Yes I am still here, and yes I really do want to get back to blogging.  Just  tidying up a few minor impediments first:

Periodic episodes of numbness and pain in my hands that has the medicos perplexed.  House decluttering, wallpaper stripping and new floor laying.
Mr hissychick’s new business venture.
Writer’s block.
Juggling school and preschool runs and fitting in what I can around Immyjim’s naps.

And the most piss poor excuse of all, spending time with my kidlets.  They are all healthy happy and well and all exercising various ways to crush my spirit of course.

I won’t lie, for some reason trying to catch up on blogging and photos and all of that palaver makes me anxious, and so I procrastinate.  However most of those of you who still check in from time to time are probably well aware that I tend to microblog on Fa(r)cebook, so if you want to keep in touch shoot me an email hissychick(at)gmail(dot)com.

To finish up, here are some not that recent pictures of my girl progeny, just to remind you of how cute they really are. Naturally they take after their mother.

Until next time, smooches. With tongue if you get the next round…

What I cannot explain is how my hand flew to my neck to touch the key as I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace at the exact time my Nana came out of theatre.

Spooky coincidences aside, I am so unbelievably thrilled to know that my Nana is doing her best to save the last dance for my Pop.  I would love nothing more than to see them reach seventy, even eighty years together.  Right now anything seems possible and I am drinking up every last drop of delicious hope.

My lovely and brave Nana, at eighty five years young, faces risky open heart surgery in the morning.

The gold key adorning my neck was her 21st present from her husband, a token of love for the new mother of his first child, my father.  These two soulmates have a love that has endured sixty five years of marriage. It breaks my own heart to think that this might be the end of their dance together.

My fingers caress the key, nestled snugly against the gold heart from Tiffany and Co that my own beloved bought for my thirtieth birthday.  I am not a person of faith. I am not a superstitious person.  I simply wish my own simple gesture of wearing a necklace would make it all okay.

Me= Emily, mostly known as Em.

Mr hissychick= James, the Jimbob and other assorted nicknames that I won’t print here.

A= Abigail, but widely known as Abi.

E= Evelyn, known to all as Evie.

Promise me you’ll still respect me in the morning……