I hope you like what I’ve done with the place. I have been struggling on and on about the theme and how I want Renaissance Blogger to be looking. Have I finally found a “perfect” theme? Probably not.
But being code-impaired I need to settle on the creations of others. I hope that it is well received (not really, I like it and I’m not really concerned about what anyone else thinks ).
I also have cleaned up the blogrolls and the sidebars. I realized over the course of the weekend that, though I love doing the meme thing (photohunts, Thursday Thirteens, and the like), that I was not allowing this space to be used as full as possible.
I am hoping to post once or twice a day at most but go into more depth on whatever the subject is that I am writing about (in many cases that will be about writing itself).
For example, I’ve an essay that I have been writing offline on the subject of the adoption of our daughter from Korea and the how that process has affected our family and in particular her older, special needs brother.
But I hesitate to post this story. I’ve a tendency to be quite private about my personal life and I feel that that is what has been holding me back in what I could be or should be writing about. I am going to make attempts at changing this over the next several months (for example, actually filling out the about page on this blog!).
I also am going to be more particular to whom I link and what blogrolls I will post or not post. I am still making some decisions on several.
Speaking of blogrolls and blog directories, I want to point any of you WordPress users out there, if you haven’t already found it, toward Powered By WordPress. This directory is specifically for WordPress users and I’ve already run across a few interesting blogs there. Go. Check it out.
Life in Georgia is good. The winters are warm, the people are nice, and I live in a safe community with decent schools. I have a husband who loves me even when I don’t deserve it, smart beautiful children, and maybe the best in-laws in the history of existence.
I also attend a wonderful church, which has been a great blessing. I have always felt loved and accepted, even when I was new and too shy to talk to anyone. I think when I finally started talking, they were shocked.
I can talk the hind legs off a donkey, as the saying goes, and that comes as a great surprise coming from someone who has barely said a word for two years. Once the conversation started, it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with these very special people. I’ve learned from their humor, insight, and even their pain.
They love my children and spoil them rotten. They are my Georgia Family–grandparents, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters, and my dear friends. I love them, absolutely and without exception.
But I miss my Kentucky family. My flesh and blood family.
I miss my 83-year-old, slightly ditzy grandma. The crazy old lady that used to get my notoriously late-sleeping brother out of bed with cold water or by dragging him out of bed by his feet.
The woman who cannot sit still and let an empty trashcan sit on the curb longer than 2 minutes after the garbage is collected or a coffee cup sit on a counter for longer than 10 seconds before she’s putting it in the dishwasher, whether you’re finished with it or not.
The girl who didn’t date boys who didn’t have the ration points for gas and had no qualms about hitching a ride with a truckload of sailors on leave. My grandma, who is the most forgiving and faithful woman in the world and who taught me what it means to be a true Christian woman. Time is running short and I’m terrified I may not see her again.
I miss my aunts and uncles. The aunt that, when it snowed, would smear my red lips, nose, and cheeks with chapstick if I came within arm’s reach. The same aunt who took pictures of my baby hiney because she thought nothing was more precious than an infant’s chubby behind and she was right.
My other aunt who made saying the sentence, “I don’t like spiders” a reason to burst out laughing. The uncle who respects his mother’s opinion so much, he has hidden his smoking habit from her his entire life.
The other uncle who loves cooking shows, turtle soup, and above all, his nieces and nephews and all their children. The aunts I haven’t seen in years and the uncle I’ll never see again.
I miss my cousins. Growing up, I lived two doors down from 3 of my cousins. One who ate onions like apples. Another who I always think of with a swirly even though he’s a military father of four beautiful daughters and a long anticipated son.
And the one who chopped off the baby curls it took me two years to grow, who let me watch movies with him, and basically tail along behind him for most of my early childhood.
The other cousin who loaned me his purple Skidz because I loved them so much, who always made me laugh, and who is now battling a chronic and debilitating disease.
His brother, the clown, who loved mashed potatoes more than any kid I’ve ever seen. And all the others who share the same precious memories of loud chaotic family get-togethers and summer days spent in an apple orchard, a car port, at the creek, or in a gully.
I have been missing my family so badly for the last couple of weeks. Visits home are rare and so short, it’s impossible to see all the people I want to see. I desperately want to spend a couple of weeks at home to see old friends, visit old haunts, and just be in the place where I grew up.
I want to be where everybody knows everything about me. I want to see hills again. I want to sleep in my old bedroom in the log house. I want my old Kentucky home.