I broke 1,000 visits last week.  And maybe it’s because I haven’t seen it before, but that little comma on the counter number adds so much to the once simpler three-digit number. It sexy, or sophisticated, or something.  It’s real.  I’m not gonna lie, I guilt my family and a few friends to visit for a read.  But the truth is, I don’t have that many family or friends to hit this mark.  Someone else is reading.  Someone is sending the link on and others may be landing upon it by chance and staying for a while.  The exhilaration of starting this adventure took a humbling turn, and I am grateful.  In the big bad blogger world, 1,000 is a pretty menial number.  But in my world, there’s magnitude to it’s short breadth.

I like that I have this place, a quasi-tangible storefront to capture the curios of life, placed purposefully on crooked shelves for browsers to stumble upon.  A place to slow me down, focus and pour my being into something that encompasses the ebb and flow of finding balance.  Our life right now, it’s been in bits.  Not to be confused with bits and pieces as so far, we’ve been successful in keeping our inventory of sanity in tact.  The bits, however, are scattered as random as they come.  And though sometimes I may find myself complaining about the lack of time for anything non-productive, I realize it’s this forward momentum that keeps me efficiently chugging along.  But the flow can’t be fueled without the ebb, the equalizing side of balance I often struggle with.  Scott always seems to be the link, showing me the light brilliantly shining through the cracks.  A quiet place of do-nothings reserved just for us.  Without him, I would probably pull out my spackle knife and paste, ready to expunge the white sliver and mark it off the list as yet another item fixed.

We bought the value sized WD-40 in preparation of the turnstile of Springs’ events to begin their movement.  And we opened our season of madness with the wedding of our beautiful friends (and two of the nicest people you will ever know).  Meet Steve and Annie.

Two weeks prior to their wedding her lung popped.  I know what you’re thinking because I thought it, too, and google gave me nothin’. But it’s true, she picked up her bag at work and it popped, leaving her on a pretty unfortunate post-surgery camp-out in the hospital.  And as luck would have it, it was the same weekend that Steve was flying out of the country for his bachelor party.  Apparently the “Slow down, sister!” memo wasn’t coming through clearly.  Instead, she was sent an 18 wheeler to plow right into her chest.  Hey Annie, did you get the message?

But this girlfriend powered through.  And the only people left gasping for air were the neatly lined rows of guests looking upon this gorgeous bride as they exchanged vows against the backdrop of setting sun.

Congratulations to the New Blacks!

You kicked off our season of crazy just right!  And who knew the leftover shades from last years 80’s party, resurrected by a desperate grab into the center console for something to block the sun, would be such a hit!  Yeah, we bring our own props.  That’s how we roll.

I had to include this.  I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know that champagne was most definitely involved!

My door, it’s staying unlocked, greased and ready for-a-swingin’.  That comma?  It says my hinges are getting used well.  And though there are days I feel rusty and void of inspiration to tend to maintenance, my little hut of nicknacks will wait for me.  And I find my own sliver of light in knowing that.

For everyone who’s walked through, for those that stay a while and those on a quick passing, thank you.

Suggested Listening: Movie Loves A Screen / April Smith & The Great Picture Show