Friday, October 4, 2013


I have thirty minutes until my husband comes home.  Let's see if I can write anything.  Not that he would mind me writing--in fact, he encourages it, daily. "When's the last time you worked on your book?" he asks, noticing me on Facebook, or the Reds homepage. "Why don't you write?" he says, when I suggest watching an episode of Homeland or The Wire.

"I know. I should," I reply.  But then I don't.  I don't open up my book, I don't open up blogger.  I just can't do it when he's around--when anyone's around, really--unless they're, separately, working on their own tasks.

But I don't want to write about my lack of writing.

This has been an exciting summer, with my wedding and then my brother's wedding providing the bookends.  My dad flew in from Kenya at the start of May, and returned after Jonah's wedding in the middle of September.  It was nice having him home such an extended period -- and the day he returned to Nairobi was the same day the mall was attacked by terrorists from Somalia.  He's safe and was nowhere near it, he assures us.

Anyway, the bookends: my brother's wedding was beautiful, and I can't believe he's married.  They had an ice cream truck, and it was as awesome as it sounds.  His wife is actually our real estate agent, and helped us buy a house.  We close at the end of October.  So I guess this is my excuse (an excuse) for not writing.  Searching for houses, getting approved for loans, these things take time and energy.  When I wasn't doing that, all I wanted to do was watch TV or look at Facebook.  I knew there was something better I could do with my time, but I just didn't have it in me.

I always feel like such a dork, standing next to my handsome brothers.  But here we are, looking very related.  (My mom is awesome, and I love her dearly, but I don't have a similar picture with my brothers and her!)

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