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Sunday, July 7, 2013

Radio Silence.

I simultaneously have nothing and everything to say.

Summer is hard, with Kyle being home 24/7 -- the days are messed up for all of us, no schedule left unbroken. The kids are rambunctious and needy; we adults clash frequently in nearly every manner and mode. There isn't much of a break before the next thing to tackle -- copious amounts of both coffee and booze fuel us though both have lost their luster and appeal, yet we don't stop.

There is the new dog that we are trying to accommodate/acclimate to our lives, and her wildness makes us all a little on edge, a little short on tempers, and more than a little exhausted.

We've named her Tallulah Belle, Lulu for short. I guess she's staying, if we can scrape up enough to get her properly vetted and licensed. Unless you know a good home that wants her, then maybe we should talk.

There was a weekend trip to a family reunion in Chicago, where my kids performed much better than anticipated and fun was actually had, only for it to all fall apart when we got home and spent a week trapped inside due to rain. 

My home is being used as a location for three different photoshoots throughout the summer, the first having happened. I'll leave the details of that to the other blog, but trust it's a hill to climb. One I'm grateful to, but still. The cleaning. THE CLEANING. And the vulnerability of opening your home up to strangers (and thereby yourself, at least in my case) for judgement against the ideal of perfection and trying not to cringe too hard when inevitably, you don't quite measure up.

I've begun training for my first of two half-marathons already signed up for, no refunds issued, no going back now.

And, in three short weeks, there's BlogHer. I have some responsibilities this time around, as well as actual friendly faces to see, so while I'm excited, I have metric shittons of things to accomplish before then. At least I'm driving this time, so I can completely over-pack my car in efforts of having everything I could possibly need. Although I left New York in a panic comprised of many parts and secret vows to accomplish an invisible list of things, I haven't as much tackled anything, so I feel a small sense of shame going forward, like a bit of a sham.

But we shall see what it brings.

And of course, there are things I can't talk about yet, events and happenings that I'm not at liberty to share yet and that tends to weigh down all of my words, my ability to speak on much of anything besides the weather (ugh) and the new dog (oy) and the kids (eeeehhhh) and house stuff (argh). You know, the easy things to gloss over. But as for the rest, the deep things in residence in my heart and the dark things taking shelter in my soul, those things are the nothings that swallow up the frivolous bits of ether-words that I can't quite muster up the energy to tap out before they dissolve back into nothingness, a wisp of a thought I once had and thought maybe someone would give a damn about.

I want to be better. I miss this, here, now, these tip-tap-tip-taps of the keyboard and the feeling of my inner voice escaping though my fingertips, but pinpointing my gun-shy-ness is one more daunting task in a neverending list of to-dos that also include trumping items like laundry and running (with the damn dog, to burn her energy a little) and doctor appointments and tracking the budget. It loses, often to sleep and to family time and movies and TV and just silence when I can find it.

I don't know how everyone else does it, this dance. 

But I'm getting a little restless hugging the wall, waiting for someone to take the lead.