it was the best of times. it was the worst of times.

First, I have to admit that I have a degree in English, and I've never read A Tale of Two Cities.  It's shameful, I know, but it's the truth.

Second, I got on a hot little blogging streak (for me anyway) there for a little bit, and I know all you precious fans of the blog were giddy with anticipation at my opinionated renaissance, and then I went and abandoned you again.  Sorry.  Life (and death unfortunately) intervened as it is wont to do.

Third, I have to say that I have the best real-life friends and family in the world who have covered me up with love and kind thoughts and prayers in the passing of my sweet Grams last week.  Many of those friends are readers here, so thanks again for all that you have done and are doing for me.

Fourth, in the midst of a grief-filled week or so, I got some really good news on other fronts including a bit of a promotion and pay increase at work and acceptance into graduate school.  I'm not exactly excited about library school itself, but I'm excited about what it represents, namely getting a piece of paper that will mean that I'm worth more money and qualified to boss more people and do less work.  The promotion-y thing has so far been really interesting and time-consuming, and it's sort of just the thing I needed to get me out of my work rut.

Fifth, although the occasion for our gathering was solemn, I had the most spectacular time with my family over the past week or so.  We talked and laughed and ate and remembered and cried and hugged and didn't take each other for granted.  One of the best moments was when the eight grandkids--four cousins, three siblings, and me--gathered at Grams's house to pick out a memento or two to take home and treasure.  It could have been morbid or mean, full of selfishness or jealousy, but it was perfect.  We relived little pieces of our childhoods together and cared about each other's feelings more than our own and came away with just the perfect things to remind us.

Sixth, my moma has had a hard time lately, and you know that doesn't sit well with me.  She was diagnosed on Wednesday with a hiatal hernia, which is actually kind of good news as she finally has a medical explanation for how badly she's been feeling.  Thursday morning she was going work for the first time in over a week, and she fell coming off our back steps.  She has distal fibula fractures in both legs.  One's quite a bit worse than the other, and she's banged and bruised and beat up besides.  Bless her poor old heart.  I'm going to have to head back to my old Kentucky home tonight to see about her.  For those keeping score, yes--I have been back in Arkansas for less than 48 hours.

I wanted to end on a happier one, but I ran out of thoughts.  Shocking, I know.  Still, it's nice to be back to a blogging normal, even if I'm not up to my usual standard of excellence.  Thanks for coming, imaginary readers.  I miss you when we're apart.