Something, Anything...

If anybody is still bothering to check this, here it is...a long awaited post. You are probably expecting to read fun and entertaining stories about my trip to Puerto Vallarta, since that is where I last left off. While I have some bits and pieces drafted, I just wasn't able to put it all together when I came home. I blame it on a combination of being too busy working the first few weeks immediately after I returned home (my December resolve to stop working all together obviously was still out the window) and writers' block, which I am blaming on my psychiatrist for the medication cocktail he insists I take (I have to blame someone!!!). I promise details of the trip will come in time. For now, I can tell you that the highlights were meeting our trip-mates Shelley, Al, and James; cruising high above the jungle on a zipline; having guacomole made fresh for us at our table at Pipi's; and Andales, a tiny bar where Betty served up shooters plus and we danced our asses off to everything from Al's favourite "Alice, Alice, Who the F--- is Alice?" (I don't know if this is the actual name of the song, but you know what I'm talking about) to "The Twist" and everything in between. It was like Jack FM on crack and no doubt the best little bar I've ever been to. Sigh. I'm sure there are many more highlights, I just can't rustle them up right now.

So what's going on now? Well, I'm not working much at all. April seemed busy and still that writers' block. Sometimes my mind wanders around words to write but I can't get them on the page. It's not like there's no subject matter. There is a plethora of subject matter! Dave and I had two absolutely fabulous ski trips to Whistler. Dave had a birthday. Dave quit smoking. I have now quit smoking. (yes, you read that correctly!) And of course there are numerous little things that go on that I could turn into pages (ie. the lovely but ginormous BBQ that now takes up what seems to be half my patio space, ruling out a herb garden (Dave I love you); the crows that continue to mess up said patio by dropping everything from shells to cigarette butts on it; the wonderful new patio set I have from which to enjoy the most beautiful sunsets; just to name a few more recent ones). But everytime I thought to write something, I couldn't. Then my mood took one of its usual little crashes so the thought of even waking up, let alone writing was too much. Now as I'm coming out of that fog, and needing to fill time that was previously spent smoking, I figured I should just start typing. Don't think. Don't try to write. Just write. Something. Anything. They say that is what you are supposed to do. I guess it works. Or at least helps. I've got two paragraphs and can now post something! As George Constanza once said, "I'm back baby! I'm back!" (I hope, I more meekly say).