Along with all the other crazy changes that come to my body during pregnancy, my hips are changing enough so that my feet are blistering to accomidate the change in pressure my feet are getting while trying to adjust to a new gait on my morning walks (that was a WORDY sentence, wasn't it?).

So I've started apply bandaids to my toes and heels before I slip on my walkin' shoes each morning in protest. I love walking much more than I hate blisters and sore hips. Found tucked in a tiny pocket of an old purse, I found this quote written on a little piece of paper...

"Above all, do not lose your desire to WALK: Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it...but by sitting still and the more one sits still, the closer one comes to feeling ill...thus, if one keeps on walking, everything will be alright."
--Soren Kierkegaard 1847

I love it. I love walking. Come along if you want.

I'm being chased by subliminal messages everywhere.

Maybe they aren't so subliminal.

Around our home I have spotted three, count them, THREE pairs of wayward panties/big boy pants crumpled in the parking lot, under a tree, or near the swimming pool. Since when did tiny-people underwear start wandering off? Socks, I can understand. But underwear?!

We are determined to not have two kids in diapers and though the months are somehow zipping by, my son's determination/willingness/interest/desire to be potty trained comes and goes as quickly as the robins outside our window. One day he's nearly potty-pro and the next day he's anything but pro-potty. Sigh.

I have to wonder if perhaps these wayward underpants I keep seeing aren't pairs that belong to little ones such as my son who think they are meant to be thrown OUT like diapers. Isn't it obvious that they aren't since they don't have sticky tabs? Hmm.

Needless to say, big boy pants and potty trips are certainly on my mind.

There are three main places that I receive personal revelation (not the spiritual kind, folks, I'm talking the revealing of personal ah-ha's that clarify things going through my head...although, come to think of it, these places have also been very spiritually clarifying places, too). These places are 1: Beneath the heated flow of my shower head, 2: On a good, long walk/run, and 3: During pillow talk late at night with my eternal cuddle companion.

The other night, as we lay in bed discussing our daily insight and adventures, we started talking about how GOSSIP means different things to different people. I've grown up with the understanding that gossiping was (as the picture above suggests) a way for little snippits of mean information about someone else to be spread to other people/groups who wouldn't otherwise learn the information. The key words for me always were MEAN and SPREADING---like nasty tar that makes you and everyone else feel icky around it. If the information is common knowledge and just NEWS (ie. "So and So is having a baby boy!" or "They are moving at the end of the month"), I haven't felt it was "gossip."

But as my hubb and I discussed it, we realized that some people were taught that any talk about anyone, good or bad, news or rumor, true or false, is considered gossip and shouldn't be messed with at all. The Wikipedia definition suggests that gossip is "idle talk or rumour, especially about the personal or private affairs of others. It forms one of the oldest and most common means of sharing (unproven) facts and views, but also has a reputation for the introduction of errors and other variations into the information transmitted." Hmmm. Yes, true.

My hubb and I then discussed how most people talk about other people and what's going on with those around them within most every day conversation. It isn't necessarily degrading or spiteful, just making light conversation and comparing opinion and facts...at least in our case. As we lay there, our "revelation" came as we realized that not everyone was raised with this tar-in-hands picture in their mind when it came to gossip (what a strange concept), that not everyone could agree that light-hearted "news sharing" is harmless, and that the safest bet is to avoid being the initiators and contributors to any kind of negative or uncommon information about anyone we knew to anyone.

We laughed as we snuggled closer listing all the other things we could initiate conversations about...the weather, athletic techniques, types of clothing we like, spiritual insight, economical issues...all things that may start and end a conversation much quicker than talk about people we know...

Yesterday, when I left my babeh at his favorite-place-other-than-home while I went to work, I walked away feeling relieved that he didn't cry as I closed the door behind me and also a little confused at why my bag was so light.

It was then that I realized how much stuff we tote around all day every day to ensure his (our) well being should any circumstance arrise: Diapers and Wipers for a dirty bum, juice or milk in a sippy, a truck or two or maybe a ball, some goldfishies, fruit leather, or pretzels, one or two binkies, a book or two, and somehow an extra pair of shoes always turns up at the bottom of the bag. All that stuff adds up to several good pounds...not to mention MY daily necessities...and when left with a sitter, well, the bag becomes a lot lighter.

I tried to do the traditional "Diaper Bag" thing for a while but learned quickly that carrying a baby, a diaper bag, a purse, and probably a blankie-and-toy wasn't very logical or appealing to onlookers. So, I opted for a not-so-trendy but VERY spacious and VERY useful Hobo bag. I love it. I love how I have to reach in up to my shoulders to find something at the very bottom--the way Mary Poppins did and I love that if we were stranded on a desert island together for an entire day with nothing but my bag, we'd both be perfectly happy.

Its amazing how happy you can be with just a small bag of things useful to you...