The Morgan Trail: Journals

How NOT to Sell a House

Katy — Thu, 29 Sep 2011 13:20:32 +0000

I love being a home renter. The thought of my father-in-law coming to town to help us "fix" SOMEONE ELSE'S house is benefit enough (seriously love that man). But then there's the fact that we don't have to deal with pesky problems like property taxes, homeowner's associations, country club memberships, resale value, and keeping up with "The Joneses." Because, let's be honest, we'll only be here a few years and really don't care to meet the Joneses. But home ownership does have something more appealing than home rentership - and that's security. To know for certain that no one will come along and kick you out because they want their house back is very reassuring. Unless you're terribly indebted to your bank…but that's another situation all together.

l'm so thankful we no longer have to worry that our landlord will kick us out before the Air Force decides to move us back to America. We're no longer in that "danger zone" where we think we may have to live in a hotel our last several months in England - with a toddler and a baby nonetheless. So, when the real estate agent calls the house to schedule a viewing of potential buyers, I no longer dodge their calls or try to make the house seem intentionally unappealing (you'd be surprised how gifted I can be in this department).

We had a couple come by last week to take a look at "our" house, and I was more than accommodating. In fact, the house was as clean as it had been in weeks. The kitchen was clean and inviting with no decibel-piercing spin cycles coming from the washing machine. I had some candles burning rather than a trash can full of dirty diapers. And, I even went ON AND ON about what a great house it has been for entertaining. In fact, when they came upstairs to take a look, I engaged the husband in further discussion about how much we have loved this house.

I said to him, "We're really going to miss this place! That kitchen was really the selling point for me. I've thoroughly enjoyed it!" To which the husband replied, "Yes, the kitchen is where we spend most of our time! I can imagine you spent most of your time there as well."

And then I said something so unintentionally idiotic I still can't believe I said it.

"Well, honestly, I've spent most of my time here in this bedroom." And, as if that comment wasn't suggestive enough, I pointed to my enormously pregnant belly.

Insert long...painfully awkward silence.

Then this poor man slowly backed out of our master bedroom and rejoined his wife who had moved on to the guest bedroom.

I was mortified. Did I SERIOUSLY just say that? Of course, I meant to suggest that I've spent most of my time SLEEPING since my husband was deployed and I have a toddler. What it probably sounded like to him is that with a toddler, my blatant pregnancy, and my obvious lack of tact and/or judgment, I probably spend most of my time here entertaining men. But it was too late to backtrack and explain myself to this poor man. I had already made him as uncomfortable as humanly possible.

On a positive note, we've not received nearly as many calls to show potential buyers around the house.

Burning Questions

Katy — Fri, 22 Jul 2011 11:56:12 +0000

It's a funny thing this writing business (if you want to call The Morgan Trail a business). Sometimes I can churn out three posts a day. Other times, I hardly write one a month. A good friend of ours, Bo, has expressed a similar frustration on his blog. He calls it Paralyzing Perfectionism. Add it to my list of disorders.

Writing is an activity I tend to gravitate toward when I'm feeling "up." After all, who wants to read the incoherent ramblings of a depressed, stay-at-home-mom as she invites you to join her pity party of self-loathing? There's enough negative smut on the Internet that I try not to contribute to it when I'm feeling "down" or depressed. On the other hand, there are few things that irritate me more than reading all about someone's "perfect" life as they gush about it on Facebook or their blog. It's nauseating to read about their perfect life with their perfect husbands who have a perfect job to support their perfect kids. Then they post their perfect pictures from their perfect second honeymoon while their perfect parents watched their perfect kids for three PERFECT weeks. It makes me want to egg their perfect house.

So, I guess you could say I try to write somewhere in the middle. Where most of us reside. That place where we are comfortable enough with ourselves to admit that we DON'T have it all figured out. (By the way, I just washed an entire load of white clothes with a fluorescent yellow scarf. Epic housewife fail.) I've had lots of people express appreciation for the fact that I do open up about my struggles with depression or bipolar or whatever you want to call it. I've had friends and complete strangers thank me for writing from an honest place. And that's when I start to get excited. Like maybe this is something God has created me to do - to put words together on a blank page that will one day encourage others to live for His glory. And, of course, to learn to laugh at ourselves in the process.

Sometimes it just takes a little nudge. A little encouragement to get started. That's what Bo's blog post did for me this morning. I needed that reassurance that not everything I write or create has to be a masterpiece. Sometimes the most important thing is just to start.

And this all brings me to the point of this particular blog post. I get excited when I look at the statistics for our website and realize that, lo and behold, there are people out there who actually read this stuff. And, believe it or not, there are people who actually come across our site through search engines. But, when I looked a little bit further to see what top keywords people searched that led them to our site, this is what I discovered:

Tom Cruise hates psychotherapy

Okay, so I completely deserve that one. Next?

Pictures for enormous bums

What, exactly, have I written that would point a search engine to our site to give people more information on enormous bums? Is this supposed to be a pregnancy joke or something? 'Cause I'm not laughing!

If your pee is bubbly does this mean something bad?

Bubbly pee? Really? First of all, call your doctor. Or maybe your plumber. Second of all, why does a search engine point them to our blog? Is it because I'm obsessed with WebMD? I bet it is. Great, now we're going to get lots of people coming here who are searching for answers to their most "burning" (pun intended) medical questions.

Now I'm going to put it back to you, my dear readers. What are your favorite kinds of stories/articles to read? Or, better yet, what are some of your favorite blogs, websites, magazines out there that you read on a regular basis? (One of my absolute favorites is The Pioneer Woman.) Do you have any "burning questions" that I (or WebMD) could answer for you? I'd love to write more about the things that interest YOU!

But Wait, There's More!

Katy — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 19:15:01 +0000

I'm a sucker for a good sales pitch. Really, any sales pitch. Salespeople can smell me coming from a mile away. That's why Saturdays in the BX and the Commissary are always so difficult for me. All it takes is one free sample, and I suddenly feel I must buy three boxes of Ham, Egg & Cheese Breakfast Hot Pockets. It's a compulsion, really. Or maybe it's the law of reciprocity. They give me a bite-sized free sample; I subsequently buy their nasty microwave food. That seems reasonable.

Recently, my parents were here for a visit, and we were shopping around the BX on a Saturday afternoon. Suddenly, this overly-enthusiastic voice comes over the loud-speaker and says, "Ladies and Gentlemen, do you like free stuff? Then meet me in front of the fragrance aisle in five minutes for your FREE gift!" My mom and my hubby both rolled their eyes as if to say, "Oh, no. Here we go again." You see, this very scenario happened four years prior, and we all went home with a box of $30 knives that have since rusted. But, I'll have you know they are still sharp!

Since my dad and I are both suckers for "free" stuff, we made our way over to the fragrance department. There, we found the awkwardly enthusiastic man with his bowl of water, his tomato, his piece of mangled wood, and his set of never-seen-before-knives. Except we had seen them just a few years ago. Still, dad and I stood there like we'd never seen a knife before. When he asked us to come closer, we came closer. When he whispered to us about how few "free" gifts he had to give away, we leaned in to better hear him. We were eating out of his hand.

At one point he impressed us with the powerful capabilities of his incredibly inexpensive knives. He sawed through a piece of wood like it was a stick of butter. [Only a slight exaggeration.]

Meanwhile, my mom and my husband - who both refused to come closer when he asked them to do so - continued to roll their eyes in disbelief. They thought surely I wouldn't fall for this same sales pitch AGAIN. Especially when I already had the same stupid knives. Especially when said knives are currently rusting in my kitchen drawer. Especially when this salesperson is horrible.

And they were wrong. I bought the $30 knives. Dad just got the free gift (a lens cleaning cloth). Tightwad.

My family laughed at me the whole way home at how easily I am swayed by a horribly predictable and uncomfortable sales pitch. Maybe I bought the knives because I felt sorry for the guy in his early twenties who had all the charm and wit of a bill collector. Maybe I wanted to get rid of the rusty knives currently in my drawer. Maybe I am just that easily swayed by salespeople. (Don't even get me started on my track record with infomercials.)

But wait, there's more!

A few weeks later, we were at dinner with another military couple when my husband couldn't help but throw me under the bus about this whole knife business. He explained the entire excruciating story to them. The sales pitch, the "free" gift, the sawing of the wooden block...and then my friend's husband said, "Wait, I know who you're talking about. I saw that guy in the ER!" Apparently, this knife sales "professional" proceeded to slice his hand during a demonstration - oh, and let's not forget to mention that the knife broke apart and hit his one of his spectators as well. No doubt he had just asked her to take a step closer.

I couldn't stop laughing. And now I'm just picturing this poor guy with stitches in his hand trying to sell these knives to an already-skeptical audience. He probably had to change his sales pitch to say, "I would show you the part where this spectacular knife cuts through a block of wood as easily as a stick of butter, but I'm going to have to wait until I get my stitches removed."

What's the most ridiculous thing you've ever purchased because you got caught up in the sales pitch? Any Magic Bullet owners out there? Any of you hanging on to an ab machine for the past 15 years that you've never touched?

Cross-posted on SpouseBUZZ

Bird Talk

Katy — Mon, 06 Jun 2011 17:59:05 +0000

Saw these two love birds on our garage today and had to tell you about their conversation:

He-Bird: Come on, baby, I thought you liked it when I kiss your neck!

She-Bird: I said, NOT RIGHT NOW! I'm not in the mood. Not after working around the nest all day.

He-Bird: I bet if you stop talking and let me kiss your neck some more, you'll FIND the mood!

She-Bird: Honestly! You're so insensitive sometimes! I said I'm not in the mood, and you just keep after me. Maybe instead of using all your energy to make out with me, you can put some work into making our nest a decent place to live. I work my little beak to the bone...

She-Bird: Did you hear me?!?!?

She-Bird: Don't you walk away from me when I'm talking to you! This is EXACTLY why I'm not in the mood sometimes. You come home expecting me to drop everything and tend to your needs. WELL, WHAT ABOUT MY NEEDS?

He-Bird: (Mumbling) I couldn't meet YOUR needs if I had all the time in the world. My needs take two minutes...MAYBE three.

She-Bird: I can't even look at you right now! Maybe you could meet my needs a little better if you took the time to actually LISTEN to them! Instead, you come home barking orders like, "Where's my worm, woman?" Well, GO FIND YOUR OWN WORMS! I'm tired of being your slave. I'm going to sleep at my sister's tonight.

He-Bird: (Doesn't realize she's gone.) That's fine. Just make sure you leave enough worms for me and the kids. You know I don't like to have to go hunting after a long day at the... (Realizes she's gone.) Kids! Do you know where your mom keeps the worms?

These two need therapy!

Best of Britain: Sunday Roast

Katy — Sun, 05 Jun 2011 19:05:06 +0000

I recently posted a Facebook comment about something I'm going to miss when we leave the UK, and it inspired me to create a series of posts entitled "The Best of Britain." We are scheduled to leave this great country in December, so I should have enough time to procrastinate to death and post at least two more of these.

In my Facebook post I marveled at the efficiency of the postal service over here. (And all the Americans just thought, "She can't be serious." Oh, but I am.) I ordered something on Amazon.co.uk at 12:14 p.m. last Wednesday, and it arrived Thursday morning at 9 a.m.! It's almost crazy to waste the gas to drive 20-30 minutes away when you can pay a few pounds in shipping to have those baby-proofing items at your door the next morning. I love this place. And I love Amazon.co.uk. (I also love JJ-proof locks for my cabinets. That kid enjoys smashing our fine China.)

Sometimes, though, it pays to drive a little further for something spectacular. This week, I got a craving for a traditional, English Sunday roast. Despite the mountain of homework and work responsibilities he had to do this afternoon, Brian agreed that we should go to the Plough Inn in Icklingham for lunch. (Yet another reason I adore that man.)

Side note: In case you're new to this blog, I'd like to let you know that I am now in my 5th month of pregnancy and nothing excites me more than food. Well, food and massages. Ooh! Massages while I eat! If only there was a Mexican restaurant with those really expensive massage recliners. We'd have to come up with a way to make them so they don't lean back too far, though. Indigestion, you know? I have to believe that the world's greatest inventions (like massage chairs and remote controls) were invented by pregnant women. Or possibly husbands of pregnant women who were sick of hearing about it.

But I digress...

Back to our Sunday roast.

We called to book a table as we always do at this particular pub because they refuse to let you in the door without one. No joke, we went there on a whim once, and the manager said to us, "Have you booked a table?" We looked around the empty pub as if to say, "Are you joking?" And he wasn't. He sent us on our way. So, since we know how the English love it when those pesky Americans follow the rules, we booked a table for 1 p.m.

In most pubs in Britain, you place your order at the bar before you're seated, and this is one of those traditional places. I ordered the beef roast, and Brian went for the chicken. After placing our order the manager said to us, "I could have guessed that." I suppose he's grown accustomed to our faces. Also, we're very predictable.

When our plates arrived, I could hear a choir of angels accompany the lovely waitress to our table. Out came the three generous slices of beef with a perfect amount of thick gravy. I also had a beautiful, homemade Yorkshire pudding on my plate and two roasted potatoes. Quick lesson here: Yorkshire pudding is the reason God invented gravy. They're puffed pastries filled with nothing. They're just puffed-up pastry with a dip in the center to hold - you guessed it - gravy. Isn't that the most glorious thing you've ever heard? (Remember, I'm pregnant.) The two, large roasted potatoes on my plate were perfectly browned and crisp - no doubt from the goose fat used to cook them. I've come to love goose fat for this reason.

Brian's plate was a beautiful presentation of half a roasted chicken. I'll stop here and clarify for the Americans who are accustomed to our hormonally-injected super-chickens in the States. This was half of an average-sized chicken browned to perfection and served with its own special gravy. Brian also had a small portion of dressing and roasted potatoes to accompany his meal.

Traditionally, Sunday roasts are served with meat, potatoes, and LOTS of vegetables. Today was no exception. They brought to the table an assortment of roasted carrots, parsnips, cabbage, broccoli, and potatoes. Yes, more potatoes! Brits love their potatoes.

I ate until I couldn't eat any more. I cleaned off my plate, most of Brian's and the family-sized portion of veggies. And as I contemplated an order of Sticky Toffee Pudding for dessert, I caught a glimpse of the smile on Brian's face as he watched me scarf down the rest of our feast. I knew exactly what he was thinking, too. "I can't wait until this baby is born and our lives no longer revolve around her next meal."

Well, me too, buddy!

How to Juice a Zucchini

Katy — Mon, 23 May 2011 20:21:47 +0000

Did I ever tell you about my superpower? I know, I know...which one, right? (Heavy sarcasm intended.) Well, it's not my ability to spot a grammatical error from a thousand yards (except in my own writing, naturally). Nor is it my ability to visually express with my face every single thought that comes into my head. This, obviously, is NOT a superpower during a job interview or at family reunions. "Sure, Great Uncle Milford, I'd looooove to hear your war stories...again. Oh, no, I wasn't rolling my eyes. I thought there was something on the ceiling."

This superpower was developed over many years of planning a weekly menu, grocery shopping for said menu, placing menu items into the fridge, and then forgetting about the menu AND the items until there is literally zucchini juice dripping down the shelves of the fridge. This superpower has only intensified since my pregnant cravings for fresh fruits and vegetables have overridden my shopping sensibilities. (Yes, mother, I just used shopping and sensibilities in the same sentence.)

How many bananas, apples, plums, nectarines, peaches, grapes, cherries, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, celery stalks, carrots, and heads of lettuce can a family possibly consume by the time they're molded or - in our case - asking for a haircut? We're still trying to figure that out. By the way, those items I just mentioned were all items I purchased this weekend. I kid you not.

It's shameful how much produce I have to discard on a weekly basis (correction: ...how much produce my husband has to discard. The smell, you know?), but I promise I really do believe while I'm grocery shopping that I am able to survive on nothing but fruits and vegetables. And then my French fry craving kicks in, and it's all over after that.

Don't get me wrong, I do appreciate our nation's military allies, but dang you, France! You and your fries, and your toast, and your baguettes...

In protest, I will continue to enjoy my evening snack of Pepsi (I know...I'm pregnant! And I'm from Atlanta!) and Hot Fries which are NOT French.

This is kind of a side note, but I have an idea I must share. I think commissaries worldwide should have personal shoppers the same way fancy clothing stores do. Only, instead of a personal shopper who discourages me from buying a dress that's three sizes too small, a personal commissary shopper (or PCS) could persuade me to buy a quantity of food that appropriate for an average-sized pregnant woman, her husband and one-year-old son instead of, say, a herd of elephants. And then maybe this PCS could bring it all to my house and cook it for me.

Cross-posted at www.spousebuzz.com

Top 5 Reasons Precious and G-man Could Live With Us

Katy — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 15:56:28 +0000

Our personal chef (Precious) and her busboy (G-man). I dream up a menu, she prepares it, I eat it, and dad cleans it. Does life get any better than that?
The sound of JJ’s laugh when they are downstairs playing with him in the mornings…while I’m upstairs still sleeping.
Our yard hasn’t looked this good since the last time dad was here (or maybe since the last time Brian’s dad was here).
Grill Master G-man makes a mean pork chop!
Precious is a one-woman party-planning committee.
(I couldn’t just stop at 5…)
It’s easier to catch these stellar Pamisms* when you’re with her all day.
Even though dad and I have the worst luck EVER when it comes to playing cards, it’s fun to watch Brian try to beat my mom.
Mom actually enjoys changing diapers.
Brian has someone else to blame when there are suddenly only 3 Cheetos left in the bag.
We laugh constantly when they’re around. We’re usually laughing at them, but they don’t seem to mind.

Excuse me, but I’d better get back to organizing my office while mom gets JJ up from his nap.

Love,

A Well-rested Mother Who May Have Inadvertently Invited Her Parents To Stay Forever (oops)

*A Pamism is a phrase, word, or expression that mom says in complete seriousness that makes the rest of us roll on the floor. A few examples:

As dad is trying (unsuccessfully) to button his shirt she says, "Gerald, you've got it on all wampy cactus!"
Katy: "Mom, why do I NEED to go buy a tiered cupcake stand?" Pam: "So that when JJ looks back at his first birthday pictures he'll know how much you love him." Katy: "You don't know very much about men."
"My voice is terrible...and I don't know it."
Katy: "Mom, have you ever pulled one of your kitchen knives on dad?" Mom: "Not one of the new ones."

Tom Cruise Is Going To Hate Me For This

Katy — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 18:09:36 +0000

I can’t describe the kind of euphoric high I feel right now. It’s sheer joy and anticipation wrapped in a warm blanket of sunshine. No, I’m not on hallucinogens. But I am sitting here at my desk with my cold glass of sweet tea, a hummus and cucumber sandwich (don’t knock it ‘till you try it) and the dumbest smile on my face. My counselor (a.k.a. Ears) told me this might happen. And I hoped and prayed he was right.

Since you’re probably confused, I guess it’s time to share a little bit of what I’ve learned in therapy the past several months. I sought out counseling this time on my own (and not just at the advice of some general practitioner who was tired of me crying in his office). I decided that a diagnosis of depression didn’t quite encompass everything I experienced on a day-to-day basis. In fact, most people who know me would say that they couldn’t imagine that I dealt with depression at all. But those who know me BEST have seen the worst of it.

It didn’t take Ears very long to figure out what he thought is going on in this brain of mine. It has a name in Psych World. It’s called Cyclothymia. Basically, it’s a VERY mild form of Bipolar Disorder (formerly known as Manic Depressive Disorder). Much like Tom Cruse, I’m not too excited about labels like Cyclothymia or Bipolar Disorder. But unlike Tom Cruise, I know that there are legitimate, physiological changes that take place in the brain of a person with one of these disorders. Just the awareness of that has given me a huge amount of comfort and clarity. As a side note, Tom Cruise needs to get off of Oprah’s couch and find one in the office of a good therapist. What a nut.

Fortunately, I don’t experience the extreme “euphoric” highs (complete with lavish spending sprees or risky behavior...or couch jumping) and suicidal lows associated with full-blown Bipolar. But, unfortunately for me, the “lows” definitely outnumber the “highs” about 100 to 1. This is why I hoped my counselor was right and that I would eventually get out of the funk I was in for the past two months. Today was a wonderful day for me, and I’m riding this "high" as long as possible. [Note: My periods of concentrated blog entries tend to take place during these up-swings. And that’s also why you may not hear from me for months at a time. Now you know and can bug me like my mom does when I’m depressed.]

Truthfully, I have a hard time understanding how this informal diagnosis (Ears doesn’t really like labels either) fits into my beliefs as a Christian. I recognize that many of the things I do and say during these swings can be sinful, and I don’t want to give it any label other than sin. I've done my best to view my counseling and other treatment options through the lens of God’s plan to glorify Himself through my life. And that’s not easily done when the world wants to put labels other than sin on every behavior under the sun.

So, how’s that for too much information on a Wednesday?

You know, I love to share my life with you – the wonderful, exciting moments as well as the difficult and painful ones. This is actually one of the most therapeutic things I do for myself, and I just appreciate those of you who read this site and encourage me. Just yesterday, a precious friend of mine told me that her dad (a published author) enjoys my writing. And that’s why I do it. Because if I can entertain a 70-year-old man with my stupid stories about food cravings and my trips to my therapist, then I get pretty excited about that.

As an aspiring writer (of what and for whom I still don’t know), I just want to thank all of you for actually reading this nonsense and for encouraging me along the way.

This means more to me than you will ever know.

Top 5 Things That Have Rocked My World Recently

Katy — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 15:33:23 +0000

Is that not the faintest line you've ever seen? This is why I had to take 6 of them!Let’s see how I can possibly describe the past 35 days – the length of time since my last post wherein I promised to “get back in the swing very soon”. It turns out that “very soon” is about five times slower than a slug in a marathon. Or me running a marathon. You know, on that subject, I’ve had some really strange dreams the past year or so. I keep dreaming that my legs don’t work any more. I keep trying to run, and my mind is screaming, “Run!” But my legs feel like they’re stuck in quicksand. Analyze that, Ears. See you next week.

Our lives have been consumed this past month or so with some strange, exciting and downright frustrating moments. And as much as I would love to bore you with all the details, I have decided to return to our “Top 5” series and give it to you in list form.

Top 5 Things that have Rocked My World Recently

A BIG surprise - On February 2, 2011, Brian was on a TDY (tour of duty) in Iceland. We were chatting through Skype when I remembered my decision to take another pregnancy test that morning. Since I have the attention span of a chicken (I dunno…it just came to my head), I forgot to look at the results (because two minutes is just TOO long to stand there!). Remember, I took the first pregnancy test of the year on January 28^th, and it was negative. So, I just assumed this one would be as well. While on Skype with Brian and JJ, I said, “Oh! I forgot that I took a pregnancy test this morning and didn’t even look at it.” I ran to the bathroom to get it…and that’s when the fun began. We got to tell our families in person during our trip back to the States in early February. It was such a wonderful experience! So, we’re gearing up for baby #2 due some time in mid-October. Oh, and if you’re still keeping track, the 2011 pregnancy test count is now at 7. I know, I know. But I just can’t trust one positive test. I had to take six. Well, since I wrote a book on #1, I’ll keep the rest short.
A change of perspective - I realized something very important recently as it relates to my marriage. As I’ve openly shared in the past, Brian and I haven’t exactly breezed through this whole marriage thing without some bumps in the road. But I think for the first time I truly embraced this beautiful sentence in the vows I made to him back in 2005: “I will support and uplift you by word and deed by putting more emphasis on what you are than what you are not.” Ouch. It appears I forgot about that line when times got tough. God-willing, my words and deeds will continue to reflect this change of perspective.
Three words: Muammar “Nutcase” Gaddafi. Let’s just say that military life in Europe has been VERY interesting this month.
www.SpouseBUZZ.com - I have the amazing opportunity to serve as a contributor for SpouseBUZZ! My first post published yesterday, and I received such a warm welcome from that huge community of military spouses. I am so thankful for the chance to meet some remarkable people and to continue my passion for writing.
Baked potatoes - I had some interesting cravings my last pregnancy. I couldn’t get enough chicken fingers, French fries, Diet Coke and Hot Fries. It actually gags me to think of those foods right now. This time, the cravings have been much healthier. I can’t get enough baked potatoes, salad, fruit, water, and sweet tea (sweetened with honey, not sugar). The funny part is that I have NEVER in my entire life craved a baked potato, salad or sweet tea. Never. I’m thrilled, though. Beats the heck out of the junk I wanted last time. But, in the interest of full disclosure, I have caved to Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal and Thin Mints. (Those evil little girls got me again this year!)

So, this was not AT ALL list form as promised. Forgive me if I’m a little rusty on the writing. 35 days is a long time. That’s approximately the lifespan of a mosquito. Now you know.

Beach Bums

Katy — Tue, 15 Feb 2011 19:17:18 +0000

In case you haven't noticed (and I sure hope you have), I've been MIA for nearly 20 days. I honestly attempted to blog while we were gone, but I couldn't bring myself to take the time away from my wonderful family...or the beach.

We got back home Sunday from our trips to Atlanta (for 5 days) and Turks & Caicos Islands (for 8 days), but I'm still not 100% normal (no jokes here, please). I hope JJ and I will return to a regular schedule here in the next few days. Until then, the idea of holding my head up long enough to write is completely exhausting.

I do, however, plan to get back in the swing very soon. I have LOTS of exciting news and fun new site features to introduce (including more Name That Tune Tuesday contests and Morgan Trail Reader of the Month). Stay tuned, because The Morgan Trail is back in business!

Until then, though, I'll post some photos of our trip to make you jealous.

This is the life.

Actually, THIS is the life.Anyone seen a baby around here?

My beach baby.I defy you, sun!Not a huge fan of the ocean...or the sand......or enormous Sesame Street characters.If I ever go missing, look for me here. Actually, don't.