Some of you might be wondering where I have been. Or maybe not, but it makes me feel warm and festive and, I don't know, Christmas-y to think my absence has been noticed so I am going to go ahead and tell you that I've missed you too.
I almost deleted this blog forever FOREVER because I can tend to work myself up into dramatic fits of whatever and I tell you I was feeling like the type of person who would never share another thing with another person again for the rest of my life. And so I sayeth and so it shall be world without end amen.
But I didn't. Clearly.
And then I was like... blog, eh, who needs it when Facebook exists to whittle my life down into 3rd person sentences?
And then I even stopped reading blogs and I know. Suddenly I had time to really scour that mildew in the shower and change the boys' bedding to the flannel "winter" sets and go through my daughter's closet and pull out the array of flip flops two sizes too small as well as amass a large bag of adorable yet tiny hand-me-downs for my niece, the incredibly edible Kate.
There has possibly been a great deal of baking and watching of Season 1 of Bones on Hulu.
And then it was Catalina and a week in a house furnished in early prison comfort and with people living in the closet.
Lest you think I jest, let me take you back to your childhood and a little book known as, The Borrowers. The wee folk who lived in your walls? Remember them? And when your box of matches or spool of thread went missing you could be assured it had been "borrowed" for a bed or table.
I loved those books.
Anyway, Hugh and I were not able to rent the same place we had been in last year and so we took another house on the street which looked a little shabby but met our needs and we scarcely glanced at the "full time tenant in back unit" disclaimer on the rental form.
The thing is... funny this, the "back unit" turned out to be nothing more than a door (with a note stating, "Do Not Unlock") from what was at one time a pantry and currently led to a very bizarre studio constructed of some code-violating walls.
I know this because while under the influence of an 18oz margarita (or 2) I unlocked the door and took a peek. Because that is how I roll. Like an ass.
At night, the action within the walls was hysterical and annoying. It just depended on what time of night. At say, 9 p.m., nothing but funny to listen to the world within the closet. Around 2 a.m., not so jolly.
But you know, we're big suckers for that week and so we'll be back. Probably to a house with real walls next year, but still, back.
And then, holy cookies, it's time to get ready for Christmas. And my children are respectively asking for a Dare phone, a fat tailed gecko, and a cheerleader Barbie.
Get on it, would you Santa?
But, this afternoon, after sweeping up the pine needles and getting dinner going, I thought, oh blog, I think I miss you and the opportunity to butcher all rules of English grammar.