So this blog thing has been lying around, under utilised, undone for far too long. But I miss musing. I miss writing, even if the only people who ever read it are my family, my husband and my mother’s friends.
There’s been a lot of talk in the blogging world about slow blogging this year. Thoughtful, considered articles. Fewer comments. More substance. I like this idea. But that feels like quite a high bar.
One of my favourite things are when people I like link to things they like. Maybe I’ll do that. I’ll muse. I’ll link.
A few weeks ago I had the great joy of travelling with three of my greatest friends to Paris for a girls weekend. It was amazing. There was time for late dinners and too much wine and wandering home enjoying the Paris summer. Lights on the Seine. It was maybe the closest I’ve ever felt to my pre-mommy days. No one demanding anything. Leisurely lunches. A bike ride to Montmartre. Mid-afternoon, perfectly chilled bottles of rose wine. Croissants, real ones, for breakfast.
Four women, we’ve known each other for the better part of a decade. These are the women who have loved me and prayed me through breakups and falling in love and engagement and marriage and baby. We were all single when we met, we’re all married now. Some of us have babes. Life looks nothing like it did in the beginning. But do you know what? We still laugh the same. I still ache for their aches. They share my joy and sorrow unlike any other. They are my heart flung around this world. And they’ll tell me straight up when my trousers don’t fit properly.
It was a homecoming.
I’m loving this new (to me) podcast Death, Sex and Money. Poignant and vulnerable, it’s people talking about the topics we tend to avoid. Give it a listen. You’ll probably love it too.