What An Ordeal

Yesterday afternoon, I decided to make a quick post. Haven't been posting very often lately, so was trying to do a good thing, right? Blogger would not let me log into my old Blogger account and forced me to move to the new Blogger which involves creating a Gooogle account. The process got interrupted so there I was having had my blogs updated to the new Blogger, and a new Google account, but they weren't recognizing each other. I was slightly freaking out thinking I was going to have to start a whole new blog. And you better believe it would have been on TypePad or somewhere else! But finally, got it working. I didn't even care about posting after that frustrating hour on dial-up. Yep, sometimes we're dragged kicking and screaming into change.

So while I'm ranting, who sent Grandma to Apparel Mart for Walmart this year? No one expects Walmart to compete with the boutiques, but sometimes it's all you've got in the rural scheme of things. They used to have some relatively competitive smart fashions but now, everthing looks like what you ick-ed about when looking at cheap clothes in 1970. What the heck are they thinking!

Ok, that's all I've got for now. Maybe I'll go eat at Wendy's today so I can continue my rant.

Thanks For Checking In

I just checked my stats counter for the first time in a long time to see who's been coming by. And I'd like to thank you faithful few that have been checking my blog regularly. I really need to get back in the habit of making entries. Just wish there was something exciting to say. Not much going on except the routine.

When it comes time to make a post, you sit down and feel reflective. I've almost gotten to the point that I hate to make a reflective comment about missing Gene in my blog or on the phone to those far away because I don't want people to worry. Yes, I miss him and think about him a lot each day but it is mostly in passing.

I do have a friend at work that I'll talk to about whatever thing reminded me of Gene and made me miss him. She will "Awww" with me and pat me on the hand or give me a hug.

Then she'll announce "It just sucks, doesn't it?"

That's all I want -- someone to comiserate with me for that moment and then in the next breath laugh at the joke one of us is cracking. (i.e. Who needs a man when you've got a label maker?)

So yes, even though sometimes I feel like I can't get Gene out of my head and sometimes my heart hurts, there is nothing to be done but get through it. It comes and goes. It is not all consuming. There is nothing you can do but relieve me of the guilt of thinking I am making you worry. I am not in the depths of dispair.

It is only two sides of the same coin. They exist together.