Sometimes I come back.

We are in the thunder and lightening days of summer. It has been nearly three months since I wrote a thing other than a grocery list. There are many excuses. Aren't there always? Some things that were hard. Some things I made harder. A blank page was just one more thing I met with uncertainty. And avoidance. Poor, much loved, much helped, little girl. Honestly, it all seems a little bourgeois to me now.

Time to wake up, and get to work.

Briefly, before I begin again,

the summer...

There were kebabs and dance parties and fresh tomatoes. Garden planted and neglected. Lovely husband. Organized simplicity. Growing baby and belly. Depression (not mine). Visits from family. 2nd trimester sex (worth getting pregnant for). Dollar menu burgers. Margaret's unholy love for dinosaurs and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. Even lovelier husband. Garden still neglected. Bigger baby, bigger belly. Riley working 60 hour weeks. Disorganized complexity. Friday Night Lights. The natural history museum (Margaret, look at the zebras! OH I LOVE IT THE ZEBRAS, MOMMY!). Third trimester sex (not.worth.it). Wonderful friends. A garden so wild it might eat the house. Depression (mine). Singing with the Zuzu. Fifth anniversary. Cornbread. Baby bigger, belly darn near obscene. That Riley, even lovelier still.

I think Fall is just the thing I need. Can't wait to see you there.