Let’s see. . . Timmy has saved the life of a rooster that Paul suspects was involved in cockfighting, but Skeeter, a neighbor’s hired hand, recognized “Clementine” as a champion fighter named Dynamite who was left for dead. Once Clementine was well again, Skeeter stole him*. . .
Oh, sorry. The BLOG! Meanwhile, back at the BLOG. Yes, OK, well . . . Blogwise, things have been quiet for a couple of months while we ironed out the technical difficulties encountered when Mothering.com was “migrated” (the official term, I’m told) to a new home. Like any good migration, different segments of the crowd arrived at their destinations at different times. And the Mothering blogs, chatty and independent and stubborn, took the long way home, finally arriving and settling in this week.
Hence, my extended “pause” in blogging.
So, now that I’m back in action, a brief status update is in order: My man Tim and I are still empty-nesters, but the bird flew home from Glasgow in mid-July for an idyllic few weeks of hanging out with friends, visiting old haunts (many of which just happened to be profferers of green chile), and working at the Santa Fe Opera. He even managed to squeeze in some baseball with his parents, just like old times. Now he’s back in school, though not in Scotland this year—much, much closer: New Mexico State, which is less than 300 miles away. And in the same time zone.
In my Mothering world, since my last blog post, we’ve put out a couple of issues of the magazine, launched our new web site, and moved my office (along with those of Staff Photog/Ad Production Manager/Web Production Ace Melyssa Holik and Managing Editor Melissa Chianta) to the space that used to serve as our library and product fulfillment area. So we have lots of room now for creativity . . .
*Lassie, Season 6, Episode 27, March 13, 1960. In case you missed it.
Top photo: While taking an early-morning exploratory walk around the campus of Reeve’s new school in mid-August, Tim and I heard a rooster greeting the day, turned the corner and came across this fellow.
Bottom photo: Reeve races for the ball, just one of many poorly thrown by his mother, who, yes, sadly, throws like a girl.