I am writing something. I’m not fixing widgets or changing themes or fiddling with layout issues. I’m just writing a blasted post and publishing the thing before I explode. Every few days I sit down here and open a new blank document, and every few days I write a few lines, get distracted and completely fail to get a single thing published.
No more, I say!
I’ve still not quite decided what I want to talk about here. So much has happened since I took my blogging break that I just don’t know where to begin.
I live in the same place with the same devilishly handsome PSWC and the house is, give or take some bathroom innards, pretty much the same. We are still sans significant portions of the bathroom. The significant parts are still there; we have four walls and a floor and technically the room does have a bath in it, but the standard things that make a bathroom feel like a bathroom aren’t exactly complete. It is coming along slowly but surely, with the emphasis on the slowly. On the positive side, we now have a working shower and I do believe I now own a hammer drill.
I still make things. I probably make more things now than I used to, having picked up a few more crafts to add to my creative quiver. My projects are getting more complex and my dreams are getting a little too big for me to safely think about, but I can safely say I have not stagnated. The same medium, yes, but not the same mindset. It is like having a whole new sandpit and free access to the baking tins! Unfortunately this new mindset has been somewhat hobbled by lack of available surface areas and a considerable amount of mental clutter, so there isn’t much to show other than hasty sketches and a lot of scribbled notes. Still, anything is better than a blank page.
Did I mention I finally ribboned at the Royal? I totally did.
Not all that much has changed on the pet front. There are far fewer fish and a few more four-legged furry things. All of our old critters are now considered elderly, according to the charts on the vet’s walls, and the dog in particular has needs. New needs, medical ones, not just his overwhelming desire to be under your feet every minute. On top of his home made dinners, I’m now baking cookies and reading nutritional breakdowns of everything that he scoffs. There are pills and appointments and many more trips outside than their used to be. There are also many more snuggles. Swings and roundabouts, I guess.
There are house plants. Indoor ones, planted in plastic pots that live inside other prettier pots. I’m pretty sure this is a sign that I’m an adult. It is hard to say because a lot of the more traditional signs of adulthood seem to have passed me by. No university, no kids, no corporate ladder. I did get a bit of an inkling that something was up when we got the house, but that could have been a blip. I don’t think there is any way to ignore these plants though. I mean, when you actively seek out peace lilies and find yourself sponging down their leaves to clear off the dust, you’ve pretty much earned that adulting badge.
Also I seem to have grey hairs. Six of them. I’ve tried removing them from the gene pool but it seems that you can’t selectively breed hairs.
So that is that. Some stuff happened and I got older.
Is that enough of a catch up?