I’m not writing as much, because we are on vacation. That means that my PhD candidate husband has a couple weeks between the end of spring semester and the beginning of summer teaching; this has aligned with my therapist’s vacation, so we are spending a lot of time at my mother-in-law’s house. It’s a magical place. If you follow me on Twitter or Instagram, you may know my mother-in-law as #fairyMIL or #fairygrandma because she does things like bake my favorite cookies while I’m asleep.
On Sunday, we’re going to drive to my mother-in-law’s mother’s home on the top of a mountain in Vermont, where we will enjoy gorgeous views, beautiful gardens, hopefully some nice weather, and a hotel pool (not enough room at Great Gram’s house). I have so much to tell you, but just not enough time. I guess I’m on vacation, a little, too. Point is: it’s hard to write when I can hardly remember which state I’m in, let alone which day of the week is it and is there somewhere we have to be today. I have always had a love/hate relationship with summer that has often been heavier on the hate. I need a schedule. I need it to remember to take my meds and even eat real meals. But I am enjoying this time. All the same, I’ll be happy to be back to a routine, even if it is just defined by my twice-weekly therapy and Nathan’s teaching schedule.