Real quick.

First. A quick picture of Zachary who lost one of his front teeth while I've been here in California. Is it normal that this made me cry? Look at mommy's moo-moo-ski looking like a big boy!

Le sigh.

Second. Elizabeth, even though we didn't meet while I was home, I was thinking of you a lot since you're here in Los Angeles. Next time,  I really want to plan to meet for real because you're awesome.

For reals.

Third and last. And the reason for this post:

Just a quick update to those who've email subscribed via the non-working Feedburner. I have done my very, non-technical best to import all of your email addresses into a different subscriber service. I'm using MailChimp -- I have no idea how it will go so don't get too excited. (I am kind of proud of myself, though.) Please holla back and let a sista know if you get here via the subscription I sent. It looks like you'll have to click the link to actually link to the posts, but still, for those who prefer an email, this will hopefully work.

Hopefully.

Fingers, like, super-crossed. And don't forget to hit me back and let me know if this works.

Woot! Woot! (Oh, that's just me celebrating in advance and thinking positive. Because that's what I do.)

***

Clotheslines and vulnerability.

On many days, I'll write something and get so into it. So into that I swear it feels like I'm reliving the experience. I'll ruminate over the details like how someone moved their hands or even the tiniest descriptions because I need that for the picture to be complete. Once I finish, I read it and then reread it. Then I'll laugh or cry or think or just sit in silence. And a lot of times I'll wonder how someone else felt when they read it, too.

This morning I was reading my friend Sister Moon's blog and smiling as she talked about hanging clothes on her clothesline--only to have to take them right down because the lawn was getting mowed. I smiled because of the community the internet creates--one where I can hear all about Sister Moon and the dust kicked up from the Mower-Guy. I have never hung any clothes on a clothesline. Or anything for that matter. Then again, maybe I have hung a few things out there. This blog is a bit of a clothesline, wouldn't you say?

This morning I was just thinking to myself. . .sometimes it feels a little funny to hang your emotions and thoughts out on that metaphorical clothesline. Your deepest feelings waving in the wind like unmentionables clipped on with clothespins. Moments of your life and the lessons nestled inside of it all at risk for getting covered with the Mower-Guy's dust.

It's kind of vulnerable sometimes.

Hearing from people sometimes takes a bit of that angst away. Sometimes.

You know what? Yesterday I read this post on a fashion blog that I read sometimes. It was literally a few sentences about a pair of strappy sandals and a sundress followed by several pictures of the author modeling them both. Within twelve hours it garnered 90 comments. Wow.

And at first I was like, "Really?" but then the more I thought about it the more I realized that this fashion blogger was hanging a bit of herself out on that clothesline, too. One thing she has to know for sure by now though is that those sandals were a good choice. Ha.

What am I even talking about? I don't know. I'm actually sitting in a hotel lobby at a medical conference. I'm waiting around and using the insanely expensive WiFi I paid for up until the last minute before I have to go and give my two lectures. Well, one is just a workshop and the other is a lecture. Hell, you get the picture.

Anyways. I hope you can see how much of my heart I put on that clothesline. I just want us to think and feel together and to be a bit of an empathic community of sorts. That's my goal.

I know, I know. Many of you are silent readers. I see the traffic which is steady and telling; somebody is reading and then coming back. And I appreciate that. But sometimes? I'd love to know what you think. I really would.  Not necessarily every day. But sometimes.

I'd probably be weirded out by 90 comments in 12 hours. In fact, I know I would. So on second thought? Just consider this a pathetic ramble. 

Oh and don't worry. I love writing enough to do it no matter what. But today? This has just one of those vulnerable days, that's all. 

***