I think I lied

No, the lie isn't the words on that picture. It really has always been him. The lie was that I'd come up for air. Welp! Turns out I'm still very much in the trenches, y'all, reading and line editing the manuscript to get it ready to send to my subject this Friday, so still not feeling at liberty to start back really posting here. Complicating my timing is the fact that the magazine I edit for is currently closing its end of year double issue and those stories are rolling in to my InCopy queue at a regular clip and I have to pause in working on the book and get those moving as others in the editorial assembly line are waiting for them to move through the production process to closing. I'm dancing as fast as I can—remember that book from the 'eighties? Or was it the 'seventies? I'm dating myself. I'll be out from under all this soon, but I'm just not there yet, though the worst stress has lifted, now it's just process and diligence and pride of work, not gut-level fear of whether I will actually be able to do what is being asked of me, now we are at the stage of how well will I be able to polish this thing that is being asked of me, can I make it really shine?

Here are pictures of us from our anniversary dinner. That image up top is what I gave my husband as a gift, an impulse purchase I made while scrolling on Instagram in the middle of the night, from a website called Lime & Lou, where you upload a photo of you and viola, they turn it into that. He loved it, so I guess I did okay, though I do secretly think it's a bit cheesy. But who cares if he loves it. Okay, back to work. Looking forward to being back here in earnest.