Far, far away

I may not have the money or the time to physically travel to exotic places, but I recently discovered a blog from such a place, a heady mix of photographs and poetic writing, "the bemused tales of an American family's quest to build a guest house in Marrakesh."

Quote of the moment

"... it's not like it's my job to go around remembering things. Wait, maybe it IS my job! AUGH I DON'T REMEMBER!"

-from this webcomic that I stumbled across


I feel like this most of the time; it is in fact my job to remember things like what I did the day before, and where I put the thing that goes beep, and what I'm supposed to do next. Anyone who knows me well enough to read this blog knows that memory has never been my strongest point, but motherhood has caused me to sink to new lows. I keep wondering if, unbeknownst to me, some large portion of my brain has devoted itself to making my offspring grow properly through sheer force of will.