See it only took 35 days to get things back in order

So, hi. Miss me? Nah, I didn't think so. I won't make excuses for myself. I will say that things got hairy here in Sarah Town and I needed the time off from well, everything. I have not blogged, message boarded, written a short story, worked on my novel, or played WOW in 35 days. Did I miss it? Yup. Am I back to daily updates? Nope. Am I glad I did it? You better believe it.

Next time I take a hiatus, I'm including Facebook and Yahoo! News, and I'm only answering email via my phone. Because email is just too damned impossible to go on hiatus from email.

I enjoyed the extra time with the girls, and with Husband. I missed them, missed sitting curled up on the bed with hot chocolate and watching a "scary" movie. (In our house, Where the Wild Things Are, Hocus Pocus, and The Haunted Mansion are scary movies) I enjoyed that special bonding time my whole family seemed to have needed. So needless to day I'll not be picking the computer back up every evening. I will however carve out some time two or three times a week for me to blog, write and other wonderfully creative things.


So on to what prompted me to blog again.

You see we are moving. The when of it is still very much up in the air, but the fact of it it real. We've bantered about it for years, but really, it's time. The girls need more space, our crap needs more space, I want a kitchen island and sliding glass shower doors. Can't have those in a 1100 square foot 2 bedroom apartment.

In the process of readying our home for the inevitable move, Husband decided to clean things. One of those things is our closet, a.k.a. the catch-all. In the very very back of the closet in this unusable space corner we tucked the boxes of stuff we want to keep but have no place to display or store in such a tiny apartment. So Husband decided to start with them. Among them was a small slightly battered old white paper box, simple marked Sarah in my Grandma Rose's handwriting. It was things she placed in a box for me just after I moved out of her home. I remember when she gave it to me. It was when I lived in that little loft off Cooper Street.

I never opened that box. Never. I just carted it with me from apartment to apartment for the last 13 years. It just got moved and stuck in the back of each closet. Never opened, never explored. Why? I didn't want to be sad. I didn't want to know what she thought I needed to have with me. I was hoping she's put a letter in it and I wanted to save it for when I was older and could be sentimental about the thoughts in it.

Well, Husband decided it was time to open it. I cried. He pulled out his pocket knife, the old tape didn't need much coaxing and open came the box. It held no letter. I cried again. Instead I found a greeting card my sister had given me with "Everything I need to know, I learned from my English Teacher" (a popular form of sentiment in the 90's) on it, some books, a pair of socks, my junior high school year books, a few utility bill type papers, an old check register, some random pictures, and a Bible. A very lovely old brown Bible. I was perplexed. It wasn't mine. I didn't recognize it. So we flipped through it. It belongs to my uncle.

I have no idea why she put that Bible in there, or if she even knew it belonged to my uncle. It may have been stashed in the bottom of the dresser I used while living with my grandparents, that had also belonged to the same uncle when he was growing up. It might have been on a top closet shelf, for the very same reason, my room was once his room. Or it might have been a sentiment of her's, maybe she was hoping it would protect me as I journeyed through this life. I don't know. My grandma passed away almost ten years ago. I still miss her.

I put the Bible in the mail today, sending it back to its original owner. I wonder if he knew it was missing.