Sometimes things are not funny. And sometimes days are much harder than you thought they were going to be. Sometimes you think you're fine...and then you're not. Sometimes no amount of boxed wine or sweat on the spinning bikes or shopping at Kohl's will make it any better. Sometimes you just have to spin around and face it head-on. Sometimes you have to take it like a man. Sometimes you have to feel it like a woman.
This is one of those times. Monday is my due date. In my quest to block it from my mind entirely, I've been stringing beads and creating rosaries and drowning in Olympic coverage. I haven't been blogging and sad to say, I haven't been reading your blogs, either. I miss them profusely and as soon as these pieces go in the mail tomorrow and we welcome home 5 heroes from Afghanistan, I'm back to stalking you. As a heads-up, I'm posting Shepherd's record of delivery on Monday. I feel like if I let the day pass without any mention, it would be unfair to his memory.
It has his tiny little footprints on it.
Monday is not for the faint-of-heart.
You've been warned.
Until then, please enjoy a rosary I created for Deborah's Place, an organization that provides transitional and permanent housing to homeless women in the Chicago area. It will be auctioned off in a few weeks with all proceeds benefiting Deborah's Place.
I'll be back in full blogging form after the 22nd. Sometimes work is all that will save you. And love. But love won't wear my pendant necklaces to Kroger. He said they draw too much attention to his chest hair. So, I'll work and sell and watch Americans in funny pants skatebump their way down a big hill. And I'll be reading you. So, don't talk about me.