Catching up, on how I’m a wuss, and what-have-you.

Hey, there.


Oh, I’ve how missed you all.

How I’ve missed my teensy tiny little old blog.  Where do I start?

It’s been a crazy few months: the never-ending kitchen renovation was completed, officially, last week, praise Jesus. My chronic “seriously-I-don’t-have-the-plague” cough – which is far past tiresome – is finally getting a more serious look by my doctor, as hallelujah, I’ve succeeded in getting someone to move past “it’s just asthma”. You’ll be pleased to learn that it isn’t tuberculosis, lupus, or some other random “weird” disease (don’t you like my doctor’s technical terminology?)

I’ll also confess to a bit of melancholy, cause,  y’all, it’s been harder than I thought to repatriate. Add in the Hubs’ long work hours, his frustrations and stress, and then more work for him to hammer out from the time the kids finally fell in to bed and he did….let’s just say that our own conversations could be pretty limited to the weekends…or at least it felt that way.

It’s all been a bit overwhelming. I guess I’m a bigger wuss than I thought.

But a week or so ago, I had a moment. One of Oprah’s “a-ha” moments, if you will.

See, I had to buy blank assignment notebooks for my 9-year-old, as he is embarking on a journaling project proposed by his teacher on conference night. The kid, he’s growing into a pretty freaking awesome writer.


Looking at those lovely blank notebooks, I felt a tingle, a pull. If you journal, or write, you would recognize the feeling, the lure of crisp, unmarked pages. I needed to write. What the heck was I doing?

It wasn’t that I didn’t have anything to say.

It was just that I needed an attitude adjustment. And a shitload of editing.

With the completion of the kitchen and most of our other major projects, I feel free. Free-er. I swore to myself that for the ENTIRE month of November, I was only going to go to the gym, do the basic household cleaning/shopping/laundry….and sit on the sofa and catch up with 4 months of untouched magazines, and get back to writing.  I WOULD re-establish a routine. A semi-slug like routine, damn it, but a routine nonetheless.

But….as someone once told me,

“if you want to make God laugh, just make plans.”

So far, I only have the gym and household crap under control, as life took another wonky turn.

And that’s ok. We’re ok.

And as I watch my son happily write away in his notebook every night, I have to say I’m inspired, too.



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