Oh, Oh Open Your Arms my Lovely Sneeze

(thanks thanks jenna, for the lovely photo)

I suppose, before I explain my delicious picture of the day, I should apologize for already "breaking up" with my lovely Sneezeeweed. It has been almost a month since I posted and yes, I know that that sneaking away in the middle of the night from my ever so loyal blog was incredibly rude. But I was frustrated. Two posts in and I started to think "who is going to want to read this crap?" And then, somehow, I got two answers. The first, I thought of all on my own. It was the type of answer that a loving mother would give to her twelve-year-old child who goes to school with her pants pulled too high clutching a Hello Kitty lunch box. It goes something like- "It doesn't matter who wants to read your blog hunny, as long as writing it makes you happy. Don't listen to what those other internet savvy kids have to say (or not to say)." Well that answer felt to me, the same way it feels to that poor twelve-year-old. Like a pile of crap. So, I continued to venture through the night, sans blog, toward some other unknown- yet mystifying- creative outlet. The second answer I got was much more reassuring, and it came to me right over the very fondue pot in the image. I went over to a friends house for dinner, and by the time we started dessert the conversation turned to old times and old loves. Mine being writing. And right there, as I popped one more guiltless chocolate-dripping blackberry into my mouth, Bridget said "Ashley, you should start a blog. I'd read it. I miss reading your writing." There you have it, those three words had me running back to the cozy bed in my glowing house all snuggled up with my dear Sneezeweed, apologizing over and over for sneaking out in my bunny slippers. "I'd read it." It seemed to be enough, having just one person remotely interested in my tiny corner of self discovery. And here I am, back to smelling the flowers and ogling at the sky.

Coming home after our dinner on a high of fondue and nostalgia, I couldn't stop thinking about how sweet life with old friends really is. We sit and reminisce about the past (past teachers, past curfews, and past adventures) and we fantasize about the future (future homes on the vineyard, future dream careers, and future adventures). But the sweetest part of sitting around a big fondue pot with old friends are the moments when there is chocolate dripping down each of our chins and we each let out a little giggle, and say nothing at all. The sweet moments when we are there, in the moment. There is no past and there is no future, there is only that instant around that very fondue pot. And do you know what I do when I find myself in such a moment? I think: "damn, I am so lucky." Lucky that I get to sit around and eat fondue on a rainy Sunday evenings, lucky that I have a knack for nailing that perfect combination of blackberries and chocolate, lucky that I can appreciate such a perfect moment, and lucky that I have such wonderful old friends to share it all with.

So I am back, all curled up with my lovely Sneezeweed, ready to appreciate every chocolate-dripping-blackberry moment that life sends my way.