I Speak Starbulese

Wasn't it just a day or so ago I was singing "Back to life.. back to reality,"? Well, I didn't mean it then. NOW it's back to life. Waking up to an alarm clock, smack in the middle of a bifurcated dream about a ski vacation happening within the confines of South Africa. (Read: RUDE alarm clock.) Having to dress, even if it's in yoga gear. Downing some caffeine, out of necessity, not just because someone made it. Having to shuttle out of the house on time. Making it to my Asian yogis.

As I reheat my Tall Decaf Americano, debating the merits of having a 'usual' coffee at Starbucks (speaking the barista's Starbulese,) I sort out my thoughts vis a vis, the blog. One of my compatriots at Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson, where I worked briefly during our 2-year Charlottesville stint, used to defend my practice of talking to myself as good: It helps to organize your brain, she used to say. Well, I think blogging sorts the brain as well. For example, what the hell am I talking about?

Last night, in my overexhuberance over my blog award, and my apparent premonition about losing our game, I decided to pour my bowl of chili on the living room couch. If any of you blogging Moms (or those of you in Hong Kong or Sweden) have any clues as to how one would successfully get that out, barring an entire bottle of Resolve, let me know! I'm happy to share my recipe for the chili, in exchange. I'm all ears.

My point here? I do have one. It's that there is no gentle way to get back to one's life, when one takes a hiatus from it for a while. Is this analogous to staying home with a child? Do you ever fully come back? There's no blog post long enough for that one.