It's a cryin' shame how long I've gone without posting over here.  

I don't apologize, you understand.  I just point out the fact.

I'm living life, sometimes posting over here, and pulling up my big girl pants as we face into cooler temps.

I've done nothing with the cottage in more than 5 months.

Again, I don't apologize, I just point out the fact.

My summer has been full of amazing discoveries and heartwrenching realities. Just truly delicious stuff slammed up next to redonculous, unrelenting randomness. 
Inbetween there hasn't been any desire to fix and frouf a house.  
In fact, I haven't even vacuumed or dusted or mopped.  Much.

(my amazing, gorgeous, precious, family...the impetus to drain every last drop of beauty out of life)

I don't know where this blog will fit into my life in the coming months.  I'm uber-ultra-sensitive right now in wonderful and terrifying ways....so I'm being careful about reading other blogs, visiting pinterest, or delving into the new season's deco mags.  It all can make me feel 'less than' if I'm not in a good head space, and I have to fight for that head space every.single.day.

I'm pursuing joy and contentment (and getting there sometimes), and I've done it without blogging and fixing my house.  I think there's a pretty good chance I'll pick this package up again sometime, but for now it's just gonna be taking up cyberspace, collecting dust and a few random comments.  

Mom's been under hospice care for the last several weeks, and things are winding down.  It's been a surreal experience, one I can't reconcile with all the other goodness happening in my life.  It is just what it is, and making the best of every moment means making the best of every moment.....even when that moment is sitting beside your dying mother when she should be enjoying her great granddaughter and nipping at your dad's heels to get the perennials in the ground before the first frost.  

There's something very gritty about watching someone who's been a tower of strength and creativity in your life struggle to suck liquid thru a straw.

I know life will be still be good on the other side of this transition.  But the goodness will be more poignant, and maybe a little ragged around the edges....because someone who should be in my life won't be in the same way.  There will always be a lingering 'mom would've loved this....' or 'Wish mom could see this....' at the end of every contented sigh, the threat of tears lacing thru a pang of longing.  It's the sharing I'll miss.  The comparing paint chips, and feminist theology, and trips to Pottery Barn, and raucous laughter over something one of my kids said or the outfit adorning some stuffy woman at the mall.  

Little things.  Life things.

Well, anyway, after the waiting is over....the waiting for death to visit us, I might get moved by the creative muse again, and find delight in sharing my decorating (mis)adventures here.  The instincts are still strong, but in this moment there are others stronger. 

Like I said, I don't apologize, I just point out the fact. 



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