Surviving shingles, which was the single worst thing to ever happen to me.
Creating space for my husband to be creative.
Sleeping eight hours a night, or at least aiming for it.
Dreaming of what I’d like to say to women in a book someday.
Watching LOST with my stepsons.
Cooking one new recipe per week.
Learning to homestead, by tilling and planting and preparing for pullets.
Purging my house of clutter and clothes, when kids aren’t home to contest.
Writing down goals each month and not meeting all of them.
But my fingers itch and my iPhone’s voice memos fill up and the words just come while I sit in bubble baths.
So I’m ready to write again.