Taking a Bite Out of It All

Hi, remember me?

I know, it's been a long time since I last posted and I apologize, particularly to my number one reader, Cort, who has been nudging me gently toward the keyboard with her Facebook inquiries. I've made a pact with myself to post at least twice a week and I intend to keep it.

My friend K*, who blogs here, warned me of the difficulties of juggling my momma self and my writing self and while I listened, I had no clue how it would play out. Obviously, I didn't foresee the wall I would hit until it was too late and here I am, six months later, just getting back into the swing of things.

In the past six months, I've done little more than tend to E, stare into space, watch trash TV, troll Hoboken Moms and Craigslist and eat. I've gained weight and lost brain cells but after a week spent on the River Thames with my Walking Girls, I feel refreshed and ready to return to a better version of my former self.

I'm looking forward to writing, running, working out, traveling, exploring, and organizing. I'm going to stop biting my nails (and fingers, knuckles, thumbs...) and start taking more satisfying bites out of life.

Matty and I have decided to fully embrace small space living; he's generously given me the green light to consult interior designers who specialize in urban spaces so hopefully by September, our flat will be transformed and each member of our family will have a room of one's own.

The sale of Ash Street fell through, so if you know anyone interested in a single family home in Watsontown, let me know. It needs more than just a little TLC but that house has great bones and could be a fine family home. And the price is just ba-na-nas - cheaper than a fully loaded Tahoe or Yukon...

Now that I'm pack on this side of the pond, I'm going to spend this week systematically going from one end of our flat to the other purging at least 50% of its contents; if you want to benefit from that purge, be at 413 Elm Street in the 17777 on Yard Sale Day at the end of September. Everything. Must. Go. We're morphing our style from shabby-chic/Country Living (think magazine, not Boyd's Bears) to Mid-Century Modern-meets-Fabulous Beekman Boys-meets baby friendly decor, so I'm embracing mimimalism.

I'll keep you posted!

* Ashley and Celine, you'll want to check out her blog - she's a true superhero: when she's not posing as mom to adorable twins, she's making huge strides as a professor of teacher education, specializing in literacy and the importance of infusing writing and 21st Century practices across curriculum at all levels. She's one of my professional role models.

Blog Like No One Is Reading...

... that is until your MIL asks you for the URL.

A few weeks ago, my online BFF, Amanda, wrote a post about blogging like no one is reading. Although Amanda and I have never met in person (yes, I know - that sounds weird and squirrely but it's totally normal for people in online communities to meet online and become friends: do you think connecting online is solely reserved for the folks looking for love on eHarmony?), we have established a nice little textual friendship and I adore her - she's the younger and way cuter, way cooler blonde version of myself. You know, the one my mother has been bemoaning all the years of my life with her "somewhere out there, there is a little blond haired child who belongs to me" statement?

Anyway, I totally agree with Amanda's philosophy on blogging and I try to do the same myself; I know that not everything I write in this blog is going to please everyone and I recognize that some of my posts are a tiny, tiny bit edgy and express opinions some people think but are afraid to say. Notice I used the adjective tiny twice; as a blogger, I am more reserved that many of my blogging role models. I'm not proud of this and actually, I'm jealous of their forthrightness. Whereas I strive for transparency and honest expression, I'm aware of my audience and therefore I don't always "say what [I] need to say" but I'm working up to it.

Which brings me to today's dilemma: at my rain soaked wedding reception Saturday afternoon, my dear friend Peggy (whom I consider my friend even though technically, she's one of my mom's best friends) mentioned my blog to my MIL. Peggy is one of my regular readers and the two of us share a bond that is nothing short of kismet. My MIL is a lovely, lovely woman and I admire her; she is strong, independent, smart, and computer/Internet savvy, in addition to being a fantastic mother and mother in law.

But I don't want to give her my blog's URL.

Is that shitty of me? I can't quite explain why I don't want to give it to her; it's hard to put the reason into words so let me just say that I think some relationships work best when a bit is left to the imagination.

I am an odd bird. That's not a surprise to anyone, I'm sure, but what may come as a surprise is the difference between what outsiders label "quirks" and what I know are my "oddities". The majority of my family, friends and associates would never dream that I am reclusive by nature, almost reticent. I adore being alone and have found ways to be just that, even when surrounded by others. Matty and I enjoy our insular moments just as much as, and perhaps more than, our social ones.

I am self revealing when it comes to 70% of my life but that remaining 30% is highly guarded and is what, to me, is truly valuable. Despite my myriad of friendships, there are only 6 other residents of All Ali, All the Time Town (or Alitown as it's more commonly known) and for 5 of them, it's not their primary residence, unlike poor Matty who was practically dragged across the border and now has to live here with me full time.

Another small, small number (probably 10 people) live in the border regions of Alitown and visit when need arises, which is often, followed by a much larger group who live on the outskirts of town and get the benefits of visiting every now and again and who are usually quite happy to leave and return to the safety of the suburbs.

My MIL doesn't live in Alitown, on its border, or even in its suburbs; she lives in her own beautiful town in another part of the region and therefore our visits require advance notice and planning, which afford both of us the luxury of tidying up and taking out the garbage before the other arrives at the front door.

Because Alitown is a city and parking is a bitch, instead of adding stress to her life, we make the journey to visit her at her peaceful spot on the lake where we can all enjoy the quiet and the view.

So, what's La Pointe Of It All? It's this: I would rather visit her than have her come here. We enjoy the trip to the lake and she enjoys the visits; there's no need for her to come to Alitown and for now, I think that is best.