I have my last writing class of the semester tomorrow morning and I am supposed to be writing a six minute piece to read for the group read-around. I have nothing, nada, zero. I can't think of anything to write about that is interesting or funny. I can think of all sorts of important things to write about but I am not a write-about-important things writer. I write about the unimportant things that fill my daily life and try to make them funny.
In the quest to find something funny to read to the group, I went back to my old blog which I started in late 2003. Geez...has it been that long? The first month chronicles the preparation for our move from Fairfield to Bloomington and the next fifteen months is my journal of our transition to the Midwest up until the point when Chris has his open heart surgery. At that point, I started this blog, mainly because I didn't want local people to read what I wrote and a few people had found the site. At that time, I didn't feel comfortable enough with some people here and worried about what they would think. It is nice to be at a point where I no longer care. Plus, this is now my home (wow, that may be true but it was weird to write it) and I have several friends here who (I am happy to be able to say) read my blog. Anyway, I ramble.
I was reading my old posts and was feeling sort of heartsick for Fairfield and our old friends and our old house, pictured above. When we lived in the house, it wasn't quite as nice looking as the picture because the people who bought it from us gave it a face lift and did an addition on the back as well. The picture is from realtor.com because the house is on the market again. The owners unexpectedly had to move to California and had to put it on the market after they did all that work. Serves 'em right for redoing my completely newly redone (and may I say gorgeous) kitchen. The house has been for sale for an age because it is WAY expensive now and the market is soft.
I miss that old house quite a bit. The neighborhood was beautiful - a bit chilly socially - but wonderful to walk in and look at. The house was cozy and right sized. And, even though it was a really tough adjustment for all of us after Marie died, we made it through and managed to form an intact and loving family unit. Maybe that is why I am so nostalgic for the house...it is where I became a mom and where we became a whole family. Wow, your Bloomingtongirl sure is sentimental this evening.
Which is why it is time for me to end the post and go and read about poor Clarissa.