Sunday, January 2, 2011

Bio Dad and Allotment Man (The Year of Dads and Writing)

Hey, its me.....remember? The one with the chocolate?

I will understand if you've forgotten me - I just found this blog and discovered that my last post was in 2009. You know, my 'come with me on my journey as I share with you' post. I'm so sorry, I left you standing by the side of the road and never picked you up, didn't I? I have no excuse, except that I thought I'd left some chocolate under the bed, and have been down there looking for it for the whole of my thirty sixth year of life.

Oh, and when I say I just 'found' this blog, obviously I didn't LOSE it, as such, I just....OK, yes, I lost my blog. Changed my email, lost my password, lost my blog. For a year. Keep reading my ramblings, get to know me, and I promise, this will not surprise you at all.

So, year thirty six of me. What did you miss, apart from the view under the bed? Well, there was a reason I was looking for that chocolate. I could talk about being unemployed for a year here, and I am sure you would thoroughly enjoy some anguished poetry torn from the depths of my tortured soul (watch this space, its coming soon!) It has not been a fun year as regards my health, and I look forward to showing you my vacation photos from Sturdy Memorial Emergency Room some time.

But to be honest, its hard to write about the negative things, because when I look back on 2010, I will remember nothing but this....

- Its entirely possible that God knows what He is doing and I should have listened in the first place, but I am so glad He had the patience until I got it!

- I am a writer. I am not 'a writer but I do this for my proper job'. I am not 'a writer, well, anyway, I'm having a go and we'll see what happens.' I am officially a 'work in the middle of the night, watch out what you say to me 'cos I'll put you in a book, sitting in Borders cafe scribbling and drinking lattes' writer. As Jewel once sang, 'All you unbelievers, move out of the way......'

- My Daddy loves me. Now before you go and collect your barf buckets and start rolling your eyes at each other, let me explain. I am adopted, and I made contact with my Dad for the first time ever back in September this year. He is a writer and an artist and a complete nutjob, thinks I am the best thing he ever got for Christmas and, in the words of my best friend Sarah, is SO my Dad!

Now, don't get me wrong - my adoptive Dad, who brought me up and has always been my Dad will...well, he'll always be my Dad! To make sure all Dads are clear on this (its getting kind of crowded in the Dad Room and I wouldn't want anyone feeling left out) they have both acquired different identities.

On the left, we have Bio Dad in Turkey, doing Karaoke in silly hats. On the right, may I introduce you to Allotment Man......fearlessly growing fine British carrots for his family in all weather, while avoiding Mum in his shed. (Sorry, Mum!)

They even have something in common (apart from a fantastic daughter, of course) Socks and sandals. Why do Dads do that? The whole world over, fashion challenged Fathers are putting on socks and sandals, looking down, and saying to themselves 'that'll do.'

Am I blessed or what?

Psalm 28 v 7

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