so right.jpg

The time off was too short to be therapeutic. But I did walk away from my blog, my email, even my camera for a week. Other than Thrifty Goodness photos yesterday, I’ve not shot a single photo since Boy Wonder’s birthday on the 22nd. Other than a few emails to people who were owed, nary a word was typed. No photos on Christmas (apostasy!), no photos on New Years (that’s for your benefit!), no words, no thoughts, no nothing, baby. Clear minds. Silence.

I’m willing to let that be it.

IZ is not. Any suggestion I might take an indefinite hiatus is met with arched eyebrows, “Uh, that’s not a good idea.” Apparently, some of you aren’t willing to let me quit either. Nudge, nudge, ouch! I have to tell you though, a week away doesn’t seem long enough. But a month wouldn’t seem long enough either; the difference being that if I took a month I wouldn’t come back at all. So, here I am. One foot forward.

What I did do was a whole lot of nothing. I tried to sew once. But the sound of my sewing machine is an alarm going off in the head of Boy Wonder. There is some psychic connection between that machine and my child’s need to barrel up the stairs and ask me a million questions. Questions I can’t answer. Questions that leave me frustrated. Questions that lead to me being a melty mess and wondering exactly where his father might be at this precise moment. I threw in the towel, cleaned up my space, and plopped down in front of etsy. Etsy is my new best friend, just so you know.

I did get some sleep. Considering the days leading up to the holiday this is a good thing. IZ and I also listened to an inordinate amount of back episodes of Law and Order, Cold Case, and Without a Trace. All of which aren’t really shows we regularly watch, so most of it seemed new to us. Occasionally, we would look up from our computers when the voice-over narrator would say, “these are their stories. . .”

IZ: “Have you seen this one?”

Me: “Uh, nope!”

And back to looking at etsy we’d go, listening to the TV in the background. You avoid an amazing amount of gore that way, just sayin’. Ok, so, I went back to etsy. What IZ was looking at, I don’t know—except every once in awhile he’d send me a link to property in Santa Barbara. Like a motion picture with a soundtrack, my mind would go whirling to a moment when I was happy, to a place that keeps me sane. And nothing else compares. Home, home, where I wanted to go.** And these are my stories. Click, click, click, into the wee hours. No words, no pictures. Me and etsy, we’re BFF.

Over coffee one morning, IZ and I had the following conversation:

Me: And while I’m on the subject, can I just say that I hold an unhealthy hatred for those celebrities that have babies and then have perfect bodies 6 weeks later. Hatred I tell you.

IZ: Yeah, well, you need to remember those women spend an inordinate amount of time, not to mention money, in the gym and on “procedures” to get those bodies.

Me: Who has that kind of time???

IZ: Yeah, well, they also don’t have etsy.

Wonder what his point is exactly, she thought sarcastically.

These are my stories. No more, no less. I’m back. I’m putting one size 8.5 foot in front of the other. No promises one of them won’t end up in my mouth, though.

**Clocks–COLDPLAY

The lights go out and I can’t be saved
Tides that I tried to swim against
Have brought me down upon my knees
Oh I beg, I beg and plead singing

Come out of things unsaid
Shoot an apple off my head and a
Trouble that cant be named
A tiger’s waiting to be tamed singing

You are
You are

Confusion never stops
Closing walls and ticking clocks
Gonna come back and take you home
I could not stop that you now know singing

Come out upon my seas,
Cursed missed opportunities
Am I a part of the cure
Or am I part of the disease, singing

You are, you are, you are
You are, you are, you are

And nothing else compares
And nothing else compares
And nothing else compares

You are
You are

Home, home where I wanted to go
Home, home where I wanted to go
Home, home where I wanted to go
Home, home where I wanted to go