jaysaint Getting it all down on paper…

I will miss Salt Lake City.

It took a lot of discipline to shift myself into the shower and out the door every day when I had that view on offer.

Also, this place is packed with crafty, smart women. There was a lot of discussion about how so many amazing style bloggers are Mormon or ex-Mormon and many still live here. What I know about Mormons, as opposed to “Mormons” (Under the Banner of Heaven, Big Love), could fill a thimble. I will let our own Emily Henderson take a whack at explaining the Mormon/blogger connection.

I’m sorry to leave this gorgeous city. I’m sorry to leave these gorgeous women.

But I’m not really sorry.

Remember when the New York Times linked to my blog and then I stopped writing entirely? It would be reasonable to assume that was a reaction to a sudden uptick in attention (Hello family and friends who had no clue I’ve been blogging for 7 years!). It would also be reasonable to assume it was a wasted opportunity to meet a lot of new people. That second part is true. I don’t think the first part is, but I have to admit that I don’t really have enough distance to be sure. The truth is that I hit a logjam that I just couldn’t break. 2010 was hard. My Uncle Frank died. My 21-year-old cat Zoe died. My good friend’s son died. And then my Dad died. And I finally just ran out of ways to be anything but sad in this space. I’m still sad, but I also think I’m at risk of never coming back if I don’t come back now.

I’m also moving over to WordPress. Livejournal has been great to me, but it’s too closed an environment. Since I let the cat out of the bag I feel like I need to do this in a place where it’s easier for non-LJ users to comment. If anyone is reading (possibly not) then I hope this can be a chat rather than a monologue.

I’m writing from the Altitude Design Summit. These bright and funny people are unknowingly giving me the kick in the pants I need.

(I’m trying to get my blog imported with, obviously, limited success so far.)

If anyone is still reading after my long absence, I hope you’ll join me at my new home.

That goldfish I mentioned about six inches down? He didn’t make it.

I took Alden to the grocery store so Damon could, ahem, take care of business. When we got home he told me he got wrapped up watching The Karate Kid and forgot. I’m upstairs now, having just put Elliot down. I hope everything is resolved when I get back down there.

Poor goldfish. I hope he didn’t suffer.

I wanted Damon to take care of it while we were gone because I didn’t want Alden to find him shoulder deep in the tank trying to take out the body. Here’s the thing: I really don’t want to talk to Alden about this at all.

When Zoe died I put on my big-girl pants and told him. He made me expain over and over about how Zoe was very old and that her body stopped working. And how she was never coming back. He held his hand over my mouth while I talked, his buffer against uncomfortable news. Each time was a little torture as I blinked back tears and tried to distill this loss of my 22-year-old cat to my 2-year-old boy. I didn’t want to lie to him. I didn’t talk about rainbow bridges or kitty heaven.

Then a few months later I got to tell him my dad died. That actually went down a little better. He didn’t know my dad well, and now had experience with the concept. He was mostly distressed by how sad mommy was. Still is. And I still have to endure that shock of grief every time my well-meaning boy walks up to pat my hand and say, “Don’t worry Mommy. Grandpa will come back soon.” Sometimes when we leave for school he asks my why Grandpa’s car is in our garage.

So I don’t want to talk about the goddamn goldfish. Enough. Enough of these conversations.

I’m going to put Alden to bed in about half an hour. The fish tank sits on a chest in our bedroom and we usually take a few moments to admire White Orange while we drift off to sleep. I could get very lucky and he might not look over there tonight. And them maybe he will forget we need to feed the fish in the morning. It’s possible both of those things will happen and I’ll get a reprieve. If they don’t, I have no idea what I’m going to say.