I didn’t think I’d ever write again.

I’m not trying to be dramatic; if so, I would admit this with a slumped neck and the back of my hand held to my forehead. If you’re not dramatic like a southern belle, well you’re just not dramatic at all.

No, there’s no drama in the statement that I didn’t think I’d ever write again. It was just a matter of fact; a brick wall into which I ran. Actually, I just kind of walked into it and there I gazed into the mortar every day, trying to move my feet forward while facing that brick wall. I took steps, but I didn’t go anywhere.

What bothered me, was that this didn’t bother me. I was okay with being in this place, because I didn’t really have any other choice. There was this ho-hum acceptance of where I was over the last couple of months. Ho-hum, brick wall, la dee dah.

So what were the things that kept me from writing? If I had to guess I’d say first and foremost, winter. If I could weave you any tale with grandeur, it would be my disdain for winter. It would sound very Shakespearean and involve a lot of “doths,” like, “Back off winter, I am doth DONE with you.”

Because of my husband’s schedule, I spent a lot of January in a bad place; a lonely, dark, FREEZING COLD place. Hi, honey! Love you! It was so bad that I actually looked at homes for sale in L.A. Mmm hmm, Los Angeles, people. I needed real people to talk to and I didn’t care if they were complete strangers and mostly said, “Dude.”

But, February meant my husband was home more often and it means that March is coming soon and thank goodness it’s a short month! *said with slumped neck and back of hand to forehead*

There was also the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman. No, I didn’t know him. I didn’t even know his name was spelled with one ‘l’ until he died, but when he passed it felt like someone came up behind me at the brick wall, picked me up and threw me into it.

I know people who have died from heroin overdoses. I know people who are in jail because of heroin. It’s personal. And, here was this guy with nearly-limitless resources, talent, assistants, managers, and no doubt housekeepers and a nanny, who could not keep this demon at bay. That scares me.

What about the people who are struggling to just keep their jobs and houses out of foreclosure, and take care of the kids, who might have the urge to take away some of the stress and pain? How do we stop them from using heroin to take them to a place that makes them feel better? How do we stop them from trying it the first time? How do we make sure our kids don’t try something the FIRST TIME? I still don’t know the answer to that. Damn it.

And there was Dylan Farrow (I will not type his name here), the terror threats in Sochi, and so much unbelievable news that I just couldn’t be that One. More. Voice. on the Internet.

But then something snapped, and by snapped I mean it was like a twig soaked in water, then bent back and forth until the bark came off. Then I twisted the wet, woody fibers underneath and gnawed on them a little. It was like that kind of snap. All of a sudden, or not suddenly at all, I wanted to write again.

And, I can’t really tell you why. Maybe it was my med changes, spring on the horizon, tougher workouts, completion of some work projects, more time with friends…I don’t know and it doesn’t matter. All I know is that I turned my back on that brick wall and I was writing.

I don’t know which direction I’m heading, but damn it feels really good to be moving again.

Follow

Email

Has it been a week since I last posted? Wow. Time flies when you’re freaking out.

Let’s review the last seven days, shall we?

* It was really, really hot. Like, go out and water the flowers at 7:30am and come back in looking like you ran through the sprinkler, but it’s-really-just-sweat-hot. I killed four plants last week. Two of mine and two of my neighbor’s. My daughter and I were even tag-teaming the neighbor’s flowers and we still killed them. Call us to watch your house!

* I drank a lot of STRAW-BER-ITAS. Have you had one? Full disclosure: They are a BlogHer ’13 sponsor, but that’s not why I’m telling you how good they are. They’re just really good. So, I drank a lot of them. The end.

yo’. I’ll see you again soon.

* I can’t remember the last time I did the dishes. It’s good to have a 14 year old.

* I went to the doctor for my numb hand and got, what I thought was a steroid shot, but it was in fact Ketamine (an anesthetic). I slept pretty well that night. NOW, I’m on steroids. And, my hand is still numb and I’m kind of raging, but my cheeks are rosy!

* Out of desperation for happy conference feet, I bought a pair of Birkenstocks from Zappos. I’m happy they have free returns.

* My in-laws visited. I love them. A friend of mine lost both of her in-laws in a car accident last week. I can’t imagine the depth of that loss.

* I normally drink apple cider vinegar every day, but lately I’ve just been eating sea-salt and vinegar potato chips instead. To recap, the diet is STRAW-BER-ITAS, potato chips, and steroids.

* My daughter is so competitive that in order to break a record on one of the rides at the church festival (in which you ride in a cage and build momentum to flip over the top) she came home on Friday with the biggest blisters I’ve ever seen. About 17 of them. On Saturday, I did what any good mom would do and taped up her hands ala Rocky so she could take another shot.

* I leave for Chicago in two days and I have roughly 8,000 tasks to complete. If you don’t see me for another week, you’ll know why. Don’t blame Bud Light. It’s only half their fault.

Follow

Email

Can you buy yourself a cake for a blogoversary? Because today’s my 6th and I kind of want cake. Six years and almost 900 posts; that’s a whole lot of crazy, right there. We all deserve some cake for that. Pie, too.

When I started blogging I knew nothing. NUTH-ING, as evidenced by my first post, which was actually my third post because I kept accidentally deleting it. My lack of tech knowledge was an embarrassment to geeks everywhere. Now I speak at conferences about social media analytics and the geeks are all, “You are our people. Come, let us show you Star Trek things.”

When I started blogging my daughter was eight years old, now she’s getting ready to start high school. If your small child is in the room, stop reading immediately and give them a hug. Hurry up, because before you know it they’ll be asking for the car keys.

I’ve written about a lot of death. I don’t want to write about that any more.

This space has seen me through a concussion, the swine flu/pulmonary embolism scare of 2009, surgeries for me and my son (he’s had three to my one; he’s such an over-achiever), anxiety, insomnia, a change to a vegan diet brought on by high cholesterol, and a colonoscopy. If you have a health question, just let me know. I’m like Web M.D., but in my case the “D” stands for disaster.

I have made unbelievable friends because of this blog; far too many to mention, actually. You know who you are. *fist bump*

Thank you to the hundreds of thousands of you who have read this blog and to my husband and kids for never minding that my head is buried in a computer screen. Thank you to BlogHer for being the catalyst to a major life change and for giving me an annoying level of confidence. And, thank you to the companies who sponsor me in this space. Each and every one of you are rock stars. Yes, YOU!

Now, I shall eat cake.

Follow

Email

I just got back from a business trip in Austin, Texas.

I had the immense pleasure of speaking on a professional panel with my wonderful friends and co-workers Denise and Melisa. I totally got my geek on.

As if social media measurement wasn’t enough to get me excited, there were also a lot of margaritas.

And, when I got tired of regular margaritas, there were avocado margaritas.

And, cotton candy.

And good friends.

Photo shamelessly taken from Melisa’s FB wall.

And kids of friends.

And 20 minutes of me trying to figure out how to take a picture in my new, awesomely soft, Home T shirt without making Ohio come out backward. I blame the margaritas.

The Home. T sent me this shirt to wear to the American Dairy Association Mideast and Ohio Poultry Association party. Ohio REPRESENT! But, I wore it the night before because I could. Not. Wait.

And, there was heat. Lots of it. So there was also a lot of time spent in front of fans. Luckily, I look like a model and the wind just enhanced it.

There were also the heartwarming and soul-filling stories told by food bloggers, a lot of guacamole, engaging sponsors, and a chance to work in the same room with my co-workers who all live on the other side of the country. It was an exhausting, cankle-creating few days, but worth every bit of work we put into it.

I can’t wait for 2014.

Follow

Email