Ah, Man. It’s an Update.

If you’re a better blog friend than I, you knew this was coming. I have not been around much. I haven’t had time for anything except a paltry effort at feeding the children and ensuring they’ve showered semi-regularly.

So, all official-like, I am taking my annual summer sabbatical from The Blog.

Welllllllll, soon.

I’ll write now and then, visit everybody, wrap up the current A Mused Poetry Contest; then take off around June 27th. I’ll not disappear entirely because I am writing a monthly poetry post over at Carrot Ranch called Anyone Can Poem.

(By the way, you should check it out!)

In other announcements:

  1. We found out we’re having Boy #6.
  2. We’re moving house.
  3. We’ve cured cancer.

Now, you get to decide which two are the truths and which is the lie….

Wouldn’t it be neat if this was how my summer went?
Photo by Asad Photo Maldives on Pexels.com

©2021 Chelsea Owens

So Long, and Thanks for All the Friendship

Thus begins my summer sabbatical. Ironically, ’tis also my third Blogiversary.

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I’m visiting a few blogging friends before the tech-free boat departs, then I’m sailing away till September. I’m very excited. I have my notebook, my unruly crew of five boys, and some reading to keep me company.

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See ya soon!

 

©2020 Chelsea Owens

I’m Having a Baby (I Think)

This last year has been the longest decade of my life. From injury to surgery to SURPRISE pregnancy to associated complications, I’ve wrestled with keeping some part of me afloat. The problem is, that part has not always been a useful one -like my face.

Yet as I draw ever nearer my scheduled surgery date, I must finally face the facts: I’m probably having a baby.

I know, I know; that sounds funny. Of course I’m having a baby. I’ve had appointments. I’m eating peppermint ice cream. There’s something moving down there that had better not be the oft-parodied Alien‘s clip. Professional people with professional equipment have seen a humanoid in my uterus.

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And, though you’ll NEVER see a picture of this, I’m about the size and weight of a hippopotamus. Still, I’ve been in a bit of denial. I’ve been ignoring the elephant in the womb in an effort to not accept the inevitable. But, facts are facts and this alien’s gonna be coming on December 2nd at 5:00 p.m.

Which leads to some other things I need to announce about life, the blog-o-verse, and my writing:

  1. Time
    Frankly, I won’t have any.
  2. Time
    Because of this, the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest will be on hold for the entire month of December. The last one of the year will run from November 16-22, 2019. The next will resume on January 4, 2020.
  3. Time
    I will not be writing on the blog, beginning on December 2nd. Oh -maybe I’ll drop a Wednesday Gripe or a Sunday Prompt, but I think taking a sabbatical would be healthiest for me and my spawn.
  4. Time
    I will also not be consistent in reading people’s blogs, though that’s been the case since about May. I love you all and will do my best.

My hope is you’ll stick around and deal with the adorable baby picture or two I’m liable to post. Thank you for your friendship, patience, and support.

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And, here’s what I wrote this week:
Wednesday, November 6: Addressed my unhealthy lack of anticipation in “What do you hope for?

Thursday, November 7: Shared Heather Dawn‘s post, “I Met Depression… and I Won.”

Friday, November 8: Winner of the Weekly Terribly Poetry Contest. Congratulations to The Abject Muse!

Saturday, November 9: Announced the 51st Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is Christmas commercialism. PLEASE ENTER!

And, encouraged everyone to go vote for a finalist in Susanna Leonard Hill’s Halloweensie Contest.

Sunday, November 10: “Capture a Critter #1: Monkey Buffet Festival,” in response to Deb Whittam‘s prompt.

Monday, November 11: An ‘inspirational’ quote by Steve Martin.

Tuesday, November 12: “Since the Bombs Fell: Four,” the fourth in a series I intend to end at #6.

Wednesday, November 13: Today.

 

I also posted a poem at my motherhood site: “Towels, a poem.”

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens