Who says you can't go home

What's with all the smiles?

Daddy came home!

Well, technically, he's not allowed to come home (thanks, army, for caring so much!) ... but he was released from the hospital. The kids hadn't seen him in over 2 weeks; they were thrilled! So good to see all 4 of my boys smiling again.

He's doing better. There is more of a gentle understanding that he seems to possess now. It's subtle, but I definitely notice it. He has more of an understanding about himself, his injuries, his changes, and most importantly, his limitations. Something that he had never quite grasped before. He assumed himself fully well and capable of pursuing a day to day life no different then it was before the injuries. When he would come up short, he internalized it as failing, and would berate himself into the ground with guilt and hatred. It would only be a matter of time before that negative energy spilled over, onto, and through those around him.

I see a shift in him that wasn't there before. Someone who knows he isn't capable of what he once was, and accepts that. Someone who doesn't deem himself a failure for not living up to his self imposed high expectations; who instead knows his limits, and works fully within them. I am full of love and light that, with this new sense of self, he will break through to the other side of his anxiety and depression, finally.
He's worth it.

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if you save them ... they will come

Oh good lord ... that is ANOTHER dog! We haven't run into this many strays/rescues since living in Fayetteville (where, apparently, dumping your dog on the side of the road is considered sport!)

Ready for a story? lol

I found a great family so eager to give the puppy we picked up a loving home. I was so excited! They live outside of Asheville, NC which is about 2 1/2 hours from us. I wont hand a rescue pet over to a new family unless they are ok with me hand delivering the lil fur ball myself, so we loaded up the car, I printed off directions, and off we went. I also plugged the address into my cell phones GPS system ... would be easier to listen to direction rather then having to read them, right? Haa!

Everything was going well. Open roads, rocking tunes, AIR CONDITIONING (after 2 hot and humid SC summers ... our cars ac is FINALLY FIXED!) It had been about 2 1/2 hours, so I started wondering why we weren't there yet, or why we weren't even seeing signs for Asheville (hello, meli, could there be a bigger clue then that?!) Want to know what signs we were seeing? MORGANTON! Yep, I drove us to Morganton ... if you remember from the last post, this puppy was found in a box on the side of the road not too far from Morganton. Pretty damn ironic if you ask me, lol! I blame the GPS!

So, I try to find an exit to pull off so we can all use the bathroom, and I ended up exiting/merging onto another hwy (one of those hwys that run through the city). I was getting ready to pull into a restaurant, and I spot this dog run across the hwy! You can see where this story is going, can't ya? lol.

I pulled over, and she came right up to us. No collar. One of the workers at the restaurant said he sees her every day; darting through traffic. Brought her to a vet ... no microchip. I called around to the local shelter, rescues, and a few vets to see if anyone had called in a missing dog matching her description. Nothing. She has NO manners whatsoever. All of that together leads me to believe that it's not likely there is someone looking for her. Poor baby.

She's young. I'd guess 5-8 months, maybe. As high energy as they come (even for an australian shepherd [that's what she is, btw, lol]).

Anyway, I couldn't just leave her there, and since I was hitting dead ends in all my attempts to locate an owner, I just decided to load her into the car. We turned ourselves in the right direction, and headed on up to deliver the puppy.

They took one look at the pup, squealed, and called her Sunny (her eyes ... bright like a sunny sky). It fit! Morgan didn't stick ... we took to calling her Sassy. Sassy McWhine A lot, actually! LOL. They were great, already had everything set up for her. She is going to have a wonderful life with them, I can feel it.

Sooo ... here we are, with an extra dog, again. I'm not as optimistic about finding this one a great home. She's older, for one. So many people want tiny little things. Also, honestly, NO MANNERS! She needs a great deal of training. She's gorgeous! I actually have such a soft spot for this breed ... ok, ok, I have a soft spot for most breeds, lol. It's her color in particular that I'm drawn to. I love blue merles. I just don't think that will offset the strikes against her to potential new families. Rescue groups are so full (people ditching their pets because of economical downfalls has caused such a crowded situation for so many rescue groups), and I wont turn her over to a shelter. So, as much as my cats hate me (poor babies) she's here for now. Until I can think of something. She will be a wonderfully smart, loyal, beautiful dog with some extensive training. I just don't know that I have it in me to do it. I'm stretched so thin already. Running on fumes. And also, if I put that much time and love into an animal, there is no way I would be able to give her to a new family. I become attached too quickly ...

This is exactly how Tatum came into our lives. I spotted her running down the side of the interstate.

Getting lost. The name of the city. The similarity in her rescue with Tatum's rescue...
Meant to be?

Since the name Morgan was back up for grabs ... she nabbed it. And this time it is a perfect, sticking fit.

If she would just CLOSE HER EYES and SLEEP! I'm so tired!

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Yes, that is an extra dog...

I received a call today (you know you're in for a story when it starts with "I received a call today"... lol). I almost didn't answer because I didn't recognize that number (take note ... I rarely answer the phone if I don't know your number). I was thinking it may be something regarding Nick, so I answered ... oh was I way off!

It was a girl working at one of the shelters upstate. She said that a lady had just dropped off two puppies. Apparently she found a box of three puppies on the side of the road, decided to keep one of them, and turned the other two into the shelter. The particular shelter she brought them to was way over capacity. She said since they puppies wouldn't be considered lost dogs or strays, they would instead be signed in as an "abandoned litter", and they would be put down immediately because of the lack of holding room.

She was working the front desk, so she took the puppies to her car and called me (I've volunteered my photography services to some of the shelters around here ... I'm assuming that's where she got my number?). She told me she would be able to take one of them home, but that would max her out according to her lease agreement, so she needed to find someone to take the other puppy. She said she called everyone she could think of, and no one was in a position to take on another dog, even temporarily. She only had about 30 minutes left at work, and if she couldn't make arrangements, she'd have to officially sign the puppy in and leave it (to be killed).

Totally not in the mood for puppy days, but what could I do, say no? Yea right!

Soooo... meet Morgan (I think that's what I'll name her anyway... she was found not too far from Morganton, NC. It fits! That's how Tatum got her name, too. We picked her up right outside of Tatum, SC)... a cute lil girl with grayish blue eyes, quirky ears, and stinky puppy breath. lol.




We went out to the lake after picking her up so her and Tatum could get acquainted....
Morgan was content to lie under my leg much of the time (she was trying to get out of the sun) while Tatum prompty walked a few steps into the sludgey-est part of the lake, lied down, and rolled back and forth until she was completely covered in mud! OMG ... such a mess!

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We are not alone

I've been asked, on several occasions, why I am so openly candid about my families troubles. Why I feel the need to air our dirty laundry. Why I put it all out there for the world to read.

In short ... because I want to. It's therapy for me in more then one way.

It feels good to have a place to unload. It feels good to have a place to work through my thoughts. It feels good to have a place to drop as many F-bombs as it takes before my breathing returns to normal. Lets face it ... it's not good to bottle things up. This is my own personal dumping ground, and it serves me well.

Why not just journal privately, then? Why does the everyone and their mother need to have access to your dump?

That one is easy ... because it's nice feeling heard. It's one things to "get it out", it's another to be heard, listened to, and understood. Who doesn't want that? I mean, c'mon.

Therapy comes in other forms, too. Aside from the direct help that online blogging gives me, the indirect help is much more personal and meaningful to me. I express my heartache and I share my fears because I know that by opening my life up, others will see themselves reflected there. I tell my story, knowing that others will recognize, in many ways, that it is their story also. We're together. Banded. Walking hand in hand through this journey. We are not alone. Those 4 little words are so extremely powerful ... we are not alone. If I can help bring a little solace to someone who sees their struggles through my story, that is therapy for me. The ability to turn my pain into comfort for others trudging through the muck ... wow, my own personal hell has not been in vain; could you ask for more?

I opened my book a long time ago, and I have no plans of closing it.

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Visit to the Farm

Went to visit Nick tonight. He seems to be doing better. He was talkative, so that's progress over the past week. He has a positive attitude and optimistic outlook about the whole thing, so that's also progress (he tends to dwell on the negative). He said his group appts over the past couple of days have been helpful, and he's looking forward to more. He's working on letting go of some past hurts, guilt, and regrets that he's been holding onto for years ... hoping to take steps to forgive and move into the future, instead of being tied to the past. He's hopeful.

Also found out that he'll only be there for 5-7 days (10 at most). Apparently this place is only a temporary inpatient facility with emphasis on an intensive outpatient program they put you on once you're released. He should be out of there soon. Where he'll go once he gets out is another obstacle needing to figured out. He's been staying in the barracks with a roommate. Apparently they are moving some people around, both Nick and his roommate are being moved into separate, individual rooms. Can't imagine that would be the best place for Nick ... all alone in a tiny depressing barracks room. It's what helped push him this close to the edge in the first place, only now he wont have a roommate there with him.

His command still has a limited no contact order in place which prevents him from coming to the house under any circumstances. There isn't anywhere else for him to go. Worries me. We have a spare room, and I am more the willing and wanting him to be here while he heals ... but I don't see his command budging. They've demanded that both Nick and I attend marriage counseling, which will be monitored by the commander. Once they feel ample progress has been made in our relationship ... they'll remove the no contact order.

Who out there knows me? Even just slightly? Do you think I'm the type that is ok being ORDERED by the military to do ANYTHING?

OH HELL NO!!!!!! In the beginning, I tried to put my stubbornness aside. Took some deep breaths, bit my tongue, and tried to be a team player. I knew Nick and I wanted to try marriage counseling again anyway, so what was the big deal. The only thing I requested was that our sessions be with a civilian provider off post. Commander told me that was fine, they'd set it all up and get back to me. A couple of weeks later I was informed that off post was no longer an option, they'd be setting up the appts through a provider at the hospital on post, and our files would be assessed monthly to see how much progress was being made.

Nope ... no longer playing. They can kiss my ass! I didn't sign that damn enlistment contract, they can't order me to do a damn thing, and I'm no longer going to roll over and let them think they can. No way will I let them have that amount of control over MY life. And there is NO WAY I'm ok going through with therapy sessions knowing damn well that everything I say is going to be open book for his command. Yea Fucking Right!!! Nick and I will get therapy ... but we'll do it our way, we'll do it in an environment where we feel our thoughts and feelings are safe and protected, we'll do it for US ... not because some commander fuck head on a power trip thinks he can bulldoze over me with orders and intimidation. FUCK HIM!

Bitter much? YES! I am so goddam sick of the military. SO.SICK.OF.IT.

Nick has been asking for additional help for quite a long time now, but he keeps getting doors slammed in his face. Told they don't have the resources. They don't have the man power. They don't have the time. It's hard for him to ask for help, and being told no time and time again ... it's discouraging. Eventually you just stop trying. And then we all wonder why there are so many soldiers coming home committing suicide, or killing their families ... Ummm, HELLO!!!

SICK.OF.IT!

Wow, so didn't mean for this to turn into a vent. I hit a nerve ... lots of rage inside regarding this subject there I guess, lol.

Back on point ... Nick is doing better. He has a long, long way to go ... and he finally acknowledges that. He knows there are no quick fixes or sure things. It'll be a lot of work, over a long period of time ... a one foot in front of the other, putting in the effort on a minute by minute basis. Lets all send some good thoughts and prayers out there for him.

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The rope is getting shorter ...

My mind is racing ... Where do I begin?

Nick has been admitted into an inpatient treatment facility for mental health. I don't know how long he'll be there.

Lets rewind a bit. Things had been going pretty good. Nick started a new medication, and things seemed to be going well. He seemed to have more understanding and compassion and a willingness to want to listen, he had more patience with the kids then he has had in a long long time, he had a positive attitude and a hopeful outlook for the future. Things were well, and I had hope that one day, after a lot of work, we'd be able to reconnect as a family and move forward, together. And then last wednesday came ...

He went in to take care of some things at work, and I haven't heard from him since. We had text back and forth several times during the day... we had plans to get together after he was done, hang at the park. He never showed up. No phone call. And he hasn't returned a call or text since. The boys have called every day; several times a day. They told me they like to hear his voice on his voicemail. How heartbreaking is that?

I, on the other hand, haven't called once since Wednesday night. We did stopped by his room the next day to see if he was there. The boys were worried. He didn't answer. His roommate told us he hadn't seen him. I didn't want to stop, I expected exactly what we got, which was a big fat door in our face, but the kids wanted to check, so I took them. The next day, however, the pit in my stomach was growing. What if he wasn't alright. I know he's pulled this same crap on me a million times, and every time I've worried myself sick for nothing. He was always fine. Always out being selfish and not caring what he put us through. But what if this time he really was hurt or in trouble? Could I live with myself if I did nothing? So, I got in touch with his squad leader knowing that Nick has to check in atleast twice a day, so if something had happened ... there would be no contact. Sure enough, Nick was making regular contact. So, there it was ... he was alright, and I couldn't let myself become consumed with the worry and the whys again. Life had to go on. I put down the phone, and went to make lunch for the kids.

Every other time he's pulled his disappearing acts, I've been the one to make contact with him. I've been the one to extend the olive branch, to let him know that we don't hate him, that we don't wish him dead (he spins things so far out of control), that we love him, etc, etc, etc. I'm the one that makes it safe and easy for him to drag his guilt ridden self back into the picture.

I couldn't make myself do it this time. I couldn't and I wouldn't. After what happened 2 months ago, I was already done. I was still holding onto hope for our future, one day ... but I couldn't extend myself anymore in this same destructive cycle we've been circling for years. Wasn't going to do it. I have kids to think about. I have my own mental health to think about. I wasn't going to make it ok for him this time. I still loved him, and still wanted him to get better, us to get better, our family to find stable ground again ... but it was going to be up to him this time, and hopefully it wouldn't be too late. I couldn't keep chasing him down. It was time for him to show effort. Capable of it or not, I didn't care, the gesture needed to come from him.

Nothing came... until yesterday morning. The phone rang, and my heart jumped ... like it does every time. It wasn't him, but it was his therapist. She told me that Nick had given her the ok to disclose as much or as little info about what's been going on with him as I wanted to hear. She let me know that Nick was in a very bad place. Worse then she's ever seen him. She told me that he walked into her office earlier in the morning and begged for help. He told her that he didn't know what to do, he felt like he was losing his mind, he couldn't hold it together, and he pleaded for help.

Apparently, according to the story she got from him, last Wednesday while waiting for his room to be inspected, he fell asleep. He just had surgery not even a week before, so he was on pain pills, and I imagine if he did fall asleep, he was probably out cold. He didn't wake up until the next day, and he was mortified. Knowing that we had plans, and knowing our history with him disappearing with no contact, he was racked with guilt and couldn't bring himself to deal with it. He spiraled out of control.

He already has PTSD coupled with the TBI ... both of which cause a severe imbalance in his moods. His surgery was to remove his thyroid ... another key component in maintaining mental alertness and balancing moods. He had his entire thyroid removed (in two separate surgeries), and has not yet been put on a thyroid hormone replacement meds. He has to undergo a round of radiation, and have his levels checked again. They wont start the hormone replacement therapy until his levels drop to zero (to make sure there are no cells floating around in there, so the cancer doesn't grow back). It'll be atleast 6-8 weeks before that happens! You can imagine how difficult, mentally, this is for him, with everything in his body working toward inbalance. He broke.

I'm working really hard not to feel guilt. Guilt for not being there for him. For not reaching out my hand to him. For not knowing. He was all alone and breaking. Ugh!

So, I still haven't been able to talk to him. There are limited phone days and hours in which to contact him.

I haven't been able to see him. There are limited days and times in which we can visit.

And to make matters worse ... I was just informed that children are not allowed to visit. CHILDREN ARE NOT ALLOWED TO VISIT???? What kind of asinine rule is that? These boys are going through hell. They want to see Daddy, see that he's ok. Hug Daddy, feel that he's ok. They want to be there for him. And how is this supposed to be good on the patients in the facility? To not be able to see your kids? To know your kids are worried, and not be able to hug them? How is that good?!

So, with no child care, how am I supposed to go see him. To relay both to Nick that we all love him, and back to the kids that Dad is ok. How am I supposed to do that? The first visitation is tomorrow evening, and I can't be there. He's in the deepest hole he's ever been in, and I'm just going to not show up tomorrow? What is that going to do to him? To me? To the kids?

The rope is getting shorter ... and I'm slipping closer to the end of it.

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Hey, let go

I lied in bed last night, tossing and turning, not able to sleep.

I don't know why it took so long, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. Took my breath away. Scared me to the point of non stop tears. It wasn't true. That last blog post I wrote; it wasn't true.  "I lost him once ... I can do it again". Lies. All lies. I didn't lose him 7 years ago. Not in my mind, my heart, my soul anyway. I held onto him. Not daring let go. It was just the memories of him that I was holding onto, but I held on damn tight. I had the physical body standing there, and I had the emotional memories inside of me. I didn't let him go. I wouldn't. I couldn't.

Partly because of reasons talked about in that last blog post. I wasn't ever able to fully and completely grieve and move on with him. The little I was able to get out was quickly thrown back at me, so I learned to ignore my feelings. Not deal with them. Put them off. You can't let go of something that you're ignoring; not dealing with.

And also partly because I didn't want it to be true. I didn't want to let go. Letting go meant he was really gone. We were really over. I didn't know how to do that. I DON'T know how to do that.  I don't know how to endure that type of pain. What if I'm not strong enough? What if I can't recover?

When I was finally able to cry myself to sleep last night, I had a dream. I haven't seen the movie in forever, but the scene was one of the last from Titanic. Rose has to make the hard decision to release Jack... she has to let him go in order to save herself. Only in my dream, it was me, struggling with that very same decision. I could see my way out, my rescue, my help ... but I first had to let go of the man I loved more then life itself. A man that wasn't really even there anymore, he was already gone, but I was still holding onto the memory. I didn't do it. I didn't let go. Crippled by sadness, and heartbreak, and fear ... I stayed still, unable to release myself from the past, and in the end that great big ocean swallowed me up. The end. Life over.

Begin (Nicky Mehta)

Hey, maybe the time
just wasn't right to hang on
When are you gonna learn
Things sometimes turn instead of turn out

Hey, when are you gonna stand
Stop looking over your shoulder
Me, with a head full of words
And not one useful expression
Hey, let go

We, with holes in our hearts
Were whole at the start
Our story began
We film ourselves 'til the end
Try to suspend our lives in the dark

Hey, when are you gonna stand
Stop looking over your shoulder
See, there's a sun in the sky
And a moon that will take us til morning
When are you gonna stand
Stop and begin this moment
Hey, let go
Let go

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I lost him once ... I can do it again

photo taken 13 years ago in june 1997 ... newly dating & so much in love

I've already lost my husband once. 7 years ago. He went off to war and never came back. The shell of a man that took his place 7 years ago has tried to integrate into our family, but he doesn't fit. How could he? He's not him. He's not my husband. He's not the boys' father. Not in ways that matter anyway.

I slowly came to understand that the man I once loved. The man who possessed some of the most beautiful and genuine qualities I had ever witnessed in another person was gone. This new man; he was ... colder, darker, meaner. So difficult to grasp; the change. It was so drastic, so immediate, so complete. Changed as he was, he was still my husband (I double checked the legal documents just to be sure, haa), and I had made a commitment to myself, to him, to our children ... I wasn't going to give up on that. For better or worse. In sickness and in health. I meant those words when I said them ... BOTH times.

I have worked hard to remain patient. To remain hopeful and optimistic. To dig deep for the amount of compassion and understanding it takes to keep us afloat with this broken person who returned home to us. The only thing wrong is that the broken person who returned home to us doesn't give the same effort. He, infact, fights every step of the way. Could we make any progress? Yea right ... only if you count moving backward progress.

He assured me time and time again that he wanted this family to work. That he didn't want to lose us. That we meant the world to him. So, ok, I would dig even deeper, work even harder, pick up the slack that he was unable to carry. For better or worse. In sickness and in health. He was sick. Injured. Struggling to regain control of himself. I not only lost my husband. My kids not only lost their father. But he lost himself over there on the battlefield. Couldn't be easy to wake up everyday hating the person you had become. I know it had to be hard... impossible at times, but I also know that he wasn't the only one going through that level of pain. There were 4 other people going through it as well.

If we were able to grieve and move on as a family, we may have had a chance, may have had a leg to stand on. But we couldn't do it together.  The kids and I weren't able to really grieve our loss. We weren't able to really feel it, communicate it, and find some peace and closure in dealing with it. We were instead overooked, pushed to the back, benched.  All of that compassion, patience, and understanding that we were giving to him ... it wasn't being reciprocated. Our feelings weren't often able to be communicated without a fight. Without a guilt trip. Without things getting really bad really fast. We learned to hold back while with him. Danced around it. Stuffed it down.  Sure, there were times here and there where he'd calm down and really work at hearing us, at understanding our feelings. He would beg us to trust him with our grief ... he would be there to listen, to comfort, to understand. It just never lasted ... and in the end, anything and everything that was ever shared with him during those vulnerable moments were thrown back in our faces in an attempt to guilt us, to blame us, to attack us. He used our grief against us to better aid his self destructive defense.

For better or worse

In sickness and in health

I really did mean those words. With every fiber of my being I meant them!

Part of me feels like a quitter, like a failure, because he's still sick, times are still "worse", and I didn't finish what I started. I didn't see this thing through. I'm not 107 years old (yes, I plan to be 107!) holding the hand of the man I've called my husband for 89 years and counting ... looking at him and smiling; knowing we overcame the worst of times together, and built a beautiful life out of the rubble.

I believed for so long that that would happen. That that would be our outcome. I just knew it. I felt it.

I have to come to terms with the fact that our outcome will most likely look very different then that. Very very different.

I have to come to terms and really believe that I did do everything I could. I stayed true to my vows. I followed my commitment through until the end. No, not the end I had envisioned, not the end I wanted, but still an end. It takes 2 people to make a marriage work. Sure, there are times when one person will be carrying the brunt of the load for whatever reason, but eventually that slack needs to be evened out (until the next bout of turbulence). Both parties need to be willing participants. I know I was, and I know he wasn't ... not 100%. His words were there, his actions weren't, and his heart has bobbed in and out.  It wont ever work that way. It's been 7 years of it not working. I need to accept that and truly let go. I felt it was over 2 months ago, but I still held out hope. Hope for our love, for our family, for our future. It's time to take the fantasy blinders off.

I don't know what the future holds for us, but I do know that I lost my husband once. The love of my life. The greatest man I'd ever known. I've already lost him once and I survived. I do love this changed man, too. Maybe more. Maybe less. I don't really know. I do know that it's different ... but it's there, and it's strong. It'll be heartbreaking to lose him (if I ever really had him to begin with) ... but I'm a survivor, I think I can do it again.

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i am.

i am beautiful

i am caring

i am smart

i am witty

i am warm, and compassionate, and joyful, and loyal, and spunky, and capable, and sincere, and romantic, and thoughtful, and determined, and trust-worthy, and kind-hearted.

i am.

The man I have loved for almost half of my life has taken such a toll on my sense of self. He took me for granted. He didn't appreciate me. He tossed me aside. I began to feel unworthy. Unwanted. Undesirable. I lost my purpose, my goals, my head, my heart in a mad dash to help him save his. And he let me. He let me.

How could he let me?

He said he loved me, he'd protect me, he'd always be there for me, yet he was so quick to overlook me. To shove me to the side. To stomp right through me in order to keep pulling more for himself. He threw me to the ground time and time again just to soften the blow he felt when falling apart. And I let him. I let him.

How could I let him?

I am more then that. I mean more then that. I deserve more then that.

i am beautiful.

i am caring.

i am smart.

i am witty.

i am warm, and compassionate, and joyful, and loyal, and spunky, and capable, and sincere, and romantic, and thoughtful, and determined, and trust-worthy, and kind-hearted.

i am.

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Drowning ... to put it mildly

Wow, I can't seem to get caught up.



I was 30 some days behind on my photolog last month before I caught up. I was so excited and proud when I finally caught up, yet here I am, almost 30 days behind ... again! WTF, Charlie, Seriously!

Oye Vey.

On the surface, it's not a big deal, I know, but when I am determined not to let the hurdles I'm leaping in my life right now affect a long term project that is so very important to me ... well, it's a personal battle that I feel I'm losing. That, to me, is a big deal.

I don't want to see my Photo-A-Day, something I've spent the past year and a half working on, fall to the wayside. Another broken, tossed aside piece of my life. I don't want that to happen. Yet, the farther behind I fall, the more overwhelming the task becomes, and the easier it is to put it off.  I fear, without a swift, self imposed kick in the arse, I'll lose touch with this side of myself ... the side that reminds me of who I am, why I'm here, and what I have to offer. The side that reminds me that I am not just a Mother, a Wife, a Daughter, a Friend ... I am so much more. I can't lose her. I wont.

So, here I  am, ready to inflict said arse kicking ... and get it in gear.

I treated myself to a MacBook Pro last month (Happy Mother's Day to me, thankyouverymuch) ... and I have yet to transfer all of my data (namely photos) from my PC over here. THAT is the biggest part of the problem. Over complication is a big turn off for me. Having to dance between two computers proved too annoying for me ... so I stopped bothering.My photos are over there, and I'm over here ... makes it sort of hard to photo blog! ha!

I'm going to set aside some time this weekend to finally merge my files over here. That should help tremendously. Because even though I haven't been blogging them, I HAVE still been photo taking every day. Good Job, Meli!

I'd also like to slowly pick up some of the other projects that I was working on before the new set of marrital woes bombarded me. I was working on opening my own Etsy store to sell some of my photographs. Although, I don't know if I'd be able to stop at just photographs ... I might go a little crazy and sell some of my other passions as well ... as mismatched as they are. My store will be colorful and eclectic ... just like me :-)

I was also in the middle of setting up a photography site... to promote and sell my services. Nothing extrodinary to start off with, simple and affordable sessions, but the hope would be to build on it. I'm not super passionate about making a full time career out of portrait sessions, but I would get a lot of joy out of part time work ... helping people preserve their memories.

I also came across a children's story that I wrote several years ago. It's a really rough 1st draft, but the concept is so cute. I had such a warm, cozy, fond feeling while re-reading it. I'd like to do something with it. Polish it up, illustrate it, work to have it published. Dream Big or Go Home, right?! lol.

Ooh, and blogging, of course. I often mention how much better and balanced I feel when I blog regularly, and I often vow to get back into it ... yet it's usually the first thing I let slip when things start flying.

I am months behind on my dread updates, tsk tsk tsk ... lol!  Not to mention, our family has been through 3, yes THREE, surgeries since my last blog. We've had a birthday. A meeting (and hug!!!)with my favorite singer. No more training wheels vlog. Hooping vlog. And a little something called Mud Mania ... Ooh, I am far far behind! Stay tuned ...

(I may back date posts for archiving purposes. I'm crazy like that ... I like my posts to be dated for the specific day that the event occured. So, you may have to search for em!  Or I may just throw it all into one giant mega "catchup" post, which will require you set aside a chunk of time to really soak it all in. Either way ... it's going to trouble! lol! ).

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Happy 8th, Dreads!

Want to know one of the things that tops my list of love for you this month?

How you hold up in the face of humidity!
"I can stand you up at the gates of (a humid) hell, and you wont back down" ... thank you, Tom Petty, for a great song!

You are free to hang wildly and unrestrained without the insanely uncomfortable feeling of you frizzing out and sticking to my face! lol! I so love you for that!

I also love the chunky golden highlights that are swirled throughout you.
Fabulous, my dears, simply fabulous!

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