I lifted this idea from an awesome blogger, Heather at This Fish. I liked the idea so I figured I’d give it a shot. Now I have to wonder if too many people who know me in real life read this blog to follow through? Oh yeah…but I don’t care. Here goes!

You probably didn’t know that I cried when I found out that Heath Ledger died. Like Heather, Princess Di also made me cry. How could I not have cried? In kindergarten we all wanted to be her, with her fairytale life and her wedding gown that went on and on. Later on I realized that I really didn’t want to be her because her life wasn’t as wonderful as she deserves. Still, I liked who she seemed to be. Especially once she stopped making her apologies to everyone for everything. Heath was no different. He chose his roles carefully and put his little girls first. Even in his death where people look so closely for scandal, he’s making no apologies because there is no scandal to be found. I like that.

I used to love Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Now I like the cheap Wal-mart Blue Bunny brand, plain vanilla with a tiny drizzle of Hershey’s chocolate syrup. I wish I could cook like they do on the Food Network. I also watch wedding shows faithfully. It’s my one guilty pleasure.

You probably didn’t know that sex toys no longer excite me the way they once did. Oh, I like them just fine, but I like my husband much better(God how I love calling him my husband!). Like masturbation no longer leaves me breathless or able to climax, toys are the same. Fun, sure but not a means to an end like they once were.

I had a dream of our child once. Just one dream of a little girl that was the reflection of the two of us. She was beautiful with her ebony curls and bright blue eyes framed by thick lashes, her tiny mouth in the shape of a perfect cupid’s bow. I held her close and nursed her as The Knight laid beside us and watched in awe. When I awoke the tears had made my pillow wet and I wished more than anything that I had the courage to wake him up and share it with him. Instead I journaled about it and I named our angel Colleen Renee.

I miss Mama like crazy. It’s silly but I wish she lived closer and I wish I could see her every day. People don’t understand, but we’re cool like that. In the last few weeks I’ve started keeping in touch with my sister again. It feels good and like Mama, I wish I could spend more time with her too.

You probably didn’t know that I’ve let go of a lot of the things I’d been holding on to. I smile more and I try to relax more. Believe it or not, I’m trying to receive more. I’m taking a step back and allowing him to love me back. Oh and you probably didn’t know that my Zune is nowhere near full, but on it you’ll find an eclectic mix of music and podcasts.

I can’t sleep at night without the help of some sort of meds, but it’s not a problem during the day. I like myself. Not the tummy or the thighs, but as a whole I’m finally ok with just being me. I still long for diamonds and for Paris but not for constant reassurance. I still can’t lie to save my life, so I don’t even try.

I think I’m pretty good at this whole love thing. I think many men would be lucky to have someone like me, but I think very few are worthy. It’s not about being cocky. It’s about being honest and I am. The coolest thing is- my husband(told you I loved it!) knows he’s lucky. We both know how rare it is to have what we have and on our worst days we’d still rather be right where we are than anywhere else.

If I had the money I’d start an even planning business because I love it. And I know I’d be good at it. Not to mention the fact that Pittsburgh could use a good one! My closet is full of old cards and letters from people who have touched my life in profound ways. Some of them won’t speak to me and others I won’t speak to. I don’t want to go back. I just want to remember where I’ve been, where I am and the journey that has led me here.

Death doesn’t scare me. Dying alone does. It’s become a major issue for me. So much so that I hate to be alone. I know no one can go with me, but I want someone there who’s not afraid to hold my hand when it’s time to say goodbye.

Enough about me. What don’t I know about you?

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In my wildest dreams I never thought it possible to have been granted every single wish. Yet I’ve been fortunate enough to have experienced it. I’m a published author who still generates interest and comments. I have beautiful, healthy children. On Christmas Eve the man of my dreams gave me the ring of my dreams and proposed. Less than a year later I became his wife.

Everything I could have ever dreamed of. Every wish granted, save one…

Paris. I want to see Paris with my husband. I want to experience St. Germaine with his hand in mine. I long to move my eyes skyward and see only the Eiffel Tower shining brightly against the night.

I know it’s silly for a small town girl to have such a big time dream, but I wish it just the same.

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It’s good to be back. It feels so right to sit down at my computer and let the words flow from my fingertips. Obviously it isn’t happening every day, but I’ll take it where I can get it. When I’m feeling a bit more energetic than usual you’ll find me here. Since making the decision to come back I’ve felt more in touch with myself and with the world as a whole. Since making the decision to come back, I feel more alive than I have in months and I have discovered that elusive hope that I was sure would never again be present in my life.

Though blogging apparently hasn’t changed much while I was gone, several other things have changed. I notice that a lot of my fellow bloggers have closed up shop. Some have decided to go private. Others have changed styles and goals, leaving the sex blogosphere reeling. As I look around at the boarded up windows of the shops in my hometown I can’t help but be a little sad. So many wonderful word smiths, so many sexy individuals with raunchy tales to tell have gone silent.

The chemo hasn’t been effective for me. Right now I am in the midst of fighting off infection after infection so that I can give it another try. Easier said than done when your body has nothing left to give. Still, I feel that I owe it to those who mean the world to me. It is easier to quit, to accept the diagnosis and go quietly into the night than it is to fight. I don’t know about others in the same situation, but I’m too much of a coward to quit and have to explain it to the people who love me. So here I am, still fighting.

The biggest change of all?

The Knight and I are married. It still feels so very odd to me to call him my husband but at the same time so very natural. In light of all the things surrounding my diagnosis we decided to marry simply and quietly in a civil ceremony on a quiet Sunday afternoon in the local park. We did write our own vows and exchange rings and it was perfect. I’m sad because I didn’t get the dress, the cake, and the celebration with family and friends, but in the end it was more important to The Knight to make me his wife, to share his name as he shared his life. At the end of the day nothing feels better or tastes sweeter than knowing that at long last I am his and he is mine.

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It feels good to be back, surrounded by the people who have come to mean so much and by the words that have tumbled around inside of me for so long. It’s an odd feeling, this one, where my knees shake and butterflies flit to and fro in my stomach. I’m not used to going anywhere then coming back, but the times that I have I can remember this feeling very well.

Those who have read my site before will notice that most of the archives have been deleted. I kept the pieces of writing that ended up being included in my memoir and also those that have been published elsewhere. Why did I get rid of so much of what I had written?

I’m not the same person I was when I left here in September of last year. Though I won’t spoil the surprise here and now, in time it will come to light and I hope that when it does that everyone will understand my choice. So many choices have been made in such a short amount of time and I feel that I have done the best that I could do, all things considered.

Though I can promise that there are plenty of juicy things to be told in the future, this isn’t just a sex blog. Too many things in life influence sex in too many ways. I believe to truly understand where the author of a sex blog comes from you must understand bits of their lives and what has led them to be who they are and write what they do right this instant.

It’s good to be home again and I’m so glad that you’re still here or that you’ll be visiting once again in the future.

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