The bitch is BACK.

Maybe it was the successful Christmas pudding (more on that later).

Maybe it was the continued outpouring (inpouring?) of lurv and support from my grrls and my dollfriends and my Scrogues and everyone.

Maybe I’m just sick of my morbid, joy-sucking self.

Or maybe… it was this:

A completely unexpected Christmas-or-the-pagan-equivalent gift from my long-lost and happily found friend, Bansheegrrl. I opened the shipping box. I unwrapped the snowman paper. I squeaked in undignified delight when I saw what it was – a year’s worth of shoe porn to delight my superficial soul. And as I ripped open the cellophane to get at the goodies inside, it came to me.

I. LOVE. SHOES. Fucking love them. And clothes and dolls and pre-Raphaelite art and Terry Pratchett books and ethnic costume and making stuff and silk brocade and good coffee and sex in the morning and old movies and windy cold days and expensive leather bags and going fast in my car and I can love all those things AND take good care of my daughter. In fact, if I keep loving what I love, hard, I’ll be a better mom. And wife. There is more than enough time in the day to wedge in some totally unproductive fretting while having a life – and mine is a pretty damn good life. And so is Nora’s.

I owe the Scrogues some writing. I have a major doll project in the works for a show in May. Nora’s test results will be ready tomorrow or the next day. Brian has set up a New Year’s Eve date for us.

Thank you, Banshee. Thank you everyone.

Now I’m going to shop for some drop-dead gorgeous red shoes.