I'm back.

I go through seasons in my life where sometimes I write, and sometimes I don't.  Those of you who followed me faithfully through my Xanga period know that well.  

I always know when it's time to write again; I'll know because I get a static-y feeling in my fingers and my mind will go over something once, twice, three times.  Almost like it MUST be told out loud for it to be of any importance.  That, and it can't just be forgotten; it would be such a waste.  

So I'm going to dive right in.  Just like I've done recently with my diary.  I won't go into lengthy detail trying to catch up about life and all its details.  I'll just start telling things that need to be told.  So you'll feel like you're opening a book half way through, but I'll make it easy on you.  Most of what I'll be writing about won't rely on chronology or explanation.  They will just be good ol'fashioned stories that need to be told.  

The first story to come is how my Pomeranian ate a 70% dark chocolate bar and needed to be rushed to the vet this afternoon [twice].  $130 later, we have a miserable little dog who was barfing up charcoal sludge all day.  But the story in detail will come a little later.

Thanks for reading.