Back in Black? On Track? Whatever.

You know how sometimes you wake up in the morning and it's as though the previous month, or even, say, five weeks, just sort of disappeared on you? No? Well, it might happen to you someday, and if it does, I will be a sympathetic ear. What is that famous quote, it's by some guy whose name sounds like Elvis but isn't? Never explain. Your friends don't care, and your enemies won't believe you anyway. Or something like that. I'm going with the guy whose name sounds like Elvis on this one. All I will say is: I'm back.

Having said that, I feel as though expectations may be high. If you've wondered where I've been, why I haven't been writing this blog (and let me just say, as a person who loathes a red herring, hates a teaser: there is no big secret here, just a mad confluence of full time summer vacation children, disorienting country living, cleaning, exhausting and exhilarating work writing, knuckle-scraping gardening, house-bound dogs and exhaustion), you might be hoping for a splash of a re-entry, a dramatic appearance from a hidden perch offstage. The written version, if you will, of the scene you have surely seen me do from my Nutcracker days (especially if you have been in my presence after I've consumed more than two glasses of wine) when I emerge, arms outstretched, into indoor falling snow and connect with the audience in wonder and sheer delight. But my re-entry, like my life, is late and scattered and all over the place. It doesn't arc nicely like a novel, have perfect edges like a professional paint job, swoosh free throws without so much as hitting the rim. But it is here, and it will move forward, and, like me, it will try even harder tomorrow.

Good night. I'm glad to be back.