A Hammock of One's Own

Approaching 40 and becoming a mom can separately and collectively make a girl think, even make her take aim at the neighbor's bird (Mad Men reference). I've been considering how lazy I've been for so much of my life.

When I had all of "that" free time, what did I do? I read, I wrote, I smoked cigarettes (for at least fifteen years). I hung out with friends as we debated God's existence, the necessity of marriage, and how many places we were going to live - still one of the best pastimes ever invented. There were hobbies - painting bottles, refinishing a night table, more painting in various ways. Oh yeah, I dabbled with the guitar, but mostly because I thought it was cool to be the chic who played guitar. Guys definitely liked it, right? Not that I have actual proof. Guys actually loved my guitar, not sure if the fact I was playing had relevance.

OK then, I did some stuff, but mostly in my twenties. My thirties, before baby, were spent working, studying, "disciplining" teenagers, and the big one...falling in love. For several years, when I wasn't working, I was in love. Beautiful love. Silly, ridiculous, don't want to leave the person's side kind of love. Not to say, I am no longer in love, but our hobbies seemed to mesh into a sweet finger hammock, like everything else in our lives.

Now that Asher is here,that lovely finger hammock has taken on a new shape. It brushes the sandy floor, in fact. We can't quite keep all of our fingers locked. One reason I want to sew?

All in all, the re-weaving process has begun. Only, this time, I am creating a hammock of my own.