I haven't written here for years. It's like an old dark country house I used to visit, thinking someday I might even plant a garden here, put up some curtains, and make it home. Never happened. Resentment must still be seething from my mantra. "Comon, I had a blog before the word blog was even invented! But now it's time to get over that.
Today is our 24th anniversary and my last married year before I turn 50. Growing up, I always thought 50 year old women were grandmothers, not moms of 10 year old children like I am. I also thought it was too depressing to have kids too early, so I started late, never thinking about how it might cramp my style to be a middle age mom of an elementary school kid. Many of my friends who had kids early have the parenting part out of the way. I'm in no way resentful. In fact, I wouldn't want it any other way.
My life is one big mixup of the war between literature and litigation, between writing memoir and rental management. And now tax season looms.
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