Amber Luck

I’ve been doing a lot lately. Not blogging, obviously, or any other kind of writing (unless you count addressing envelopes). Not reading. Not going out for dinners and drinks and movies. Not taking walks.

I have been intensely stressed out, mostly in the name of bridesmaid dresses and perfect invitation wording and the outrageous cost of rented chairs. And planning to move. That too. We found a place that’s perfect for us, for now, adjacent to a beautiful park with a lake in the not-too-distant suburbs with more than twice as much space as we have now (Did you know that we’ve been living in a 480-square-foot apartment? I didn’t.), a den to use as  an office, and a private balcony with a view of trees and grass instead of a busy street. And — this was important — next spring, we can get a dog.

So I’m alive, and busy, and happy (if tense). And I’ve been thinking about writing, I swear: I even took a beautiful weekly photograph two weeks ago. I’m just a little wrapped up right now. It’ll pass.