What a Difference 12 Weeks Can Make!!!!!
Hello dear readers. Sorry about the lack of posts over the weekend - Meghan and Erin have been busy boneheads. Erin is currently taking a saturday course - it lasts from 9am until 4pm. Bleh! What a way to spend a lovely indian summer day. Meghan, meanwhile, was whooping it up at the Pan Pacific in Vancouver. What a way to spend an autumn weekend. At least one of us was adding good times to the mental mosaic.
Now back to the topic of the passage of time. Check out how much these little pandas changed in twelve weeks:

From embryonic little pink things with no eyes or ears to a recognizable furry little panda.

I wish that every twelve weeks of my life reflected such progress. Sadly that does not tend to be the case. Sigh... Lately I find myself looking to Miss. Meghan as a source of inspiration - she's managed to grow leaps and bounds as of late and is about to head into her twenty-eighth year of life with a pretty sweet mental inventory of wisdom and a VOICE! (Funny fact: Meghan did not speak until she was three. By age four she was in an immersion environment, depsite having only spoken her mother tongue for less than one calendar year.)
I'm starting to feel like I'm treading water instead of swimming ahead. Pehaps my baby sister can share with me Abbey's magic recipe for barfing out a wisdom nugget like this:

I feel like my mental indigestion is has got me stuck in molasses. Arrrghghhhhhh. As a person who shuns change, this is a mondo hurdle. I recently caught a segment of a show called "Clean Sweep" and I felt so so bad for the poor man who was having to throw out his trophy and baseball cap collections. This is not an option for me - either in the material realm or mental realm. Our father is a history teacher and his father is an armchair historian (a smart smart well-read man, even though he did not finish highschool). How does one reconcile a nostalgic disposition with moving forward?! Solutions evade me at the moment. Humph.