The second is the hardest part.

For starters, I hope you just sang that title to the tune of Tom Petty's "Waiting is the hardest part." (And if you didn't then, you have now, and you feel awesome.) Moving on.

This week, I've been at a loss as to what my second post should be about. A certain level of forgiveness comes with a first post, yes? But the second, the second must be solid. It must affirm your decision to spend the time to come back. It must foster the beginning buds of your admiration. It must be articulate, thoughtful and, well, about something.

I suppose we can choose a topic by elimination. Yes, that should work. So, without further ado, let's discuss what this second post is not about. Surely, that will leave us with something for the third.

1. The Big Move - My parents moved out of my childhood home this past week. They've been in the process of this for awhile now - transitioning from the city to the, um, wilderness. A few years back, they bought a ranch in Walburg, Texas. If you know Randall and Sharon, this perhaps comes as a surprise to you. Here's how I can sum it up: Daddy was chopping trees down a while back (Can you picture it? The best dressed man I know, chopping trees? Baaahah.), and his brand-new, shiny chainsaw stopped working. What would a veteran, non-born, bred and raised-in-the-city rancher do? Hmm, perhaps fix it. Yeah, right. Randall trashes the first and buys a second brand-new, shiny chainsaw just to get the dang trees chopped. Oh wait, second brand-new, shiny chainsaw breaks too. Son-of-a-mother. Pause, pause, think, think. Fume, kick a few things, think, think. Inspect, inspect again. Well, that's strange.....is the chain on backwards? Ah, and there it is.

That, my friends, sums up my parents selling their big-city house and moving full-time to their ranch. (They call it a "farm" - but to me, that conjures rolling hills. The farm/ranch certainly has none of those.) For the record, this post is not about the move. And this post is not about the ranch. Those posts will come in due-time. Trust me, that house has a lot of good stories to tell and great pictures to share. And tell and share them I will, just not today.   

2. See You Later, Sucker - So, Goose and I were married for about 23.5 days when he threw in the towel, grabbed his passport and hightailed it back to Mexico City. His parting words - "See you later, sucker."

Woah, or not. He did, however, go to visit his parents in the Mother Land. If you were at the wedding, I hope the lady-in-the-red-dress's constant "Mexico! Mexico! Mexico!" chant just overtook your subconscious. Only at our wedding, folks. But I digress. Mexico is in the middle of their presidential elections, and Goose is in the middle of his twilight summer. He's taking advantage of it by making the global rounds, beginning with Mexico City. Panama City, the Cape and New York City to come. I miss him. I don't miss having bathrooms with toilet lids up. He's like a ninja in the night, following me around and re-lifting them upon my bathroom completion. (Married ladies - when does this stop? Ever?) However, this post is not about Goose's travels. Nor is it about his toilet training.  

3. I'm THIS Car Person- I did it. I took the plunge. No, I'm not referencing my recent marriage. That part was a walk in the park. Even more scary than that, I bought a new car. I've never been a car person. They just don't make my clock tick. However, my loyal Land Rover is nearing the end. It's been a good ride together, literally, figuratively, mentally, haphazardly. But it's time. Goose bought The Rover originally over Christmas Break our junior year of college. He drove it until he moved to Panama, at which point I inherited it. It's seen me through the daily drives to class, it carted me to every single inteview, call-back and final round I had, it has gotten me safely to Austin and back countless times, and it has made several moves with me. She's faithful, but she needs a pretty intense facelift.

Goose and I had decided we'd both get new cars after the wedding. Wedding presents to ourselves, no Thank You Cards involved. We thought Goose would be first - after all, his car's A/C went out on the way to Houston from Virginia. About two hours in, with two days to go. It only blows hot air, and refuses to be turned off. Yeah, you can imagine what that smells like in 100-degree heat. But, Goose made his most husbandly-decision to date - he let me get the new car first. It's awesome. That's all I can say. I'm still not a car person, I'm THIS car person.

And don't worry. We kept The Rover. Perhaps we will sell it, perhaps we won't. We both love her. And in the meantime, Pablo has A/C again - Allelu-uh-uh-jah. If you're in the market for a silver car of some sort that comes with one mirror and hot air only, let us know. We happen to have one.

And double-don't worry. We picked it up on a Saturday. Pablo wrecked it on a Monday. But that's a tale for a different time. Because, this post is not about my shiny new car that I love oh-so-much or the subsequent wreck she endured at the hands of my brand-new husband.

4. Adios Master Closet Number 3 and Craft Armoire - Let's be honest here...I'm a freakazoid when it comes to organization and my master closets. Plural, indeed, because I have three. In fact, I rented the largest apartment my complex offered SOLELY for its closets. I had a nuclear meltdown a few weeks ago when I had to empty the third to make way for the random dude moving in. And not to mention emptying my craft armoire for same said-dude's dude-stuff.  How was I going to truly survive without my craft armoire? Oh, the terror. Oh, the SHAME. (Lion King anyone, yes?)

Well, we're a few weeks into it, and here's what I've learned. I like Goose living with me, even if I only have two master closets and my crafts have been relegated to a plastic set of drawers behind a curtain. We're making it work. All of our married friends told us the first few months would be about adjustments. And so they are, and we are adjusting-away.

5. Commas - Please recall my first post. I told you one of the things this blog would be about would be commas. More specifically, my grammatically correct discretionary use of them. Now, please re-read all of the above, and you will find commas are my favorite punctuation mark. I'm a comma nerd, I confess it and emphatically embrace it. And here's a secret: Be afraid to write me. I'm judging you and your ability to use commas. But, alas, this blog post is not about love of commas and 76% of the world's inability to engage them properly.

6. Go Forward and Know That I Am With You - I don't want my blog to be about sad things. Even when I'm sad. But I want to share this with you, because I know so many of you have shared the sad things with me these last six months. I pride myself on not being a pack-rat. I toss things like it's my job. However, I've always saved cards I've received. In fact, I can probably squirrel together the map of my life through cards you've sent me. Goose thinks its useless. Up until now, I couldn't really justify my single-item hoarding. I'd just harumph and save away. But here's why I'm thankful I did. In packing up my childhood room last week, I came across a box of cards, including those that I received for high school graduation. Tucked amongst them was one from my Mom, and here's what it said: "I am so proud of you. Go forward knowing that I am with you."

It's like she wrote that card all those years ago (about ten, to be exact), just for this time. For me to stumble upon. For me to know that she's still with me, her spirit in my heart, even when she's gone. More than sad, the card makes me peaceful, something I have not been since she passed away. And that's all I can ask for. But, alas, this post is not about Mom. She'll wait with me for another day and another post.

Still with me? If you are, you deserve a medal. Phew, that was long, rambling and lacking of any central thought. Apologies are due. The Second Post (as you see, it has now warranted its own capital letters) is admittedly about nothing. I trust that it is the hardest part. Maybe I've discovered a rhythm worthy of a third blog post. And that post, I promise, will be about something. Something in the singular, less-rambling and shiny.

See you, covered in glitter, then.