Ever finish a novel and feel sad? Last night I finished Youngblood Hawke, by Herman Wouk and tonight I feel like I’ve been stood up for a date. It’s a huge book and I was into it all the way. Every night when the Hobbit went to bed, I tip-toed down the hall to get the book and dove right in.  The husband’s been on the road for two weeks now and this book has kept me company all that time. The entire weekend past I was torn between wanting to escape with it and dreading the final act – that last full stop and those blank filler pages at the back.   Last night I got there, and tonight, well, I suppose the best thing I can say for myself is that I’m posting an entry on my blog for the first time since May.

I do have other excuses (for not posting, that is). Just days before I posted that last entry I’d found out I was pregnant, and just days after that the worst weeks of the pregnancy began.  That’s right, woe was me.   There began fourteen weeks of mental fog, constant nausea, exhaustion and blues that some days were as dark and deep (and not nearly as pretty) as a midnight sky.

But, I’m through all that now. I have more energy and more interest in life, less need to eat as often as I breathe and generally more pep in my step. I can play with Hobbit1 and enjoy the new movements of Hobbit2, or newbaby as we like to call it around here. I can read a novel without falling asleep. And I can post a little of this and that on my blog.  Here’s to that.