4.10.2012

Let's Try That Again

It's been a long time since I've clicked "publish" and immediately thought, well, that was a lie.

But us in our Easter finery? Not a lie. But also not the full truth.

There have been a few eras of my life that I just cannot resist quoting Dickens, cliche as it may be. You know. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."

This is one of those eras.

So yes, there were precious girls on Easter morning. But one of those precious girls has completely lost her ability to get to sleep on her own, let alone sleep for more than a couple hours at a time. And now she has a cold. She screamed for hours last night, and then woke up screaming at regular intervals all night long. I was so tired from my early morning triathlon training that I could barely rouse myself to help administer the Tylenol. (It would also appear that she is about to cut every single tooth all at once.)

Easter is one of those times I am acutely aware of how much I miss the members of my church in California. I can hear Mary singing "Low in the grave he lay, Jesus my Savior..." at that one sunrise service, and the tears flow.

Meanwhile, how on earth, year after year, do we end up owing the government more than we've already paid up in estimated taxes?

And, dear reader, it is not an understatement to say that I am MONUMENTALLY CRUSHED by the glich in the book release. I am supposed to be cheerful about this. Conventional wisdom says to give it a good PR shine. Do not, under any circumstances, type MONUMENTALLY CRUSHED in all caps. But the fact of the matter is this: I poured my soul into that book. It matters to me, a whole bunch more than is probably healthy. As much as it terrifies me to think about people actually reading it, as it turns out I actually really do want people to have the opportunity to do so. So if you received another one of those Amazon notices, keep that order open. Pretty please. All the books will be shipped as soon as they available.

I am so happy, and so tired, and so grateful, and so weepy, and so MONUMENTALLY CRUSHED. 

That's more like it.

I actually feel like I can offer a heartier Happy Eastertide after getting that off my chest.

In fact: HAPPY EASTERTIDE.

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