Even as I type that title I get worried that it's too strong of a conviction. I'm still me, still busy, still lazy, still flaky, still have my priorities out of whack, and even more dangerous, still have no filter. Mental note: no complaining about work.
So, rather than I'm back, how about I'm coming back? I love to write. Frankly, I miss it. I’ve been going back and reading my old posts and it’s making the itch to return even stronger. It also helps that several people have told me that they miss my blog and that I am a great writer. It feels amazing to hear people say I am good at something-especially something I enjoy. The main reason I’ve stayed away is that I haven’t made time to post. Since I sit in front of the computer all day at work, it’s the last thing I want to do when I get home. Besides, I post the good stories (at least, the abbreviated versions) on fb.
The other reason is my moods. I mentioned before that I didn’t want to blog because raising my girls was too hard for me, and I’m not very good at dealing with it. I’ve said in jest that I didn’t need CPS knocking on my door. Well, things are getting easier. Not easy, but easier. For now. Rather than CPS, now I'm more worried about the mental and emotional damage I'm doing. And with some of the other blogs I’ve been reading, the Orange Rhino, Scary Mommy, and a myriad of other authors who aren’t scared to parade their ugly sides for the greater good…they’ve given me some hope. They’ve helped me become more courageous.
Having said all that, this post won’t even be about the kids. I need to get something more pressing off my chest. Last Tuesday my whole world changed. What I thought was a regular daily email update from Baton Rouge Business Report turned out to be a story that caused confusion and sadness.
After 15 years in business, my mainstay is gone.
So many memories: birthday celebrations, girls nights, baby showers, pregnancy announcements, my bridesmaids’ lunch.
This was the place I went when I had a writing assignment about food. Maybe I'll post that one day.
It was the place where I went for countless 2 week waits: the time between ovulation and the (hoped for) positive pregnancy test. To wait 9 months for a taste seemed an eternity.
It’s the reason Gracie slept through the night for the first time. She liked that margarita milk J
And more recently, it's where I would go (at least twice per day) on those amazing fall Saturdays I spend on LSU's campus. This tradition will be a hard one to get over. I’ve already decided to start saving for my very own margarita machine. What other choice do I have?
The worst part is I didn’t even get a warning. Sure, I noticed the declining food quality and consequently declining business, but surely those packed fall Saturday's made up for that. At least in my not-so-business-savvy mind. There was no “going out of business" sale. No last call. No closure.
It’s not just about the margaritas, it’s about the memories. Ok, it’s mostly about the margaritas.
Goodbye Serrano’s. I’ll never forget you.
