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Alright, alright, alright—I, the fearless founder, am here today to confirm that I did not (quite) fall off the face of the planet. Well, at least not yet, anyway. After receiving the following messages and comments in recent days, I figured I probably have some explaining to do.

They read as follows:

“…Is this still a working blog? New blog entries are getting fewer and fewer and there were none last month. I used to love this site, but now it makes me sad.”

(Um, yeah, so there was that one…)
(My soul is still wilting.)

And then there this excerpt via a private message from a friend of mine:

“It’s been such a long time since I have heard from you, I fear that something may have happened but I pray that all is well and you have just been busy with the new job and all…

…You must be working on something. I know you too well.”

(Thank you for thinking/worrying about me. And yes, you do know me pretty darn well. Me + stagnation = no).

So, that leads us to today’s blog post—really more as a private message from me (the missing person clearly about to be prominently featured on the side of paralegal coffee cartons) to you (the hopefully heavily-caffeinated, happy person) reading today’s post.

Please accept the following facts as truths:

  1. I am still alive.
  2. Just barely.

My soul is weary. And equal part giddy, people. Why? Because I am feverishly sprinting my way around the 3rd turn of what can only be described as a chaotic hell-oooo my paralegal friends at the present time, but in the best way possible. We decided this was the time to sell our home—the one I bought at age 27 on my own. (A big accomplishment for me as a single female at that time, I do admit.) It’s been grand for the first 9 years of Mister G’s young life. But the hubs and I are ready to move up and out to our “for real” home now. Yes, officially. Finally, at long married last–the one we pick out and buy together. (This is a problem many 2-house-owning-dating people run into every now and again, the consolidation of individual homes and plan to start anew.) I imagine most of you know/comprehend/understand how long and utterly arduous of a process selling a home can be for a person. That is the situation in which we found ourselves a few short weeks ago.

Cloaked in preemptive patience. Prepared to wait. Braced for an epic (and utterly exhausting) feat of cleaning the house, showing the house, cleaning the house yet again, showing the house yet again, and hoping and praying to sell the beloved house.) We were bracing ourselves for a long (make that a reeeeeeally long, long, long, long, like-never-ending, long) journey on our way out of the current digs and toward the promise land. We were optimistic. But realistic. A stellar combination.

This is how it all went down:

Day 1 – List the house.
Day 3 – Offer on the house.
Day 4 – Sell the house.
Day 5 – Buy a new house.

Yes. Exactly that fast. Trust me, it is a terrific problem to have. I. am. Grateful.

But that does not take one iota away from the inherent onslaught of absolute craziness that has ensued in my life in recent weeks/months. I have been silent on the blog, in the TPS group, and elsewhere, I do admit. Many of you may be aware that I am the queen of jury trials (I’m not really saying that, but I’m pretty darn sure my boss is, so it’s entirely arguable), but this whole simultaneous home selling/buying process totally wins the award—Godiva chocolate bars down—for a paralegal in the midst of the world’s most stressful project, wanting to karate chop (various) people in the throat (on the daily) after a long day (which lately, is pretty much every day) after dealing with the daily deadlines, communication issues, negotiations, back and forth, and repairs galore, not to mention the planning and packing.

My new personal motto has become “Just don’t kill anyone today.” (I am sad to report that is actually a challenge. An epic challenge). Couple that with the new firm gig, and throw in the fact that I have absolutely no internet reception in my current writing room and, well, here we find ourselves, folks. You, with no new blog posts to read…or throw darts at. Me, with a full serving on insanity…and no blog posts or articles written. My creativity refuses to function when I am stressed out and wish to kill people on the reg. The whole “witty, well-spoken words on a page” thing is so not happening. But it will again, I assure you.

So, my faithful readers—I make this promise to you:

I will be back. Better than ever. (I mean that.) And the blog will runneth again. I swear it.

And to those of you who actually noticed my lack of presence online or maybe even missed me—you rock.

That is all.

From the outer rung of home-buying-selling-never-ending-deadline-freak-out-and-run-around-like-a-crazy-person-while-trying-really-really-really-hard-not-to-kill-anyone hell—Jamie, out.

But not forever.


Hang in there, paralegal nation. I have some super duper cool, big things planned in the future. (Just as soon as I move an entire house, unpack, relocate my sanity, and find myself in a spiffy new writing room, complete with internet service that actually works. Heh.) 

Godspeed, my friends.