There’s a post brewing that I am so excited to write.

I’m excited to share it with you. It’s the end of the Hope saga. Perhaps end is the wrong word; something tells me that the Hope saga will be a theme in our lives for a very long time. This is just the next chapter. It took forever to show up, and it is going to take some dedicated time to sit down and write. Time I don’t have right this minute.

I’m busy trying to stay healthy and keep up with Leo. If you’ve met him you know this is a futile endeavor. I do my best by ordering pizza and distracting him by singing songs from Grease while he giggles and tells me I’m a good wife. That usually gets him down to about 99 miles an hour. Somewhere less than his usual blur. Then I hit him up with our cat and they converse for a while (a thing to be observed, truly the cat has verbal skills), this gets us to about 60 mph. Then if I sit on his chest and make the dog lick his face and hand feed him junk food I might get him down to 25mph. I used to think I lived a high speed life. Then I met him, I might as well be a Park Avenue to his Ferrari.

So I survived Christmas. Turns out I was trying to ignore it. Then it got me, then I had 34789 panic attacks and practiced deep breathing for 4 straight days and now here I am. I survived my first Christmas without Joel and turned thirty-five and I’m still breathing. I think that’s pretty good for one week.

Maybe I am a Ferrari.