Wife, writer, tinkerer, grower of food. I'm happiest outside our rambling farmhouse with a basket looped on my arm, picking dinner from the garden. That's joy right there. Please follow along; I'm so glad you're here!
Christmas, 2014: check! There was much carousing, there was the eating of Christmas cookies, there was caroling, giggling, presents, and way too much to drink. There was Del, tearing open his new (honking) pheasant toy (and efficiently giving it a tracheotomy) on Christmas eve. There was a bright, sunny, warm day the day after Christmas, and we all stood around blinking (and groaning) because we legitimately had not had a sunny day since before Thanksgiving. The next day, and the day after that, we hiked.
Nothing feels better than a good hike after indulgence.
And now, on with this business of seeing out the year. 2014. Better than 2013. Still tough, though, but there's... cough, pardon me... there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last. I'm finally starting to figure it out, I think-- that I want to do more than just write, that even if I'm doing incredibly fascinating work, the will to sit at my desk 40 hours a week just isn't there. Even 20 feels like a stretch sometimes. But I do enjoy it, I do like flexing my brain muscles, and you can't beat the overhead. So off I am merrily going, in 2015, to build a champion hybrid life: to grow the Etsy shop, to find a better writing gig, to support Patrick's departure from his (soul-sucking) job that he's needed to leave for years, to figure out how we're going to stay solvent financially in the interim. It needs to happen this year. It has needed to happen for years, actually, and yet they have flown past and nothing has changed. But no longer. THIS IS THE YEAR. I'm sure of it. No kitchen to remodel (woo hoo!) no major life changes, no menacing car repairs (knock on wood). This is the year. Fingers crossed.