Long time no writey. The writing bug has been buzzing in my ear for the last week of so, but I'm grappling with the plight of those I had so self-righteously advised a year ago: "Just make time," I said, and sniffed at the air. Hm. Now I understand: Sometimes we're too damn busy to do anything but work and family.
Oh, but I have done things. For example, last month: fifty million gigs in honor of St. Patrick, who I honor not for his Catholicism (I'm Protestant) nor his Irishness (I'm an Eastern European mutt) but because I like beer and my husband.
Now. Just to prove the challenge: As I wrote that last sentence, I heard the telltale sounds of Soul Fry waking up. Thus ends today's essay, which was to be about immaculate conception, caffeine, and beer.
Stay tuned. I'll be back.