Folklore
If Taylor Swift can have a cruel summer, so can I.
This August opened with the sickness from hell — I’m talking days of coughing, sneezing, and going through tissues like it’s my new hobby. If I’m not sneezing, I’m coughing; if I’m not coughing, I’m sitting there wondering if my body is actively trying to evict me. It’s been a vibe.
On the plus side: the bleeding finally stopped. Seven full days after my period ended, but it stopped. And while that’s not exactly the kind of thing that gets someone “in the mood,” the hormones? Oh, they’re still on a rollercoaster — and I’m strapped in whether I want to be or not.
Work, though? It’s finally a bright spot. It took a year, but I’ve found my person — a true connected soul in the PMO office who gets me. My days are now filled with ridiculous memes back and forth, shared “can you believe this?” moments, and the deep joy of knowing I’m no longer stranded on an island. Work-life balance is actually happening, and that still feels miraculous to say out loud.
As for my garden — my poor, battered little project — is finally giving me something back. After June’s hailstorm forced me to start over, we’re finally getting a real harvest. It’s slow, but it’s happening. The cucumbers are the star of the show, though let’s be honest: I really just grow them for Babaloo. My senior boy lives for garden cucumbers, and honestly, I live for watching him enjoy them. So maybe my whole garden exists just for him. (And no, I’m not taking questions on that.)
And then there’s the weight-loss saga: insurance officially denied me for GLP-1 meds. At first, I was furious — like “how dare you gatekeep my pancreas?” furious. But now… maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Maybe it’s a pause I didn’t know I needed. Or maybe it’s just one more “nope” from the universe. Either way, I’m trying to sit with it.
Hobbies & Sanity Check:
Quilting: Paused for now, but Halloween sewing is on deck (spooky stitches incoming).
Reading: Still averaging a solid one book a week, which feels like the one routine I can count on.
Writing: My book is sitting at 1,745 pages — yes, you read that right — and at this point, I’ve accepted it’s going to be a series. (Apparently I don’t do small projects.)
So that’s where August finds me: still sick, finally not bleeding, hormonally unhinged, thriving at work, harvesting tiny victories from my garden, spoiling my dog rotten, and knee-deep in way too many creative projects. Not the summer I dreamed of, but it’s the one I’ve got.
