A Funk

Have not blogged in several days, mostly because I’m not feeling so hot. I’ve been in the funkiest of funks.

I’ve got mad writer’s block and can barely muster a rewrite most days (which is as easy as it sounds). And I’m also in one of those ruts the other writers will understand, where you hate every single word you’ve ever written, so you don’t even want to use those drafts you set aside for just such a blocky situation.

I am also letting the idea settle in that we are not likely going to be able to afford to travel for the holidays. Which is always sad, and stresses me like you would not believe. The way prices are at the moment, airfare alone would run us about $1200 to $1500, and that’s not counting the food and the gas and the hotel and the car and blah blah blah. We just don’t have that kind of dough lying around.

And Bowie. Dear, sweet Bowie. He should get an Oscar for some of these tantrums, seriously. The screaming and hitting have not waned. The potty training is happening sometimes, but really mostly not happening. And just, you know, Terrible Twos. And a lot of moms are telling me that Three is worse. Which makes me want to hide my head in the sand.

I also just haven’t felt well physically. I’ve been running with my husband, which has stirred up a lot of old injuries (post-surgery feet, post-arthritis knee, etc.). And I thought I had, um, digestive issues before, but LORD. Something about the way I’ve been eating lately is taking its toll. And hubbs seems to have brought a cold home from the office that we’re all starting to get.

So there you go. Now that I’ve been the Debbie Downer for you all, maybe things will get better. But, I’m still here, still attempting to blog, muddling through the Terrible Twos and, well, surviving, I guess.