Who Says You Can't Go Home Again?

No one....but the new place just didn't feel quite right. I never settled in like I hoped. I didn't quite adjust to the new digs. And so here I am, in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm, back on familiar ground.

I've had an eventful summer, to say the least. I learned to shoot a rifle...or 3...and a handgun...or 5...I spent the 4th of July in Washington DC with one of my favorites and met some wonderful people. I let an old flame be rekindled in the spring...then snuffed it out immediately when I remembered how being with him was sometimes just as awful as it was wonderful...even though there will always be a part of me that loves him in a way. (And for god's sake, please don't think it was THAT old flame. As far as I'm concerned, he doesn't--or shouldn't--exist.) I also realized what a good thing I had going with someone else...someone who was still fairly new...and just like that, I knew I didn't want to lose it. So I owe him that...I owe him a lot, really. For as much as I've complained about N over the past 2 years, I've learned far more from him. He's actually pretty great in a lot of ways...and one day, he's going to grow up and be amazing...for someone else.

I started running again...then broke my ankle a couple of weeks ago...just a small fracture, but damn, it hurts. I got to take Emily to the Kings of Leon benefit concert the night before it happened, though. I listened patiently as my excited daughter relayed the account of her first kiss. I had a first kiss of my own, too. Two, actually...I met a wonderful guy in the spring who has absolutely no idea that he's wonderful...and if there's one thing I've learned over the past year, self-doubt can really eat your lunch...

As for Michael, he barely crosses my mind. And that's as it should be...that trash was picked up from my curb long ago.

My puppy keeps getting ever larger...he is 85 pounds at the age of 7 months. That means he's been gaining 10.5 pounds a month since I got him. He outweighs Sara by close to 15 pounds...he's tall enough to eat scraps from the sink and food off the stove if you're not careful...he likes potatoes.

And Sara...oh, my little soul sister.  She told me the other day, "Mommy, I really don't want you to ever get remarried." I was surprised. I explained that although I like having a boyfriend, I also like having my own house and my own life, and I can't imagine living with someone else right now.

She sighed, visibly relieved. "Good. Because I really like living in a house of all girls. I never have to wear pants..."

These are the glory days, folks. This is the good stuff. :-)