This little blog tells so many stories of the last seven years of my life. The demise and fall of my relationship with XDO, the glorious tale of meeting, dating and falling in love with Rick, all of the wonderful, mundane, silly and glorious stuff that went on back in the day when I wore all the hats and tore around like the energizer bunny keeping all those balls in the air; the stories of L, our finding one another, and sadly my, in the end, losing him to systems that were too much for both of us to fight. The whole little saga of life in my little prairie church, and all the moves, changes and transitions life has brought since then. Although, sadly, the storytelling since then has gotten a lot sparser, as least as far as the blog is concerned, and unfortunately, writing in general, and maybe it's time to change that again.
A lot of the stories in my life are about relationships of one sort or another. It has occurred to me recently that one I haven't blogged about much is my relationship with food, and that is certainly not because there is nothing to say about it. There is certainly history, drama, rises and falls, success and failure, and LOTS of emotion! And it's something that I have been paying a lot more attention to over the last three months. Since July I have taking some intentional steps, with help to revamp my nutritional life in a pretty big way, and seeing some pretty interesting changes as a results (more about that to come). So that, at least in part, is something I am going to write about in November. I want to do this because I know that writing, especially public writing, is a good way to hold myself accountable to my commitments, and I also want to tell this story, so like many of the other important chapters in my life, this one will be recorded here, too.