It's been a Chinese food evening. Always a good sign around my house: a stress-free change from the ordinary routine. We've now migrated to the couch where Elliot is singing "Revolution" to the Beatles' Rockband karoke graphics and Elliot's brother Quentin (shout out to Uncle Quen! here you are, on my blog Q!) is braving the "hard" level on the guitar. Oops, they just failed. Time to pick a new song.
I, obviously, am observing from the sidelines of the couch. I love these kind of evenings at home, when little girls are asleep and visitors feel welcome and we're all enjoying a little down time. The truth is, I've been stressing for a week now over what to write in my next post for this blog, and although I've had a number of ideas, I haven't found the time to actually sit down and formulate them into any sort of skilled writing. My self-inflicted guidelines for this blog included posting only mini-essays of a literary sort -- and yes, you could possibly read that as too-many-words, not-enough-pictures, and way-too-serious -- but it's the type of product I feel comfortable reading myself and would like to see more of in the blog world. But a side effect of this guideline is that I have now become a slave to my mini-essays, and my simple ideas -- which might have merit simply as undeveloped ideas -- never get voiced because I don't have the time or energy to develop them.
So here's a post to honor Chinese food night in my home, a simple, unprofound moment that brings me happiness although undeveloped into a larger thesis. And hopefully this post is the beginning of your hearing more from me in the future: on those evenings when I don't have enough energy to present my most impressive writing, I'll at least try to share a little something of me.
Wow, Quen just answered his cell phone and continued rocking the guitar to "Back in the USSR". That simple fact may have given you more insight into my home this evening than any profound essay would have.
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