For that, I apologize.
I don't know where time went.
One day I was filled with energy and witty and/or charming and/or simple commentary about my life. The next day, or 18 days, I'm silent. Mute. Sure I've had a brief glimpse of a cleverly constructed sentence, but when I sit down to try and compose a thought, nothing comes.
The words don't look right together. The thoughts aren't clear. My brain has used up all of its energy on the mundane of each day and there has been nothing left for the creative parts of me.
How does one go about fixing that?
Because, truly, I do love writing in this dear little blog, but sometimes, like those times when I'm:
- chasing a toddler
- trying to figure out an effective discipline strategy to discourage hitting
- growing a baby
- keeping the house in some sense of order
- coordinating a retreat for 15 women
- delivering dinner to brand new mommies
- beginning and ending a love-hate relationship with the Twilight series
the last thing I feel is inspired, creative or entertaining.
So bear with me. I'll find a groove. I'll get a fan in my living room so it isn't so hot that I'm immobilized, I'll turn off HGTV, I'll put down the novels - or at least read them in smaller doses each day (a 500 page book in two days is a bit ridiculous) and I'll woo you once again with tender tales of motherhood and the fancy life.
And, in case you missed it, yes, I am pregnant.