Riding it out

So I stopped writing for a spell. Why? For about 46 x 12 reasons. One of them was that life got super real and in my face and all I could focus on was breathing in and out, in and out, in and out until my lungs worked on their own and could perform the exercise without any instruction. They still need some encouragement most days, but it's getting more manageable and my red blood cells seem to be doing their job of oxygen delivery. Another reason is that there is a creeper out there who stalked my blog for years, so I turned off that Statcounter to live in bliss and ignore his weirdness. Then I waited. And waited. But the words have been stuck. I start sentences in my head, but can't complete them because the fun went away and my sass was covered up by a greasy film of stress.

I'm trying to get the fun back. I backed out of Blogher, let my other blog go into the sky and have returned to blogspot. Why not. It seems low pressure. There are no deadlines. I don't have to Tweet about any products or review any books. I'd like to do something fun here rather just rant about the lack of oxygen in my brain. I have colors in my head I'd like to share. Projects. Ideas. I'm really going to try to step around the piles of sick and regrets that have built up in the corners of our house, hell maybe I'll get out the broom and send them out the door in a swoosh of healthy cleansing.

I'm tired of rare diseases sucking the life from our family. I understand that they are here to stay and roost in arteries and the like, but not in mine. Hell and no. Today we are all upright, breathing and mostly cognitively functional. That's not half bad.

I love this picture. It isn't mine. 

I found it on Facebook without a photo credit. 

While I wait for the words to return in my head, these cats are awaiting the fishermen 

to return home with their day's catch