Excuses, excuses

I realize I've neglected my blog over the past week. I've been too busy to post for the most part, which is really saying a lot because if you read this thing, you know that I am rarely too busy to post a simple blog entry. But somehow, finally, I managed to get pretty busy and in the midst of it all, I decided to visit my grandmother this weekend. She recently had surgery and has been staying in a rehabilitation facility in New Jersey, near my aunt. I came up with this perfect plan. I'd drive up to visit my friend Sara, who lives in Media, PA - just outside Philly - Friday night, drive to New Jersey the next day, drive back to see my parents in D.C. Sunday night, and then be back home in Chapel Hill Monday morning.

However, as trips often do, this one didn't go exactly as expected. I'll spare you full disclosure for the sake of your time, and because I don't want you all to think I'm a wimp, but basically, in the span of 48 hours, I encounted the worst road conditions I'd ever seen in my life (and thus suffered through a very terrifying ice-storm-related driving experience for many, many hours), saw some good friends, drank lots of wine, got violently sick, spent quality time in a rehab facility, had my tire slashed (or, had a deer, with antlers, run headfirst into my tire, who knows), waited hours upon end to get it fixed, and eventually made it home.

The thing is, of course, most of the weekend - getting to see my good friends and family - was absolutely wonderful and I'm glad I went. I'm simply explaining the recent dearth of online writing, just in case any of you were wondering what in the name of God were going on, as I know so many of you, one or two at least, check this blog every day, and I like to deliver.

To make it up to you, I promise some decent posts in the near future. I don't foresee holding to that promise being a problem because J, with the advent of this spring-like weather, has been getting very into birds again, pointing out the species that alight on the feeder outside our living room window with the enthusiasm of a three-year-old who's just gotten into some fingerpaints, and I assure you, that, alone, is enough to fill a few pages.