Love throw a line

I am not dead. I have not been abducted by aliens. I am not even preoccupied by anything new or exciting (other than the daily antics of this small person I live with who refuses to walk in spite of proven ability but still manages to get into every forbidden realm of my house).  I would love to say this immense stretch of nothingness on my blog has been the result of brilliance and creativity elsewhere, but I’m sorry to report that any novel I might have started in the past three weeks would begin, “She only meant to eat a few Wheat Thins to tide her over until lunch, but the box was empty by noon.” No. It’s just February, and for me that means all of my energy is used up just walking around and breathing, so anything extra, like writing stuff and reading stuff and communicating with people, is not likely to happen.

There’s light at the end of the tunnel, though, and it’s not a train this time (it was a train last week, and it was called the Grad School Express, and it flattened me, but I think my recovery is nearly complete). Thankfully, February the Month will fizzle and die in a mere two days, and February the State of My Mind will slowly cross fade into something like springtime and deep breaths and lightness shortly thereafter. And even though I feel sort of trite and whiny talking about my great heaviness when there is so much heavier heaviness in the world, even the part of the world that encompasses some of my dearest reader friends, I am heavy nonetheless, and when I am light again I will have so much to say, and only a small portion of it will involve Wheat Thins.


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