Why is it that belly button jam smells the exact same as toe jam?

It’s strange the things that send us meandering back to our blogs after months and months away. Not that there IS any reason in particular that I showed up tonight. It’s just strange that there ARE things. I couldn’t sleep and was done with my book and was finally bored with watching movie trailers on Imbd, so I clicked on my folder in favorites marked “Diversions” and idly let the mouse fall over my blog name. I tapped one finger, and after thirty seconds, there I was, wearing that same tired old Morticia Addams outfit and taking a picture of myself in the school bathroom. Oh, and look! There was the same old regurgitated phrase that my eye always falls on: “versional pink.” YAWN. I figured anything would be better than having to see those ancient chestnuts again, which is surprisingly the same thing I think whenever I see myself naked in the mirror.

PLUS, I’ve been appreciative of my faithful bloggeteers who don’t seem to follow the credo “Out of sight, out of mind.” I’ve recently heard from Jennifer and Talena and Aakanksha and Christine and Beth and Twyla and Heather Anne, all of whom have sent me loving regards in some way or another, despite the fact that I’ve essentially ignored them for the equivalent of an ice age so as to better fix my eyes on my own fuzzy navel offerings. You guys are awesome chickydoodles.

So, this summer I spent a month in Oregon cosying (I’m so international) into the bosom of my family. It was a balm to my spirit because I’m OH so tired of living in the south. The south is nice. The south has great storytellers and crackling-good thunderstorms. It has sausage gravy and grits. It has some of YOU. But it doesn’t have my family, and as I’ve gotten older and tend to look backward more often than I do ahead, I appreciate them like I never did before. I also hung out with Lorraine and Kary, friends from way back, both of whom I have kissed on the lips in a non-sexual manner, and I miss THEM, too. Everybody spoiled me way past the pretty point. I visited with Scott’s parents, who are struggling with but refusing to back down to his dad’s lung cancer. It was good to see them. Oregon is home.

Big chunk news items: I’m in school, Scott is still distributing beer and wine, Van is training to be a cage-fighter (wouldn’t THAT be awesome? No, he’s living in Oregon with my parents and going to firefighter school); Jesse is working as a cook at Ruby Tuesday’s, and Torie is a senior in high school and looking forward to wedding bells next summer.

Here’s Lorraine and me in her beautiful backyard. You can tell I’m really happy to be there. And if you’re wondering why I’m always propping my chin on my hand in pictures? That’s easy. My head is too big to stay up on its own.