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Showing posts from October, 2013

If you're lost and alone or you're sinking like a stone, carry on...

{things on thursday}

Stuff on Saturday

The crap I'm writing about at 10:59pm on Sunday.

There we go.

The past few weeks have been full of nonsense. There have been so many times that I wanted to sit and write, but I either felt too stilted, too tired, or just plain didn't care. It hasn't been a stellar time lately, and it would be so easy to just sit down and pour out sentences filled with woe. I could work the whole "It's my blog and I'll bitch if I want to" angle and let it all out.

But so much of it is just nonsense. Bickering with Pete as we try to get through this whole working-out-our-marriage thing. Trying to find an evenness in my baby, who has been so manic and disorganized lately. Just trying to live. The living is just so damn hard sometimes.

This past Friday, we lost a friend of mine to a rare form of leukemia. She gave it a long, hard fight but, in the end, her body just wore out. Dominica was a friend of mine, and she had a family around her …

I must be one of the wonders, God's own creation...

{stream of consciousness}

I feel like I should note that I have been trying to write this post for over a week now. I write, reflect, erase, shut the computer, come back, repeat. I have been trying to convey just how emotional, how special a quick moment was for me, and I keep missing the mark. So I am just going to write and not worry and just try to get this down on paper the screen.

A few Fridays ago, I saw the future. Kind of.

I had been having a rough week, so when my dear friend Michelle said she was free for coffee while PJ was at school, I jumped at the chance. A good chat with a great friend at our favorite hangout seemed like a recipe for a better mood. We sipped our coffee and talked about our babies and laughed over gossip and I felt my soul easing up a bit and my mood lifting.

When our coffee was done, we gathered up our things to leave. As we walked to the door, I saw a familiar face out of the corner of my eye, someone I could tell was tall even though she was sitting d…

...and ain't this position familiar, darling?

{and then she spewed out a bunch of random crap...}

...We just got back from spending a weekend in the Poconos. Pete's parents own a little house in a very pretty mountain community, so earlier last week, when we realized that we had a three-day weekend looming ahead, we decided to make our way upward. 
The weekend was very relaxing- we took PJ to the pool, did some outlet shopping (Holy. Holiday. Shopping. Crowds. Never again.Plus, some of my clutch stores yielded an uncharacteristic lack of things for PJ), took walks and played on the back deck where PJ happily shoved crispy leaves through the gaps in the wood. On our second night there Pete and I watched the movie "42". I was a little nervous about letting Pete pick out another movie with a number in the title after the "Movie 43" mess I had to sit through, but this movie was very, very good. All in all, it was low-key and mellow, a change of scene my little family needed. It's still a little awkward and…

Have I said too much? There's nothing more I can think of to say to you...

The other morning, over Nutella french toast, Pete and I had a conversation about my blog. Or, rather, the conflict that my blog presents. But more on that in a second.

Why do I have this blog? I am honestly not entirely sure. I have been "blogging" for a long time, before the term became popular. I had enjoyed writing my whole life, but never kept a diary- that is, until I realized that I could type much faster then I could write, allowing me to keep up with the flow of my thoughts with much more ease. Almost five years ago, I switched blog hosts and moved to this little space, and found a tiny little group of readers who somehow stumbled here. I've met some amazing women and made some real connections. People who have never laid eyes on me or my little family were among the first to reach out when I talked about PJ's diagnosis of Autism, of how hard it was to put him on the bus that first day of school. Who offered real words of support and love when I wrote about …