Don't worry, blog. I have not forsaken you for Twitter, or Instagram, or anything else. It's just that sometimes I don't have a lot to say, and right now is one of those times. (Also: I will never leave you for Twitter. I HATE TWITTER. YES, I UNDERSTAND TWITTER, AND YES, I STILL HATE IT. Ahem. Maybe it works for you! I love cilantro, but lots of folks hate that, so don't worry: we shall agree to disagree.)
Here, things are chugging along. In with the old, out with the new. I cut my hair off--two years of growing it out and I was generally enjoying it, and then one day I woke up and was like NOPE, GIRL, WHO ARE YOU FOOLING. And then it was gone, and I can feel the breeze on my neck again.
We also took the B's car to the junkyard in the sky, or the one down the road where the feral dogs like to hide under rusted parts when it gets too hot out. And I had some poems taken by The Southern Review and River Styx, which makes me so very happy. And I sent Rook out into the world, so fingers crossed. Fail again, fail better. And there are sugar magnolias in bloom. And big bloody holes where my wisdom teeth used to be. Some things change, and some things do not.
I hope that it's starting to look like spring where you are. Or I hope that you have bought big bouquets of tulips and daffodils from the market and put them in the rooms of your home. Sometimes, that is enough.
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