I’ve been in a bit of a writing funk lately. The thing is, unlike most writing funks, I know exactly why I can’t produce. Some members of my husband’s family are currently dealing with some pretty scary shit, which is drudging up a lot of painful memories of my own. This is as far as I can get into it… I wish I could say more, because each time I sit down to write, the subject is the only thing I wish I can put down on paper and get out of my head. But I can’t. So I won’t.
My husband and I decided that it would be best to go talk to someone, professionally. Until I can get back to my normal cheeky, humor-writing self, you, my few dear readers, are going to have to endure recipes, draft posts that were so very near completion but never were posted, guest blogs, and superficial posts that I don’t have to put my everything into. You will not be reading Cari, in her entirety. Right now, I just can’t.
I hope I don’t lose any of you… As disconnected as people are through social media, I still felt the urge to explain where I have been. I still peruse the Reader, though not as often as I should to upkeep my established blog relationships. Don’t worry… I’m still here.