There are no pretty pictures for this post. I’m feeling lazy, so…Just words.

My last post was…FOUR YEARS AGO. How is that even possible? Life. That’s how it’s possible.

I didn’t read through my last post, but from the title I can see it had to do with my daughter’s accident. Then, I just fell off the face of the world. Or did I?

I was active on Instagram and Facebook for a while. Then I ditched Facebook. (I think you should, too, but you already know it sucks. I don’t have to tell you. Even if you love it, I know, deep down, you loathe it, too.) I continued to post on Instagram. I had three accounts: my personal account, my bookstagram account, and my art account. I got a lot of traffic on the bookstagram account, but that was the first I got rid of. The concept, while appealing at first, felt silly after a while. I love books. I read a lot. But staging book photos just felt…I don’t know. It felt artificial. That doesn’t exactly explain how I felt, but it seemed to me I was placing more emphasis on the look of the book (poet and didn’t even know it), instead of on the content. Sure, I’d give it a review, but it was only a fraction of the effort that went into photographing it. Plus, it just wasn’t fun. So it went.

Next was my art account. I still have it, but it isn’t the same as my original. I deleted my book and art accounts at the same time, then later regretting getting rid of the art account and added it back. Posted a few things, then ignored it completely. So, yeah.

Finally, my personal account. I used this mostly like I used to post here. I post my knitting, my sewing, photos of my family and the occasional trips we’d take. You know. Mom stuff, I guess. Unfortunately, I felt like I was being seen by the wrong people. I’d get lots of dm’s and follows from what I assume were dummy accounts. Usually middle-aged men who had a few “I’m a cool guy” photos on their page. Barf.

Anyhow, I made that account private…then stopped sharing photos completely.

There are hundreds of “why I quit Instagram” videos on YouTube, as well as blog posts and articles. I don’t need to tell you. It’s a chaotic platform in which you’re screaming into the void, but instead of your own echo reverberating back to you, it’s millions of loud, obnoxious voices, half of which are ads to get you to buy stuff you don’t need, yet, oddly, desire. So, I still have that account, but I don’t go on very often.

Last week I was trying to figure out how old my cat, Lily, is. (She’s knocking on heaven’s door.) My photos on my phone only go back so far, and I got her shortly after I ditched glossy photos for pixels. (So, in other words, I’m old. And so is she.) Then I remembered this blog. I started blogging back in 2005, back when it was the popular thing. I did a search and found the oldest post she was pictured in. It doesn’t tell me exactly when I got her, but it gives me a ballpark.

I bring this up because, while I didn’t have time to stroll down memory lane at the time, it made me happy I had the option. I can go back and see what my life was like in those early years of my family. Was it completely representative of how things were? No. Of course not. We share our happy stories and save the sad ones for just ourselves. (Some of us try to be a little more transparent, but who wants to be a constant downer?) I regret not posting more often. I regret leaving whole years worth of time undocumented. Actually, regret is a strong word. I don’t regret not posting. I wish I would’ve posted more. I wish I would’ve checked in, even if it was a simple post, no pretty pictures, just words.

A lot has happened in the four years since my last post. My kids are older. One left for college last year, and one started high school this year. My oldest, who has autism, is in his final year of school. He turned 21 this summer, which blows my mind.

My favorite cat, Loki, passed away. I miss him. I’ll miss Lily, too, when she finally crosses over that rainbow bridge. (Her health has been up and down, and the downs are starting to outnumber the ups.)

I work part time now. You’ll never guess what I’m doing…I shelve books at the library! Technically, my job title is “Collection Support Aide.” I don’t just shelve books. My job involves much more than that.

So, yeah. A bookish job. Shocking. I’m in heaven, of course. The library has always been my happy place, and now I get paid to hang out there.

So, why come on here? Why now? Well, I would like to post more. (Or, at all.) I miss writing, even if it’s a few words about my day. I journal, yes, but that’s not the same. That’s private, and messy. When I reread old journal entries, I cringe. I’d much prefer some pretty pictures and a polished version of the past. That’s terrible, right? Maybe. Maybe not.

Anyhow, I can’t promise anything, but I would like to write more, so I will try to post here. I will try to be consistent. Why will I post? I don’t know. Life stuff. Book stuff. Maybe some other stuff.

So, expect changes.