Finding My Voice

At lunch today a friend asked me if I was still blogging. I paused because it was something I've been thinking about so much lately. "No," I replied. "Not since Katrina. That bitch stole my voice."

And it's true. Sure I've done a couple of stories, but nothing really much. It just all seems so pointless and insignificant suddenly. Stories would happen and I'd write them in my head, but to put them on paper seemed silly and worthless.

I’m back on my own now. The pug and I have moved back to the Heights and are finding ourselves again. We both miss my sister, but are glad to also finally be back on our own. A week or so ago I was driving to Austin when I suddenly came on one of the trail rides heading out of Houston. It's rodeo time which always brings a host of surreal sights. I never fail to smile when I get caught up in a minor traffic jam as horses and covered wagons ramble down the highway. This is the Texas foreigners imagine when I tell them I live in Houston. So anyway, I'm driving and see the horses and start to smile. Maybe my life really will resume and all will be ok.

One of my closest friends turned 60 yesterday. (Is this possible? How can I have a close friend who is 60? How is it possible I'm 45?! Here I am waiting to grow up and get my life together and I'm getting old.) We did dinner at a little known restaurant in Montrose called "Just Dinner." It's simply a bungalow house with no sign or advertisement. There are three small rooms with a handful of tables. It's BYOB with a small Italian menu. The food is good, nothing outrageous, but basic and comforting. The owner and his daughter wander from table to table taking part in conversations and checking in. Really, it's like going to someone's house for dinner. In the right mood it's fun and adventurous. However, if you're not in the mood to mingle with strangers, I'm certain it could wear on your nerves.

I should go. I don't want to overdue my return to writing. And the pug needs a bath. Honestly, I'm not kidding. He's sitting about 6 feet away and I can smell him. To make matters worse, he's sleeping on a pillow that fell off the couch. Two feet to his right is his newest bed, a nice fluffy pillow type. Just a few feet in front of that is his blanket stretched across the floor. And rounding a few more feet to the left is his large bed with sides. So with three other choices, why must the smelly pug always go for the one item he has no business laying across?