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Every few months or so I get the bright idea that I might want to start blogging again. I get this brilliant idea for a post, but the sheer energy it takes me to even think about putting pen to paper (or in my case, hands to keyboard) is enough to keep these delightful pearls of wisdom away from this world wide web. I'm not sure if you should consider yourselves lucky per say but seeing as though I can almost guarantee no one will be reading this but me, I'd say you, whoever you may be out there, are lucky. To say I miss writing, well now that would just be one big giant understatement. I think about it all the time. Things will pop into my mind at the most inopportune moments, such as when I am elbows deep in suds in the kitchen sink, washing yet another mountainous pile of bottles. No, not vodka bottles. Baby bottles. Although the other option would be more fun and probably steer this blog in an entirely different direction. I will write out thoughts in my head, hoping that when I get a spare moment I will remember enough of it to put it on paper or get it somewhere on my computer, before my newly mommy-brain kicks in and everything is wiped clean. And every so often, a savory gem will pop in my head when I do in fact have a moment. These are hard to come by an typically filled with me taking a much needed shower at break neck speed, which at times has almost lived up to its name of break-neck. The times I have managed to carve out a bit of space to write, its hard. It feels...unnatural. Which if you know anything about me, which me being the only reader here, I do in fact, this should not be the case for me. Now don't get me wrong. Just because I say that writing should in fact feel natural for me, is not me making any claims that I might be good at it. Just that it's something I did for a long time. And ok, maybe a teensy bit that I feel I may be good at it. Or at least that I was pretty good at it. It's weird to feel rusty at this. Now I am plenty smart, however, the way I write and what I do in my day to day life typically involves a different part of my brain. So when I sit down to write, often I stump myself on the words I'm looking for to express myself. Its been so long since I've used words like inopportune and mountainous or the like. Unless I'm calling my husband a mountainous poop-head. And that doesn't happen often. At least not to his face. It's weird to sit down to do something so familiar and be at a loss of what I am trying to say, and the words it takes to say it. Or to dust my old friend, wit, off the shelf and try to use it in its proper context. My brain feels fuzzy even now as I attempt to explain how fuzzy I feel. I guess I should chalk it up to having had a baby 10 weeks ago, to not having wrote (written?) in such a very long time. Either way, I have this need to write, fuzzy or not. I'm hoping my lack of intellectual stimulation hasn't done some permanent damage to my brain that will result in me only being able to call my husband a big poop head and make this writing thing hard hard each and every time. I'm not sure what this space will be for me but if anything maybe it can become a place of comfort again.