It’s been a challenging month. In the midst of the usual familial stuff, we’ve also been dealing with a major fracture among some of our closest friends.

I’ve been fortunate to have plenty to distract me from over-thinking the whole mess – kids, home, family, etc. plus putting a lot of effort into PitchWars (a writing contest), starting a new manuscript, and really focusing on my writing, have all kept my brain mercifully occupied.

Now that the dust has (mostly) settled and we start the process of grieving the loss of friendship, my wicked sense of humor rears its head. Big surprise, right?

Years ago, before we moved into our city digs, the hubby and I had already done a major cull of our book collections. We did another cull prior to the move – inner city living, not a lot of space, y’know? Even so, we still had boxes upon boxes of books.

As one friend hauled yet another box of books out of the moving van, he grumbled that he was going to buy us a Kindle (already had one, thanks!) and said, “I hate helping smart people move. They have too many books.”

Too many books?! What is this “too many” of which you speak?

And here’s where that sense of humor comes in… today, looking back… I can’t help but think, “huh, maybe that should have been a clue.”

I’m not saying I’ll only befriend people who are fellow bookworms, but… if you think I have “too many” books, or don’t understand my love of reading, prepare for me to give you major side-eye and to seriously question your judgement.

Over the years, I have very carefully preserved a relatively anonymous front and a totally fractured existence, a sort of six degrees of separation from myself. In many cases, it’s been a necessary evil and originally came about because I was doing much of my creative (and paying) work under pseudonyms not owned by me (gee, can y0u say “ghost writing”).

Add in the simple fact that my work crosses socio-political boundaries that ought not be mixed and you wind up with one very scattered person.

But all that’s a-gonna change I tell ya!

While I’m  not about to own up to everything I’ve ever written under my assorted noms de plume, heck, I can’t – I signed non-disclosure agreements, I have decided that this overly fractured life must (sort of) end.

And so, the process begins. My blog will now be linked to my Facebook and Twitter pages, and all sorts of other oh-so-fun stuff. Y’all get to see the “real” me now. Whooo hoooo.

Sure, I still have some stuff going on that does not, and will never, link to these pages, but the bottom line is, I’m sick of feeling like the Sybil of the blogging world (who am I today?)

After a winter of record snow fall (Snowmaggedon anyone?) I confess I was looking forward to Spring.

I also confess that it snuck up on me. Over the last month, as the weather has slowly warmed, things just started ever so slowly getting just a little bit more green, a little bit more life till all of a sudden, wham! The world has bloomed and my allergies have gone into over drive!

Then I was overcome with a mad desire to get my fingers dirty, a dilemma which the local nursery was more than happy to help solve.

My only real question is:
What in the world do I do with these things? (a gift from the Not Mother In Law)