Ben D, Traci, and me

Had a good Easter with the family. The name of the third boy has now been changed to Benjamin Davis, so that he can be called by my late maternal grandfather’s name, Ben D. For the record, “Ben” was not short for anything, it was just “Ben.” “D” was not short for anything either. “D” was literally his middle name, as his mother was from the country and had always heard people referred to by their first name then a single letter.

Landon continues to be a mess. By looking at him, you can already tell that he is up to something, and that something may not be something good. He is a little white ball of mischief and poop.

I have a friend that was in Athens for four years and moved away last year. We never really had much of anything to do with each other when she lived here. Now that she is some 500 miles away, it has become clear that we actually have a lot in common. How convenient. In any case, our conversations have become a valuable part of my daily routine, and I am glad she makes herself available to listen and talk.

Change seems to be all around. Some of it I like, and some of it confuses and frustrates me. My blog is titled what it is for a related reason. I can’t count the number of times I have heard the phrase “I wish I didn’t care so much” being used to paint a very emotional person as some sort of social martyr. There’s nothing noble about that at all. There is something to be said for minding your own business, I’m just not very good at it. I hope that doesn’t make me expendable. For every snag it causes, it most certainly provides benefits as well. I'm sure it's awfully easy to forget, though, when it’s getting on your nerves.