Sock Summit was super SUPER fun.  If I can get my act together later, I'll show pictures of what I got.

I had so much fun and would go again in a heartbeat, but the jury is still out on whether SuperFunHappyTimes are worth the sickening thud of coming back to reality.

On a more cheerful note, I'm going to Sock Summit this weekend, and can't wait!  A friend and I are driving over after work on Friday afternoon, and not returning until Sunday.

I'm soooo ready for a weekend away, and hanging out with fiber folk is even better.

Well, if anyone's still reading this lonely blog, I'm still here.  The situation that I mentioned in February still has not resolved, and my life for the past eight months has sucked.  Truly sucked.

I never would have expected that I would have to deal with adultery and chronic lying in my marriage, but here I am.

I've felt alternately angry, sad, in denial, ashamed, confused, tired, angry, numb, worthless, forgiving, angry, in denial, anxious, angry, despairing, hopeless, devastated, angry, hopeful, disbelieving, sad, in denial, astounded, angry, overwhelmed, furious, helpless, confused, abandoned, angry, useless, in denial, tired, and hopeless.

And through it all, I'm waiting (in vain) for him to make an (honest) effort for "us".

I'm not keeping this a secret anymore.  I did for a long time, out of shame and a sense of failure.  However, I have come to realize that this is not my secret, it was his.  It is not my shame, it is his. I will accept my portion of the blame for our communication problems over the past few years, but not for the affair.  That decision was his.

Our situation is what it is, and I have made an effort over the past many, many months to get past it, forgive, and heal our breach.  I've been the only one making an effort.  A relationship cannot be healed if only one person makes an effort, if only one person is willing to talk about it.

As I wrote in my journal one day in early June, I didn't know it was possible for anyone to be this unhappy.  It's a physically manifesting feeling, with insomnia, loss of appetite, achy muscles, nausea, and constant tiredness.  I've been miserable for so long that it's starting to feel normal, and that scares me.

At this point, though, I'm less concerned about how the situation is affecting me - I just don't want to see Emma get hurt any more than she has been.  She desperately misses having Daddy live at home with us. And so do I.

What to say, what to say.  I've been very bad at the whole blogging thing recently, haven't I?  Over the past year, with finances, job stress, my health, and everything else, it seems like everything sort of snowballed and kept me overwhelmed.

I'm not likely to be posting much in the next little while, either. I have recently been confronted with the most difficult challenge of my life, and I need time and a lot of thought-space to work through it.

I'll post again when I can.

My contribution to the Sixth Annual Blogger's (Silent) Poetry Reading:

A Dream Pang
by Robert Frost

I had withdrawn in forest, and my song
Was swallowed up in leaves that blew alway;
And to the forest edge you came one day
(this was my dream) and looked and pondered long,
But did not enter, though the wish was strong:
You shook your pensive head as who should say,
'I dare not--too far in his footsteps stray-
He must seek me would he undo the wrong.'

Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all
behind low boughs the trees let down outside;
And the sweet pang it cost me not to call
and tell you that I saw does still abide.
But 'tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof,
For the wood wakes, and you are here for proof.

-----

I am very very tired.

The following has happened over the past week and half:  Emma had the monster flu with high fever for six days, then she was feeling better for approximately 11 hours except for residual violent phlegmy coughing, then she got a monster ear infection with high fever for three days.

She hardly ate.  She hardly moved.  She watched way too much TV.  She lay on the couch and whimpered pitifully.  She required a cold washcloth on her forehead every 30 minutes during the flu.  She required a warm ricebag on her sore ear every 30 minutes during the ear infection.  She required drinks. She required different drinks with ice.  She required new drinks without ice because it was too cold.  She required backrubs.  She required different pillows because hers were too flat/hard/scratchy/puffy/hot/lumpy/suffocating.  She required more blankets because she was cold.  She required fewer blankets because she was too hot.  She had to be carried to the bathroom because her legs were too wobbly.  Tylenol tastes "just awful" and requires a pitiful weak crying fit.  Amoxycillin tastes "horrible and gross" and precipitates a dramatic meltdown.  She had to sleep in my bed because hers was too lonely and cold.

Today she was better, and actually went to school.

I need a vacation.

I can't stop laughing at my daughter.  I'm trying not to, but I just can't stop giggling.

She's walking around the house, carrying her little musical moose, singing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas", but with her own... creative... words.

She couldn't understand all the words the moose was singing, so she filled in words that sounded close.

We wish you a Merry Christmas,
We wish you a Merry Christmas,
We wish you a Merry Christmas,
And a Happy New Year!

Good dinings we glee,
For you on Pompeii,
Good dinings for Christmas,
And a Happy New Year!