slow down, you move too fast.

You know that scene in You've Got Mail, when Tom Hanks sits down to write Meg Ryan an email and tell her why he didn't meet her at the restaurant, why he couldn't show up, even though he did show up, because, spoiler alert! He and Joe Fox are one and the same? He sits down to write an explanation, and there's just nothing. No words really seem to suffice, and the cursor just keeps blinking back at him, taunting him to type something, anything.

That's kind of how I feel.  

It's been three weeks, and I don't really know what to say.

Basically, we moved. And Jordan went to Venzuela. And I began pursuing a possible life change, the details of which I can't really publicize just yet. (No, I'm not pregnant, thank you for asking.)

It's all enough to make me want to curl up in a ball and hide out until September.

Instead, I'm spending a lot of time in prayer and a lot of time in front of the television, distracting myself from it all with the Olympics. I figure that's a pretty legitimate coping mechanism, since it only comes around every four years anyway. I'm allowed to be distracted by a spectacle that has the whole world distracted, I think.

The good news is I think the words are coming back. They ebb and flow for me, and I think the silence that results from their slowness is okay. But they're headed back this way, which is good, because I have stories to tell.

It's nice to be back.