I missed blogging.
I didn’t miss the endless battles against random attackers on my custom wordpress install, but I missed this.
I missed YOU.
So … I pouted. And I shuffled my feet in the dirt. And I hemmed and I hawed and I blew my procrastination down.
So here I am, back out there. A little older, not much wiser, and a little bit sassier. Whether you knew me as Tami, Taven, Whiskerwing, or even Egostistical Priest (hi there, old friends!) I’m still the same me.
It feels SUPER weird not having control over my fonts and layouts but at the same time it’s a little freeing. I mean, that’s one less thing for me to spend my oh-so-precious free time on, right? What’s that, compared to a few red links? (seriously, RED link text? What’s that all about? This theme may not get to stay ….
Since I’ve Been Gone
I own a house now.
Weird, right? Does it feel weird to hear it, because it totally feels weird to SAY it.
A house. I own it. With a grown-up mortgage and a lawn mower and everything.
I mean, it’s MY house. So the lawn mower is a fiskars motor-free jobby and there’s a gnome waving cheerfully from the ornamental cherry tree in the front lawn and I have a tiny room called the Hobbit Hole … but it’s still a house.
Adults have houses. The last movie I saw in theaters was Sing and it was SUPER fun and I still cried during it. I don’t FEEL very adult.
I could probably be persuaded to do a fun post with pics of the house after spring, when the trees all have leaves and I can do some landscaping (read: prettypretty flowers).
But yeah. It’s even got a guest bedroom. WITH A BED. Because adults sometimes have other people stay over at their place without making them sleep on the couch.
Anywhoozle, that’s one of the doozies.
The second and third doozies are both fluffy, purrful, sassifrassian kittencats. Most of you probably already know about them from Facebook, where they are purt-near the only thing I post about. For those who DON’T know about them, prepare to have your mind bing-dong-diddly-blown.
They’re semi-longhaired purebred Siberians. They are hypoallergenic (thus the purebred instead of shelter-rescue status, as I am very VERY allergic) and they are loving, sweet, noisy, hilarious, goofy, and gorgeous.
They are pure fluffy heaven and they keep my life interesting whether I want it or not.
Ollie is the Adventure Cat of the two. Nothing makes him happier than the sound of the velcro on his kitty holster indicating we’re going to go outside for a walk. Ollie is a brown tabby with high white.
Tiny, despite being a year younger than Ollie, is the larger of the two (naturally). He likes being warm. Fires in the fireplace (did I mention we have a fireplace now?), heated blankets, cuddles, the feet of random strangers … if it’s warm, he loves it. And he loves it LOUDLY with the squeakiest, most hilariously rumbling purr ever. Tiny is a (very white) cream-point. He looks like a toasted marshmallow.
View Their Extensive Flickr Album Here
Writing has been nearly null since last we spoke.
Not entirely null, but null enough. Life has been its usual change-loving self and I’ll honestly report that I was not as prepared for it as I thought I was.
Baby steps, though. No kicking, no recriminations for time lost.
All we have is what’s before us, and I hope to be stronger now than I was then. One of the things a blog did for me was provide structure, expectation, and an audience.
It seems although I am willing to construct stories just for myself, writing them down is something I don’t do for ME.
I do it for friends and family and loved ones, and strangers-like-me.
So we’ll see if a blog makes a difference. If nothing else, it’ll certainly help me get the rust of the old wordsmithery juicebox.
I’m sure there will be plenty of other stuff to talk about, but it’ll just have to come about organically because honestly, nothing’s going to top the cats.
Seriously. You should click that link. They aren’t even totes adorbz. They’re ridonk adorbz. And I know I’m biased, but everyone who meets them inadvertently squees, so I feel confident in the scientific nature of my assessment.