Last Thursday was a good day. A really good day. And it had me mildly hopeful that the last 30 days - which I called The Really Dark Period and which most everyone else simply referred to as September - were finally coming to an end and I could refocus on forward motion.  Part of forward motion means writing again. And while there are so many things I'd like to say, I've been sitting at my laptop for half a day struggling to get any of it out. 

For example - I'd like to tell you about going to the Cleveland County Fair last week with Lilsaej and Pixie.  I'd like to tell you about the fried pickle chips and vinegar fries we did eat and the pimento cheese fritters we missed (because we were full of fried pickle chips and vinegar fries and sausage and corn dogs and...).

I'd like to tell you about the pig races and being passed over for Head Pig Rooter of our cheering section FOUR times as well as Honory Pig Queen. This all despite the fact that Pixie and I both thought that I "connected" with the announcer when I smiled and politely asked for pig ears (because really - a tiara is simply not an appropriate accessory for pig races):


I'd like to tell you about carnies and the fact that they really are their own breed.  I'd like to share my philosophy on riding rides that get assembled "day of" (and may very well be held together with duct tape) as opposed to riding rides that are cemented into the ground - like nature intended.   

I'd like to tell you about how much fun Bingo is (even though I never win) and about winning Fat Albert when a little white rat crawled into a hole marked pink:


Meet Sir Fat Albert of Clevelandshire aka Fat Albert. Isn't he cute?

But I don't really know what to say.

I should really tell you about the Komen Race because so many of you supported me.  I finished in 27:45 - one of my worst ever 5K times and a real disappointment. Then again - no one told me about the hills and none of my training involved inclines. Then again - no excuses. Then again - I raised $1190 - isn't that what matters?

I'd like to write about my fabulous weekend in the Big City with The Realtor and helping her look after The Banker's & The Architect's children, including Boy Wonder. Boy Wonder is 12yo and he spent Friday night with me and The Realtor having a swanky tapas dinner and then attending the opening of the new Mint Museum.  Most 12yo boys I know are into fast food and video games. Boy Wonder? Well he's just the coolest and The Realtor and I agreed he was more of an adult than most adults we spend time with.

The whole weekend was fabulous including sitting outside in the sun at Starbucks and reading magazines followed by sophisticated glasses of wine at the wine bar and then much-needed mani-pedis.  I explored 2 new neighborhoods this weekend and got to see a side of the Big City that I rarely see.  It makes moving there down the road more compelling.

I'd like to write about all of this but I can't. I don't know how.  The words aren't coming to me, the sentences aren't forming.  Other than to tell you that I did all of this, I don't really know what else to say because I am blocked.

So while The Really Dark Period does seem to be fading behind me, I still need some time to find my voice again. 


I'm glad the light is finding you this month. Perhaps because you look so damn good in pig ears!


It occurs to me that perhaps writing style- plus all the appurtenances like where and when to write, the tools with which you write, and the subjects which you're inclined to address- may undergo a metamorphosis corresponding with your own metamorphosis. And change can be uncomfortable or at least bewildering. Might this in part account for your block? Cause here's the deal- you're breaking through the block now! Welcome back!!!

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