There are so many kinds of silence. Not just quiet, but silence. The gap between a question and an answer where someone thinks up a quick lie; that sudden lack of noise that signifies the kids are getting into trouble; how it feels when it's 3am and everyone else is asleep; the pause before a subject change when things get awkward; the stretch that never ends when someone dies.
I'm not a person who likes silence. Quiet I can get behind, but for me silence is ominous. It signifies danger to some degree or type, or loss. For me, despite having a blog and a reputation as a motor-mouth, silence is a Bad Thing. Ryan knows when I'm not talking is when I'm in the most pain or am the most upset. Silence here is the same thing; things are Not Right but thankfully it's just because I have two jobs now and between all the heavy lifting and standing on my feet, I'm pretty tired by the end of the day. We're also still in between moves and waiting on things from Victoria and figuring out housing (where, when, why!) All of this is eating at my ability to write. Nanowrimo? What's that? I hate November. It's almost always the worst month of the year for me, and this year is no exception.
Keep your eyes open for a post up at Fierce Fatties this week about including kids in the kitchen (and not just for clean up duty!) and on Friday we'll see if I made it to the shortlist for the Canadian Weblog Awards. Until then, stay shiny.