I'm sorry I haven't been blogging recently; although to be honest, I don't know who exactly I'm apologizing to.  Perhaps, more than anyone, I am saying "sorry, self, you need to blog more."  Of course I need to do a lot of things more, journaling being one big thing, although there are dozens of others things as well.  Still, I'm not re-joining the blogosphere after a little over a month to tell you what it is I need to do.  Actually, to be honest, there are a lot of things I could tell you (you being my readers, which I presume their are but a few of).  Hi, Grandma ;)  

Today, I will tell you a few things, and perhaps, my beginning musings will get the ball rolling for more blogging.  Hope so ...

At this very moment my stomach kind of hurts, and it's not from bad cereal or any other ordinary stomach aching disturbance, but because I'm about to get a haircut.  That's right: chop, chop ... snip, snip (you get the point).  Ladies and gentlemen, I am going in for (drumroll, if you will) bangs.  My "look" will now feature a dark brown fringe that frames my face, and, hopefully, accents my features (fingers crossed).  I decided to do this today, which I feel is enough time for a decision.  Goodbye forehead, hopefully I won't miss you too much.

I've also been really wanting to plant a garden -- secret garden status with lot's of random flowers and shrubs, of course a swing, and maintained, yet containing slight feral disarray.  The only thing I'm missing for this endeavor is land ... and also a bit of patience.

Lastly, I have a poem I've been wanting to share.  I hope it captivates you as it has me, regardless, I thought it was a good find.

"You Who Never Arrived"

You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. All the immense
images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and un-
suspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods--
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house-- , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced
upon,--
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening...

~Rainer Maria Rilke

Now that's poetry.