A long week has come to an end. How come on the weeks where you feel the busiest, time just seems to come to a halt? Like the big grandfather clock suddenly died and you keep waiting for it to start up again.
Speaking of grandfather clocks....my Grandma Beattie had the best grandfather clock...complete with the bird that would poke it's head out and chirp. It was that really nice rustic brown colour too. For the longest time it was broken, the little bird poked it's head out to chirp and never again hid behind the closed door. Not sure why Grandma never fixed it, but I remember always standing beneath it and watching the little bird; half expecting it to pull a "jack-in-the-box" and suddenly start chirping again. I wonder who ended up with that clock? I would love to find one for my house. And even though I'm 29 now, I'm positive I'll still stand beneath it watching the second hand move, waiting for the bird to chirp. There's something mesmerizing about those clocks. They seem to somehow tell time better than just a digital clock. I think those clocks will always remind me of Grandma B., and therefore always bring a smile to my face.
See. I told you this blog was going to be random. I guess I should stop trying to be less that way and embrace the fact that I write what comes to mind and rarely filter. Maybe that's what this blog is all about? Giving me a chance to let my thoughts roll honestly and freely.