Hi there. It’s me, Rhiannon. I am currently super caffeinated. I am currently not super depressed. Those two things have nothing to do with each other, I just wanted to give you a head’s up about the first thing. The blog post is more about the second thing.
Hurricanes and this election – both come into town, destroy some shit and leave us to pick up the pieces. While I think I’d rather take my chances with a hurricane than Trump, the two do have a few other things in common.
There are times when the fact that my backyard is a giant downward slope is annoying. When I am offered a free motorized toddler car, but know it would never make it back up the hill. When I want to set up a kiddie pool on flat ground. When trying to build garden boxes. When the garage at the bottom of the yard floods.
If you live anywhere along the east coast you likely have a plan for what needs to be done when a hurricane threatens. Maybe you evacuate at the first mention of the word “tropical” or maybe you clear the store shelves of milk and vodka.
Sometimes I feel like I’m on a roller coaster without a safety bar. I spent part of this week in complete freak-out mode because Rowan is going to be a year old, but he should only be ten months old, and all of the feelings I’ve avoided so well for the last few months have been threatening to send this car plunging. I’m keeping my hands and feet inside the ride and holding on tight.
Today’s #TBT is courtesy of yesterday’s thunderstorms.
In the seventh grade our family got a Border Collie puppy. Cinder.
Today may have broken me. I was about ten seconds from huddling in a closet and refusing to come out until other people did all of the adulting for me, leaving me with nothing to do but watch Jane the Virgin and drown my frustrations in a half-gallon of double fudge ripple.