Author Archives: The Anecdotal Baby

About The Anecdotal Baby

milk-making, blogging, freelance writing momma

BREAKING NEWS…

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The Anecdotal Baby

is moving to it’s new home at http://theanecdotalbaby.blogspot.com
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I’ve been going back and forth trying to make the decision to switch. That is, should I switch from WordPress–which I love for so many reasons–to Blogger?

Because I’m knew to the blogosphere, and not yet as established as I’d like to be, I just can’t see coughing up the dough to pay for my own domain. Unfortunately, WordPress doesn’t allow plugins unless I do so, therefore I’ve had to be creative with my content. Javascript just isn’t an option either and I feel like I’m missing out on so much. Okay, that was a mouthful, but basically it boils down to not being able to use certain cool functions.

After a couple of long days setting up a Blogger site and weighing my options, I’m pulling the plug on the WordPress blog. I will leave it open for the month so that anyone who doesn’t come here regularly will see this announcement and redirect to the new and IMPROVED! site. Feel free to spread the word and change your bookmark!

Thanks for all the love and support thus far. I look forward to seeing you at the new site!

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The Grandfather She’ll Never Know

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Clever, with always the right word.
A jack of all trades, yet the drive to master them.
A public servant.
Friend.
Father.
Husband.
Grandfather.
The man who had everything; who made shopping for a gift for him such a chore!
Physically imposing.
Intelligent.

The day I learned of his death I stood in his office at the home he shared with my mom. His arms wrapped around my cold, shocked body; warming me with every memory. It was the last moment I spent with him… I numbly moved through the motions of preparing a memorial of his life. My mom and I talked about his experiences and wrote his eulogy. It was then that I got a glimpse of how much more there was to the man I knew, but I didn’t really come to know how many lives he touched until the day of his service. There is so much more I could add to the list of the great man I called my dad.

Moving through a fog, I remembered the repetitive phrase mumbled by everyone, “everything happens for a reason,” which was somehow supposed to make sense of such a horrific tragedy. I still don’t think I believe it. I struggled deeply to find meaning in his death, but sometimes $*%t happens; no rhyme, no reason. I can’t make sense of the loss of such a contributing member of society while a repeat drunk driving offender, drug addict, an abusive person, or a psychopath–or whomever the demon is–gets to live inflicting his/her wrath on the world. There is no reason. I think it’s the luck–or misfortune–of the draw.

Two years later to the day, a trial behind us–his murderer convicted–and his first grand-child born, I struggle. I miss him so much. I miss that I can’t ever call him when I need advice. I miss that my daughter will never hear his laugh or see the expression she’s genetically inherited. There is still a hole there. Everyone’s said it gets easier. I don’t believe this either. The birth of my daughter brought so many emotions. His loss has become greater. His absence from her life felt intensely.

 

 

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Sierra Solitude

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I spent a few days in the Sierra’s away from it all. No cell phone, no computer. Just me, the family, and the great outdoors… and a pay phone? Yes, Virginia, they really do still exist.

Pay phone’s aside, the solitude of our summer destination is my much needed, once a year get-away-from-the-trappings of suburban life that gives me time to reflect. Putting the technology I dearly love aside for a while and spending time with my family is especially important now that i have an offspring. It’s never long enough, though. With a packed calendar until the new year, we had to get back to reality. It was fun while it lasted!