And So, To Start. Again.

I’ve decided I’m still a writer.  I need to write more, but I’m still a writer.

I have lots of notebooks.  Some are even full.

I also have a husband whose nicknames don’t stick, and a daughter who has too many.

I have CP and a sporty wheelchair which I love, even if my post-baby hips are too big for it these days.

I don’t know where I’m from.  New York, by way of Dallas and the Highlands.  And Glasgow.  And then Edinburgh.  And so, I’m from everywhere.  And nowhere.

My work (and life) background is in equalities  and social justice, with corporate writing and editing thrown in.  These days, I make a game out of cleaning up Cheerios and answering fake phones.  I miss working, but the coffee is better at home.

When I started this blog, Neil and I lived in Edinburgh, read a lot of books and drank a lot of beer.

I proposed to him and we got married in Docs.

Then I thought I had the flu, and Zerbert became Isla.

The three of us have moved to Skye and we move into our new house next month.

And so, if you want to read a blog about a married, disabled, expatish mother who should be writing, then this is that blog.  And I’ll be writing it.

Hello.  Again.

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Isla and me.  Scenery was happening.

 

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17 thoughts on “And So, To Start. Again.

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