Nope, the house isn’t clean

In this post, you can see the overlap between my old blog and this, the current one.

Since that trip to New York when I last posted, I’ve been to Seattle, and tomorrow I leave for the next big leg of the Appalachian Trail. I’ve been to the North Georgia mountains – twice! – and hiked another 17 miles of the GA AT (Unicoi to Dick’s Creek).  I’ve seen the tombstones of my great-great (great?) grandparents, and I’ve met a distant cousin – who also has a bear story.

I’ve made new friends, I’ve worked a lot, and  I’ve gotten ready for the wedding, which is now fewer than 100 days in the future. It’s become more real – and perhaps a little more terrifying.

I’ve battled doubt, my weight, my first instinct to run and hide and avoid everything.  I’ve gone though periods of intense activity – burning brightly in a dozen different places. Likewise, I’ve gone through bouts of sluggishness, where it’s all I can do to keep one foot in front of the other.

When I mentioned to someone the other day that I’m planning a wedding, about to go on vacation, and still rewriting that novel, her reply made me laugh. “Please tell me your house isn’t clean.”

Trust me. It’s not.


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