I’ve been quiet for a while now. Quiet here, quiet verbally, even quiet mentally. We’ve been chipping away at Project RE, but I honestly haven’t spent much time mulling it over. And this is VERY unusual for me.
Why the quiet? Since BabyLoss #3, I’ve just bowed out of blogland for a while. Too many losses, too many pregnancies, too many people moving and progressing and getting better, while I felt more and more mired down. I want to be someone who moves, who progresses. I’m tired of being the girl who’s stuck. And really, there’s only so much of my whining the blogosphere can take before it revokes my membership card.
And so I logged off, and spent some time playing solitaire. Like, a LOT of solitaire. It became addictive… I couldn’t finish one game without clicking that “Deal Again” just one more time, and then once more. Became obsessed with winning, with beating the stupid little game into submission. Just give me a red 10, and nobody gets hurt.
Oh, and Bobby commented a couple of times about my newfound devotion to solitaire, and realized quickly that it was best to just let me be. Step back, buddy, she bites.
And the longer I stayed away from (semi)daily journaling, the harder it seemed to jump back in. But jump I must, because I miss writing. I miss reading all of my favorites… I’ve spent much of today catching up on everybody’s happenings. And there’s value in chronicling the small, insignificant snippets — if nothing else, this blogging experience has taught me that even if it seems silly to write it down, I’ll be glad I did a year or five later.
So here are two thoughts, neither of which are hugely important, but both of which I will now record:
- Joe Wilson. Bobby and I were watching the live address, and were shocked at the very verbal and disruptive heckling during Obama’s speech. Regardless of your political viewpoint, he’s the President of United States, for chrissake. Have some respect. Imagine my dismay and embarrassment when I discovered that the guilty party was a ill-mannered representative of my own state. I mean, look at this picture… with the glassy eyes, red face, and sweat beading his forehead, he looks like a rabid animal. Not sure what kind of southern raisin’ that boy got, but it sho ‘nough didn’t take.
- Michelle Duggar. 19 kids. Seriously?! Woman, it’s a vagina, not a clown car.
