles. I am proud to be your aunt.

40x365: #1 ~ Serena

You are first because you are my first memory. On the other side of the preschool easel you fell, cut your chin. I thought the blood was red paint, and that small puddle is the earliest visual memory I have.

A new purpose in life!

I have quite a few blogs bookmarked that I rarely visit anymore. Earlier this evening I decided to check in on some old friends (friends who haven't the foggiest idea I exist, but friends in my mind nonetheless) and I was intrigued by one woman's seemingly ordered-yet-random numbered posts. I followed a link to discover x365. One man, on his 40th birthday, had the idea to write exactly 40 words each day - 40 words about a person he met or knew - for exactly 365 days.

This is right up my alley. This, I think, will get me to my blog every day. This is the answer to my poor, neglected virtual space. Let the names begin!

Walk

Ah, the joys of having the teeniest following in cyberspace. I can walk away for three weeks without worrying anyone. Incidentally, walk is this week's theme over at Picture This, and that happens to be something we do often around here.

I can't tell you how many shots I have of Eli from this perspective. What is it about seeing your little one walking away into the distance that's so compelling? Maybe it's the pride in his independence; maybe it's the rare chance to see him from afar; maybe it's one of the few ways he'll actually let me take his picture. Whatever it is, when I have my camera on hand, I can't help myself.