Dean turned 11 yesterday. It's a simple enough thing on the surface; people celebrate birthdays everyday. But how monumental this passage of time is to me, I can barely begin to express.
My computer is struggling to keep afloat with all I've got loaded on it. It's making it hard to do much here, since every time I download photos from my camera I have to wonder if the old girl is going to be able to hang on. Ken promises me we can try to switch machines but there's so much backing up and saving and moving to be done first -- it's like moving house.
I feel very out-of-touch here. I need to get out to all of your blogs, to catch up with what's been happening with you, and figure out what it is that's been happening with me.
We go to Chicago for a few days mid-month, and I've got a list of things to do and people to see that would take a month. I just want to feel the way it feels to be there. Home.