Why is Devon writing The Green Notebook?

Two reasons. Mostly. I have a blog--The Yellow Notebook--but have noticed that blogs with specific goals seem to shine. So I decided that I would blog about the next two-and-a-half years as we work REALLY hard at squeezing my husband through nursing school while randomly making money, consistently saving ourselves money, raising small children, writing a novel, dealing with the current economy, trusting God and deepening our friendships, et al. Watch the balancing act! Also, my friends have been complaining that blogs tend to be, well... life edited. So I am going to try NOT to edit out the things that make us a real family with real financial and other struggles. And in this ring...

By the way, I have not named my children "Boy" and "Girl." I just like to refer to them that way on the blog. I also refer to my nephew as "Baby."

And here is my tagline:
What economy? Or Diary of a Young, Urbanite, Apolitical, Lower-Income, Middle-Class, Writer, Foodie, Artist, Stay-at-Home Mom.

*If you want to know our story and the protracted story of this blog, see the entry from January 17, 2010, titled appropriately "Our Story."





Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Don't Panic

You must choose one of the following and only one:

A) Miss the exit next time you want to leave the freeway.
B) Cause a gruesome accident in which you lose both your legs and kill a small child in another car.

As far as I can tell, this is the multiple choice that someone has been given, and it might just be someone near me, next time. Nearly every day I am in contact with some driver who suddenly realizes that they are in the wrong lane for a turn or a merge and--instead of gracefully dealing with it--they panic. People are that harried, that frenzied, these days that they routinely put their safety and the safety of those around them in jeopardy for something as simple as a missed exit. Really? When did it become so important to hit that right turn that we were willing to gamble our health and lives on it as we skid across two lanes, merge without looking, or slam a sudden lucy without signalling? And what is so very frightening about missing the turn? Are a lost couple of minutes that terrifying--or perhaps that precious--that we will reclaim them at all costs?

Let me propose something revolutionary; not only are those lost minutes not worth our health, safety, and the safety of those around us, but in finding the peace and grace it would take to absorb the incident, I think we would find much more than just a few lost minutes. We might even find an adventure.

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