This project has been more of a struggle than either one of us would have imagined, I believe. The light at the end of the tunnel, in regards to the effort that the site requires, in the way of planning, and acting, is that it has forced us to work better together, and to communicate better to each other. We have had multiple arguments at one time or another about who was supposed to be taking pictures, and whose fault it was that none got taken on a particular day. The site is genuinely a microcosm of our marriage. It takes effort from both of us to succeed. When issues arise, the better that we communicate with each other, the better that they’re handled. We’re in it together.

That doesn’t mean that we still don’t argue about certain aspects of the site. She scolds me at times for not putting in enough effort, or not taking the initiative in regards to taking pictures, every day. I get upset sometimes about her picture choices, or her titles, and I can get just as upset as she can if a day gets missed. It’s interesting though, in those times when we do see quite a few pictures get taken in a particular day, or on a particular weekend, to see which pictures that she thinks should be representative of that day. Do you choose the picture that is most descriptive of the events occuring, or do you choose one that highlights moods or feelings about those activities, or do you go for the most beautiful, even if it’s non-descriptive. Those days, though, are rare.

Most days, we just like to take pictures of our cat.

However, one design that did remain was the original blog design, sans images. The reason that this design shows up is because it was all coded within individual pages, or at least using software templates, so that the design is hard coded into the page. As I looked through the old pages, two things stood out to me more than others.

First thing being the level of effort that I put into those first pages and designs. The effort that I put into, and the passion that I have for site creation and design today, pales in comparison to those very first days. In those days, I updated everything by myself. By Hand. IN THE SNOW, BOTH WAYS. Now, Wordpress does almost everything, from the posting, to the updating of books I’ve read, to the About Me, and Frequently Asked Questions pages. Now I post all of my images to Flickr, and link to them in my posts; Back then I uploaded and created a new page for each individual set of pictures. I updated what I was reading, watching, and listening to by hand coding those sections, each time I picked up a new book, or switched to a new program. Even the post comments required a separate application.

If I had to do today, what I did back then, to get the bones of this site up and running, I wouldn’t have a site, plain and simple. I’ve told The Wife this story many times, but back when I was living alone for the last time in my one bedroom bachelor pad in Old Town, I would spend entire weekends sitting on the couch, tweaking little bits of code in every corner of the site, making minor changes that only I could have possibly noticed, and thinking that it was the most important thing in the world that I got it right. I would come home on Friday afternoon, and get on the computer. I would pry myself away about dinner time, and go grab Chinese food, and two or three DVDs, and go home, and get right back on the computer. And then about midnight, or sometimes as late as 1:00 AM, I would head to 7-11, and grab a couple of Red Bulls, and another pack of cigarettes, come back home, and start watching the movies, never really paying attention because my head was buried in the computer again. Bed time was 4:00 or 5:00 AM, sometimes sunrise, and then I’d wake up mid-afternoon,  to do it all again, with the leftover Red Bull and Sesame Chicken. Looking back on it now, it was a little  sad, and a lot unhealthy, to be so closed off to everything else, but I’m also happily nostalgic about it, because it is was so exhilarating, creating something, on your own, for the first time.

Secondly, I notice the writing. I am always my own harshest critic when it comes to my writing. Looking back, I see the same problems that I’ve always had when writing, which is finding my voice, and feeling comfortable writing about topics that are relevant to me and interesting to the people that read my site, few that they may be. It’s a constantly frustrating task to feel confident that what you write is important enough for others to take time reading. Picking through older posts on the Wayback Machine, though, you ican see that same tone and insight in some of my posts that I hope I have begun to use more frequently over the last five years. And I also wonder about some of the ‘series’ that I wrote so long ago, and if they would have caught on if I had continued on with them. My weekly SEC Football Picks every fall were the biggest deal to me back then, but Southbound Home’s Friday Word of the Day could have become pretty popular if I’d given it the chance. Right? One last thing that I did notice, though, is that I seemed to be much angrier back then, and I don’t know why. There were quite a few hostile rants about football, work, and current events in the news. Because of that, and the happiness that I currently have, it’s nice to look back every once in a while, but the past will likely stay in the past.

We both enjoy the art of amateur web design, and at some point the conversation moved in that direction. There’s really nothing I’d rather talk about sometimes, and today was one of those days. I complimented him on some of his recent work, and he gave me a compliment on this site. Specifically, he complimented my content, my writing, which I’ve struggled with for quite some time, and of which I am constantly critical, and rarely proud. I appreciated very much the compliment on my content. It’s something I’ve tried really hard to attain, and I’ve never really felt completely comfortable in the words that I string together on the site, and so it was nice to have that confirmation come, without prompting, out of the blue. But, as I said to him, and as I’ll say here again now, if you’ll notice, I’m not able to write that often. I just don’t have time to develop a really quality post more than once or twice a month. In the past, I’ve tried to add in ‘easy’ posts, little quick hitters, to keep the site fresh, and relevant, and that’s all fine and good, but I have always wanted my content to be more than just my daily activities, because honestly, I’m an accountant. It’s not really noteworthy, most of the time ever. So I try to take my time, and develop content that feels important, and is worth taking the time to write about.

The problem becomes, if all I’m doing is writing about those things that I find important, I’m considering the wrong audience, aren’t I? And that’s why I get e-mails from friends, asking me about how I’ve been, because they’ve been to the site, and while they now know my feelings on beards, and my strategies for succeeding at work, they don’t really know what’s happening to me, every day.

And as I explained, that’s why I like the idea of having the Twitter feed on the site. It allows for the ability to give more relevent insight into my life, while still allowing me to be patient and take my time with, something that is still very important to me, after all of this time.

I wonder how many other men out there are familiar with, or adhere to, the concept of Winter Beard. Winter beard may have dozens upon dozens of other names or euphamisms that I’m not aware of, but in it’s most basic form is a beard that comes along with the onset of winter, keeping it’s grower warm and toasty on cold days, providing heightened senses of strength and might, and generally enabling the winter bearded to scoff at those whose wilting manliness doth not allow for facial hair.  Winter beard is not to be confused with the female equivalent, Winter Bush (Will…not…post…link…)

Any how, Winter Beard is generally off putting to the ladies. It’s scruffy, and unkempt, and it causes chapped lips, and it reminds the ladies of one more thing that is physically impossible for most of them. Kind of like peeing your name in the snow. In fact, that’s how most Winter Beards are eliminated, at the bequest of a significant other. Here’s the thing, though, The Wife loves the Winter Beard. Loves it. Likes to scratch it, and touch it, and groom it, like we’re a pair of silver backs in the Congo.

I’ve tried to come up with a reasoning for this behavior.  I think it’s due to the fact that during the key stage of Winter Beard, the molting stage, The Wife was out of town on business. The molting stage is generally the stage when girlfriends, wives, mothers, et al. grow tired of winter beard; it is at it’s most scraggly and unkempt, before it blossoms into the soft, downy bed of straw that we all know and love. She missed this stage, and once she returned, the manstache was feathery soft, drawing her in like a sale at Macy’s.

So now I’m faced with a new, uncharted dilemma; trying to find an exit strategy for Winter Beard. I’m wondering if there might be some specific calendar date, or tempature threshold at which the grisly attache is no longer allowed. Any insight from the masses is much appreciated.

I don’t really feel the need here and now to discuss my mastery of the mathematical component of the ‘Three R’s’. I believe my choice of profession speaks to my competence in that arena. I have wanted, though, for quite some time, to try and write about my appreciation for the tasks of reading and writing, not just for the purpose of gaining knowledge, or advancement of professional career, but for the sheer enjoyment of them.

I have always been a reader. I will read just about anything, and there exists much evidence to prove that statement true, as well. I enjoy the knowlege that newspapers, magazines, or journals bring, but most of all, I like entertaining, well-written stories, whether they be fictional or true. I very much enjoy the path that a good writer can and will take a reader down, as he weaves a story, and creates a picture in our minds using on words. I like the feeling of not wanting to put a good book down, reading just one more chapter, until you look up, and it’s 3:00 AM, and you’ve gotten to the last page. When it comes to fiction, good writers tell a story in intricate detail, but great authors know what details to leave out, allowing the imagination of the reader to fill in the final details, making the story individual to everyone who reads it.

The idea of such a thing fascinates me, and the desire to effect others as I’ve been effected by the great writers that I’ve had the pleasure of reading has always led me to want to write a book of my own. I’ve even developed a few ideas myself, and want to attempt to document them here for the first time; in part, to move them out of my own mind and onto or into some form of media for archival purposes, but also in the hopes that someone more knowledgeable than I am in regards to writing fiction might lend their insight to the development of my ideas. With nothing further to add, I include both outlines for critique here:

Story Outline #1

The first idea for a fictional work that I’ve rolled around in my head involves a man returning to his small southern home town, which he hasn’t visited in quite some time. He arrives with little more than the car that he’s driving, the clothes on his back, and a duffel bag, the contents of which are initially unknown, but which we soon find out is filled with cash. The last time that most of his family saw him was at his wedding, but when he returns to town, his wife is not with him. He takes up in the local motel, even though his mother, a typical southern matriarch (A wise caretaker, with a dash of crazy), and his sister, both live in the town, and can accomodate him. Throughout the course of the story, we find out that the man’s wife has died. The story would examine the man’s relationship with his family, and how he deals with his own loss, though the course of his return to town. The plot would center around the money; where it came from, and what to do with it, and the actions that the man and his family take to resolve both of these things. Ultimately, the book deals with the resiliency of the human spirit, and the different ways in which we can find happiness, and love.

For some reason, as I develop these stories in my own brain, they come with soundtracks; I suppose in preparation for their ultimately successful development as major motion pictures. Go figure. Regardless, I imagine this story with a accompanying soundtrack consisting of tracks by Ben Harper, The Blind Boys of Alabama, The Black Keys, and, quite possibly. The Dixie Chicks. That’s right, the Dixie Chicks.

Story Outline #2

This story involves a man who seems to be living the perfect life. He has a wonderful wife, two or three children, the nice house, and the well paying job. It’s all there for him. Until one day, the man just disappears. Literally, just up and leaves, taking a flight to a small island in the caribbean, without telling his wife, or children, or boss, and without even saying goodbye. The man takes a job on a fishing boat that goes out from the main docks of the small island daily, carrying tourists wanting to haul in big trophy fish, and becomes a regular at a local island bar, which is tended by a crazy, but endearing older woman. If this story was written by Jimmy Buffett, her name would be Esmerelda. In my mind she is as yet unnamed.

Back in the states, the man’s family, led by his previously estranged father, attempt to track him down. His wife is scared for him, but also angry, and isn’t sure she really wants to find him, once her initial shock wears off. The story would examine the complexities of daily life and how they affect our attempts to be happy, and even our percetption of what happiness is, and the conflict hinges on the man’s decision to stay on the island or return to his old life, once he’s been found and confronted by his father, who has his own agenda.

A corporate rock soundtrack, with a pinch of Bob Marley and the Wailers, would be developed for the screen adaptation.

The Decision

Both of these initial ideas have been packed into the dark recesses of my brain for quite some time. I have always said that I want to advance and develop one or both of them further, and to see where things went from there. I have neither the time, nor the abilities to develop both of these story ideas at the same time, so what I would like to see are a few comments about which story seems more interesting, or more capable of being developed into something more substantial.  Discuss.

(Author’s Note: I wrote this post a short while ago, and have been delayed in getting it on to the site, and have since began developing one of these ideas already. However, because I want to get honest opinions about both of them, and because it hasn’t been developed past about one or two chapters, I want to refrain from saying which that I thought was the more interesting idea, and already began to work on. Hopefully, popular opinion matches my own. If not, I may just need to rethink the whole thing.)

But I digress. In regards to buying a house, I have to say, this whole thing was my idea. For quite a while, I had been dragging The Wife to open houses, and scouring the internet looking at properties. Never with much of a plan, mind you, it’s just my nature to want to know everything about everything, and this was no exception.

Ever since we got engaged, she and I have done quite a bit of soul searching; trying to figure out if we want to stay in this city, and if we want to stay in our jobs, or even our careers, and if we want to move, then where, and when, and how, and all the other questions that come along for the ride when such things are being discussed. And often times, when you discuss such things, nothing really happens. You end up having surface conversations, and playing a ‘what if’ game, but making no real decisions, and kind of gliding along, not putting the effort into any one conversation long enough to make a single, true, concrete decision. At least that’s what we did.

Until one day, while looking on the internet, I found an apartment that I really liked. REALLY LIKED. I sent the link to The Wife, who was out of town, and she felt the same way. We decided that we at least wanted to go see it, and so she called her real estate acquaintance, and I went to the bank to get information on pre-approval.

We went and viewed the property, and we liked it very much. We saw a couple of other places, and went on our way. Two days later, though, we looked at each other, and we knew. We wanted it. People always tell you not to buy the first property that you look at, but we didn’t care. I don’t really think that old saying even really applies anymore these days. With the internet, we knew what was out there, in our price range, and in the areas that we wanted to live in. And this was it. The creme de la creme. A diamond in the rough. We spoke with our (now) real estate agent, and decided we wanted to put in an offer, and so we spoke with the mortgage broker. And that’s when the dream died. The property wasn’t FHA approved, which meant that we would have had to put down at least 20% in any offer that we made. Now, I don’t want to get into the fine details of our finances, but I will tell you that we don’t have 20% of the average purchase price in our area to put down. We thought we were doing well to scrape together the FHA-required 3%.

And so we moved on, albeit disappointed. We put together a long list of potentials. Some excited us, most didn’t. Unfortunately, in our area, and in our price range, there still isn’t a ton of available options very close to the city for purchase. Foreclosures gave us more space, or a shorter commute, but also brought with them the risk of unforseen repairs, or hidden damage. We saw a few more apartments, and decided that we were just more comfortable looking at rowhomes, townhouses, and if we could find one on our price range, a single family home. Then The Wife went out of town on business, and we put our looking on hold.

Throughout all of this, she was very hesitant. I don’t blame her; in our relationship, my role has been defined, by me, as jumping our ahead of her, and trying to drag her along into something that she isn’t comfortable with, and her job has been to dig her feet in and resist as long as possible. The results of this arrangement are that I am forced to explain the situation to her in depth, adding to her comfort level, and her resistance allows me to give second and third thoughts to important matters that should probably be getting second and third thoughts anyway, before their endulged. It’s our system, and it works.

I never really felt like she completely bought into the idea of us owning though, with the exception of that first apartment. I, however, continued to scour internet listings, and while she was gone, went to a few open houses, one in an area that we hadn’t even really considered. And of course, that one, I really liked. I told her about it, and told her I wanted our agent to take us there when she returned. And then a contract was signed on it before she even got back. However, we continued to to look in the area when she got back. I showed her one more open house in the neighborhood, and while it wasn’r right for us, she liked the neighborhood, and the layout of the houses, which were pretty much all the same.

And then we found it. I saw it online first, and I wasn’t sure how I’d missed it. I found it on a Sunday night, and it had been open that day for viewing, and we had been in the neighborhood, but not known about it. From the moment I saw the first pictures, I knew we would both like it.

And we did. Our agent showed it to us a few days later. I got there before she did, and knew before she arrived that she’d want it. We made an offer the next day, and two days later, we had a contract. And while settlement was long, and stressful, and there were some unexpected bumps in the road, we got moved in on time.

And now I’m scared to death. We have poured over our finances, and I know in and out our payment schedule, for both this mortgage and our other debts, and our time frames for payment, and our monthly budget, and how much we have to spend, at any given moment, every day. I’m still nervous though. With everything in the news today, about the housing market, and the economy in general, it’s hard not to be.

For now though, everything is good. We’re slowly getting moved in for the holidays, and tonight we’re going to have dinner with our real estate agent and their family, which is the connection that lead us down this whole path. And afterwards, we’ll go home.

Ingredients

• 3 Cups Quaker Old Fashioned Grits
• 7 Cups Water
• 12 Oz. Velveeta Cheese, Cubed
• 4 Tbsp. Butter, Cubed
• 2 Tsp. Poppy Seeds
• 1 Lb. Small Shrimp, Cooked and Peeled
• 1 Half, Sweet Onion, Roughly Chopped
• 4 Oz. Sweet Peppadew Peppers, Roughly Chopped
• 4 Oz. Small Mushrooms, Whole
• 6 Strips Thick Cut Bacon
• 1 Bunch Green Onions/Scallions
• 1 Tbsp. Olive Oil
• 1 Tsp. Ground Cayenne Pepper
• Kosher Salt, To Taste

Instruction

Boil the water for the grits in a large saucepan, making sure to salt the water once it boils, and then let it return to a rolling boil. Stir in the grits, and lower the burner to a medium-low heat, and cook for about 12-14 minutes, covered, and stirring occasionally. In a medium-sized skillet, cook the bacon to extra crispy, and then set aside. Add the olive oil to the skillet, mixing with the bacon grease. Add the chopped sweet onion to the skillet, and saute until thoroughly cooked, then lower the burner to a medium-low heat. In a bowl, mix shrimp with the cayenne pepper and kosher salt, and add to the skillet, along with the chopped peppadew peppers, and mushrooms, continuing to saute on low heat. Once the grits have cooked, add the Velveeta cheese, butter, and poppy seeds to the saucepan, making sure to distribute evenly throughout the dish, and continue to stir until completely melted. Roughly chop the bacon.

Serve the dish by spooning a portion of the grits into an individual serving bowl, or high-rimmed plate. Spoon a fair portion of the shrimp mixture onto the top of the grits, and garnish with bacon, and chopped scallions, as shown above. Recipe makes 8-ish servings.

Notes

Everyone in the south has a shrimp and grits recipe; this is mine. Over the years the recipe has evolved based on mine and other opinions and tastes. A good shrimp and grits recipe is solidly built on attention to the basics, but stands out based on the details. For my recipe, that means the poppy seeds in the grits, and the sweet peppadew peppers, as well as the use of a sweet onion, instead of a yellow or white, in the shrimp mixture. As complicated as the ingredients list and instructions seem, this really is a pretty simple low country dish that can be put together in twenty minutes, or less. And, if I’m being completely honest, I generally buy my shrimp pre-cooked and peeled. I’ve found that sauteeing the pre-cooked shrimp mixture on a low enough heat can still bring the flavor out without overcooking the shrimp. But, if you’re serving to southerners, be careful not to burn them. There are some things that we just won’t tolerate.

In all honesty, The Wife and I were delighted to get out into a really beautiful area of land with a lot of good friends, and our only real gripe is that we don’t get weekends like that more often. We have, quite literally, been looking forward to camping since the day that we got back from the honeymoon, and we weren’t disappointed.

We were both able to work from home on Friday, which allowed us to head out a little early on Friday afternoon, and we were second to the site. Our new tent, which was one of our favorite wedding gifts, was up in no time flat, and we were able to get down to some real live camping. And once again, by camping, I mean sitting around drinking, discussing who should start a fire, and waiting for everyone else to show.

On Saturday we actually slept in a bit, but were awoken to glorious bacon, eggs, and coffee straight off the campfire. Our big event of the day was a rock scramble to the top of a small peak that afforded 360 degree views. Regrettably, but understandably, if you know me, I wasn’t able to make it all the way to the top, due to a gut-wrenching, cringe-inducing, COMPLETELY RATIONAL fear of heights. Pictures looked cool, though. And I was lucky enough to split my pants on a sharp rock on the way back down, so that TOTALLY made up for not getting to be in the cool picture.

We made it through the remainder of the weekend without incident, and headed out on Sunday wanting for nothing, save that we could come back sooner, and more often, than we have to date. I can’t really put into words what it is that I like so much about camping. You go out and drink beer, and cook on fire, and sleep on the ground, and it’s rough, and rocky, and you smell bad, and then you come home and you smell like smoke for a week.

I will say this though. Camping in Shenandoah National Forest, with the mountain views, and the fall foliage, will take your breath away. On Skyline Drive, you look around, and you take it all in, and you know that there is a God. It is that beautiful, and that big, and that full of everything that we don’t get to see enough of when we fall into the daily grind of life.

I’ve told The Wife, I want to come back more often, but more than that, I want to do more, to go further, to camp harder. The Appalachian Trail runs through Shenandoah National Forest, and I want to hike it, at least a portion of it. She balks at the thought of such an idea, but someone will take me up on it. I think my best chance is my brother-in-law. Maybe my sister, my niece, my nephew and The Wife can come up and spend a few nights at a lodge somewhere on Skyline, while he and I hit the ‘AT’ for a mile, or two, or a hundred.

This past weekend, The Wife and took some time to head downtown, to do some sightseeing. The Smithsonian Institute is currently hosting an touring exhibit displaying some famous works of Jim Henson’s, and we wanted to go see that while its in town, but I also wanted to take her to the Museum of National History, because for as long as she’s been in the city, she has never been. Such a travesty got us to thinking about the things that we’ve gotten to do while living in such a wonderful city, and those things that we haven’t done yet. We put together a bit of a bucket list for Our Nation’s Capital, of things we feel should be taken advantage of while we still live here. Such things as…

1. Smithsonian Museum of Natural History
2. Smithsonian Museum of American History
3. Smithsonian Air & Space Museum
4. Smithsonian Institution - Jim Henson’s Fantastic World
5. Mount Vernon
6. International Spy Museum
7. Newseum
8. Lincoln Memorial
9. Jefferson Memorial
10. Washington Monument
11. Vietnam Memorial
12. World War II Memorial
13. Tour the White House
14. Cherry Blossom Festival
15. Ice Skating in the Sculpture Garden
16. Arlington National Cemetary
17. Paddle-boating on the Tidal Basin
18. The National Archives (Declaration of Independence, Constitution)
19. Chinatown Bus to NYC for the weekend
20. Take the Acela to NYC for the weekend
21. Weekend Getaway at The Inn at Little Washington

Before you start to asking, we’re not going anywhere yet. We have no immediate plans for leaving the area, but I think that both of us would agree that we won’t be here in this area for the rest of our lives. And so, while these things aren’t dire, we do want to be reminded of them. If anything, it helps us to remember to enjoy ourselves now, while we can, because we shall never know, even as new opportunities open new doors, what doors they may in turn close. Some of these things we may have a chance to do again some day, if we do leave this place, either by revisiting old friends, or by vacationing with our children, or in some other heretofore unthought of occurence. Some though, must be taken advantage of while we’re here.

And so we’ll keep this list, as a reminder. Less for others to read, than for us, to remind ourselves, and to remember those times, that we took advantage of the greatness of our lives together.

For literally months prior to our wedding day, she had talked about how wonderful her gift to me would be, and how excited I would be for it. I had made many guesses as to its identity prior to the big day, to no avail. I suspected a camera early on, because we had discussed getting ourselves one as a mutual gift to each other, but that had fallen by the way side, due to her constant protestations against it.

So when the gift was brought to me, by, I don’t even remember whom at this point, it came with two envelopes, one containing a card to read before the gift was opened, and one to read after. The first card said all the things that you’d expect a card from your future spouse to say on your wedding day, and ended by telling me that the time was here, and that I would now be allowed to open the gift that sat in front of me. And with that, wrapping paper was shredded and flung, and my eyes gazed upon the most wonderful gift I’d ever seen.

In all of the commotion that occurred after I opened our new camera, plugging in attachments, and cleaning lenses, and taking pictures, I almost forgot to open the second envelope. When I finally did, though, and when I read what the entirety of my gift entailed, the thought excited me. For the time being though, I put it into the back of my mind, and went about the remainder of the business of being wed. And now here we are.

Almost one month later, and I still very much love the idea of our little project. And I love my wife for trusting me enough to let me create a new design, and a new web address for our project, even though she had gone to quite the trouble of already preparing a site. I love the look of the site, and wouldn’t have been as excited about this whole thing if it hadn’t meant for me a chance to take on one more personal design. I’ve actually heard her agree, too, but I’ll have good luck on the day that I can get her to admit to a third party that I’ve done it right. Once again, though, I digress.

While the blog has been exciting, it has brought about some interesting situations. For instance, on certain days, we tend to get in a rut, performing the same tasks for days at a time, and making the prospect of a unique, and interesting picture a daunting task. This has not hampered us all that much to date, but I trust if we give it time this will be the case. A year is a long period of time, and we’re typically not that interesting to begin with. On the other hand, though, on those days where there is a lot going on in our lives, and there have been more of those than normal so far, it becomes difficult to decide which in a very large group of pictures to choose as representative of the entire days’ activities. And finally, there’s always the idea sitting in the back of my head that I need to save certain shots that I know I can take at any time, for days when I really need them.

For instance, about three weeks back, I took a picture of our cat one morning, which turned out really well, and which became the picture that we used for that particular day. However, I knew, and still know, that I can take a picture of the cat any day, if I need to. And that probably won’t be the last time she shows up on the site. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think, “Save that shot for another day, when you might really need it, you’ve got all day to find another shot for today!” And that’s what makes this whole thing interesting, in my opinion, is those types of situations. That, and trying to see the noteworthy or the beautiful in a place card, or a thank you note, or a pint of ice cream.

So I’ve resigned myself to the fact that while this is the first time that I’ve noted my thoughts about our new project, it most certainly won’t be the last, and so I’ve titled it as such, accordingly. It will be interesting to me to see not only how the photoblog progresses throughout the year, and maybe more, but also how ours and others’ perceptions of it change as more images are posted, and as more images are sought out in our world. I suppose only time will tell.