Better Late Than... Really Late?

I'm behind. January has almost come and gone and I've written (almost) nary a word. I blame this on lots of things. Ready? Here we go:

1) Wonderful trips-- Who wants to write about delicious food, beautiful beaches, and amazing times on a sailboat when you're no longer on those crystal clear blue waters? I will write about it, I promise, but it just makes me want to go back!

2) Job transitions-- That's right; I'm no longer with my old job and have moved on to my new job. Or my new jobs, I should say (more on that later). Suffice it to say that I'm no longer at my computer (or home) for long stretches during the day, so while I still have those "I've gotta blog this!" moments, I'm not close enough to a laptop to get it down.

3) The ick-- I got sick, again, after getting home, which sent me on another round of antibiotics and through several more boxes of tissues. B has been a champ through it all, but I've had a harder time with it.

I'm not one of those graciously sick people. For all I know, my Mom has NEVER been sick, not in the 18 years I lived at home and rarely since. I'm sure she's suffered her fair share of flus, bugs, and colds, but you'd never know it. With me? You know it.

So while I'm snuggled and sniffling and trying to decide whether I should go to the doctor, which is problematic because I don't have a doctor here anyway, I'm also on the verge of tears (another "A is sick" indicator) and stubborn about slodding on through whatever I feel needs to be done. Plus, I remember how easy it was to call Mom and tell her how badly I felt and she'd go find Dad and make him call in meds for me. Spoiled, party of one? I have arrived.

But I'm back and determined to blog, mostly because I want to and love to, but also because it's good for me to keep writing. My day gig doesn't provide me with much of a writing-based creative outlet (though I can tell you 100 silly dances that go with any song on the radio), and since I'm not exploring my need to tell you I know all 100 silly dances in therapy, I figure I'll revert to my cheap therapy: A Taste In The Life. That's right. I'm back. I promise.