I'm aware as I write this how fortunate I've been. Nearly three years ago, I faced complete and utter disaster: personal, fiscal, emotional, social. The low points were too many to count, but I remember having to consider, seriously, options as drastic as executing a divorce against a comatose man in order to protect our home.

As I am beginning the process of packing up to leave, the irony of that previous statement is not lost on me.

I'm trying to hold fast to my promise to take the most dignified path possible out of my marriage. Say nothing publicly, ruin no friendships, leave Jeff every chance possible to make a good life for himself once I am gone. I got a taste yesterday, though, of just how angry I am, and just how easy it would be to scorch the earth behind me. How tempting.

Before I forget -- again -- I'm lodging this recipe from esmerel, who says I must make this at least once and try it:

Makes 2 loaves

Might as well say it bluntly: I've needed time to resume sewing after losing Tenzing. It's hard to lose your furry sewing buddy and leap right back into the hobby like nothing happened. I'm still not really really all the way back on the horse, but I'm getting there. I'm working my way through a few projects, but I've started focusing on the long-paused "Pentatonic." I spread out the quilt, started assessing what I had cut, and realized I was further along than I'd originally expected. So I'm plowing forward.

In terms of time, there are about five months left. I added it up, though, and thanks to the traveling I'm doing, I will only be in this house for about another 45 days. That knowledge colors my actions.

This is the point where, with a massively awkward silence, I look at the blog I've had to let rot and say to a subset of friends, "Can we talk?" The reality, though, is that you probably know what this post is about, and even if you don't know for certain, you have a sinking feeling, deep down, that you already suspect what I need to say.

Let me put it plainly, then, so we can move on: