The Well Is Dry

It feels that the well has run dry, figuratively.  I don't want to speak of such a thing literally, because several of the houses we're looking at aren't on city water, and a well running dry is a scenario I don't want to play in my head.  But figuratively, I'm not feeling very creative.  I make the things I have to make.  I cook food that is unimpressive but fast and sometimes its just fast food.  But I just don't feel "it".  The "oooh my, this is perfect for blogging about!!" feeling. 

There was a second there where I feared I had lost "it" and then I realized that I hadn't had "it" in the first place.  I also realized that I'm tired of putting quotation marks around "it" and that I find double letters (like puTTing and leTTers) to be too (tOO) much trouble and I'm done with them.  Which is also an indicator that I'm just D-U-N done.  

What I'm trying to tel you is that my brain is fried and it sems that a smal part of it has fragmented and thinks that I should stil be doing all. the. things. and I just can't.

I'm also tired of purposely not writing any repeated letters, just to make a point, and so I'm done with that now.  BOOKKEEPPING.  Look, I can still double-letter with the best of them!  And that in itself fuels the teensy part of my brain that expects a fully functioning Mariah.

As I explained to my mother, we are in survival mode 'round these parts, and so today when I sent her the bag that she had won from Kerrie's giveaway (yes, my mom won, and no, I hadn't already made her a bag, and yes, I'm terrible), I wrote Happy Easter, Happy Mother's Day, and Happy Birthday on the package.  So I'm good through 4th of July with her.  

So basically, I wanted to let you know that this space will likely be scattered and a bit of a brain dump and also kind of quiet for a while.  And by "while" I obviously mean until September, when I will *hopefully* be settled and groovin' and doin' my thang without upset.  HA.  I feel like come September, I'll be linking back to this post to point out how ridiculous my plans were.  But whatevs, a girl has to dream.  And I dream of September.

In other news, I had to receive an award tonight which makes me feel highly uncomfortable.  It doesn't help that I was the last person to receive an award, so the entire time that I'm clapping for others and being impressed with their bio's, I'm rehearsing the walk up to the podium in my head.  I'm mentally receiving with the left, shaking with the right.  I'm curious if my bra strap is showing and grateful that I don't have to walk very far so I can turn around quickly in case it is.  The dress I wore tonight was the one that I altered back in April so that I could breastfeed while wearing it.  Kind of gave me flashbacks for a minute when I put it on, and I find it funny how something that I devoted so many hours to for so long (12 months, 1 day, to be exact) seems so foreign now.  And by altered, I mean that I sewed bright red zippers into both sides of my plum dress, because that's what my MIL had on hand 20 minutes before we had to leave for Handsome's cousin's wedding.  Luckily I didn't have to fist pump when I received my award, and so no one saw the zippers.

Handsome did take an hour or two off of work to come to my awards banquet, though, so I am going to count it as a date, albeit a very lame one with mediocre food.  But still, a date, on the books for April.  I've got plans in my very teensy fragmented brain for better dates, one to the brand new Cabelas (for him) and one to the indoor trampoline park (for me) (and my friend Meghan) (its gonna have to be a double date).  But I think those might have to be May dates.

Also - my dogwoods have died.  Shortest dogwood blooming ever.  The blossom's lives cut short by an ill-timed and unforeseen frost.  The  Azaleas have put in an even poorer showing that usual, which is almost impressive in a way, seeing as how they're often pretty for exactly 3 days.

In closing, my daughter looks like a construction worker when she wears tank tops.  That is all.

<3 M.