Yes, I still exist and (sort of) keep a blog.
I did not want you all to imagine that I fell off the face of the earth in the recent past, but truly, the blogs I am working on are not quite up to posting snuff as yet. You will have to content yourself with a short blog resuscitation question and answer session. (Apparently, this has become a thing on the Interwebs in my absence.)
List 2 things you have to be happy about?
- My grandson. In a few short days, the miracle born on my Birthday will be 6 months old! There are not enough adequate blogging words to convey my joy when I am with him. Happy is a poor weak word for it. Ecstatic, over-the-moon … these come a wee bit closer to the mark.
- I live less than 20 minutes from my parents. My mother graciously cooks me breakfast every Wednesday before work, and I sit and sip my coffee while listening to my father and brother talk politics (government or church, whichever is the choice of the week). On Wednesdays I come to work with a smile and a heart filled with love. I also live close enough to my daughter, my son-in-law, and my grandson to spend almost every other weekend with them! The presence of my family members in my life has served as a much-needed anchor through the turbulent seas of divorce. Perhaps now you will know why I have been conspicuously absent of late…
If you could take a photograph, paint a picture or write a story of any place in the world, what and where would it be?
The coasts of Ireland – the one place in the world I most want to visit. I often think of my novel as basically Irish, and I love everything Celtic, for one reason or another.
Should children be seen and not heard?
Not hearing my grandson would be a tragedy in every sense of the word. His gurgles warm my heart; and although his squeals at times may pierce my ears, I eagerly await the day when his amazing words of wisdom pierce my soul.
List at least five of your favorite first names.
Collin, Aubrey, Ian, Desdemona (Desi for short), and Justine
Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?
Last week I created a gratitude wheel prior to finding out that my contract (job) would be renewed in September. I am grateful for the contract renewal, but even more-so that I have learned to be grateful without needing everything in life to go smoothly (did I mention that divorce is hell?).
I have another 3-day weekend coming up, during which time I plan to engage in deep discussions with my daughter and her husband. We like talking about parenthood, spirituality. money. education, and even politics. I will be cooking new GF foods making a mess in my daughter’s kitchen (not mine!), and rolling around on the floor taking pictures of the wonder of my world (yes, of course my grandson) gurgling, squealing, attempting to crawl, or all of the above. His bubbles remind me that all is right with the world.
My life simply could not be any better than this.

So, what’s going on in YOUR world? Please share, then link back to your post in the comments below!
I got this idea from Anxious Mom. Be sure to stop by and give her a holler!
Then you heard the voice again. That voice! Always crowding in to push the darkness back, the sweet darkness that hid and sustained you. “Shut UP!” you screamed in your head. Still it came, relentless.
“Mr. Peabody, please come back to bed,” the nurse said with quiet authority.
Your head snapped up in sudden recognition. “Where am I?” you mumbled groggily.
“Sleepwalking again, Dearie. At least this time you brought your flashlight,” the nurse crooned. “Bad dream tonight?”
“Uh, yeah,” was all you could muster in reply.
“Well, walking up and down this parking lot isn’t going to clean the mess off the walls of your room. At least you finally got rid of that rat for us! Ready to go back inside now?” Then you noticed the bucket and rags she carried.
Looking up at the stone walls you caught a glimpse of the light shining from your window on the third floor. “Sure,” you said softly. Taking your arm in hers, the nurse gently led you back inside the asylum. “Home at last,” you thought.