Alive-again with Lutefisk and Scrabble.

Ah. My blog has not found death, rather, it has suffered through a debilitating illness for a lengthy period which it eventually conquered and has now risen, with the hope of being alive once more. My life during this period has been a blur.

I started the semester living in a freshly painted bright blue house with three other house mates and have ended it in a slightly less freshly painted bright blue house with the count back to its normal two occupants, John and myself. Dmetri, of whom I really haven't mentioned, is leaving the house to live in Seattle. Had I been a more avid writer, I would have mentioned him more, but he was a nice fellow that enjoyed cleaning and playing with my cats. Both of those traits being personality pluses.

I've finished most of my summer and fall research, and am now sinking into a writing fit, in which I think I will stay for quite a while. I really don't want to talk about it. Work makes me frustrated.

After the ending semester, I flew to Montreal for my yearly visit with my friend Gin. Montreal was nice, and since I improved my French so much over the summer, the inhabitants were much less snobby. Afterwards, I caught a flight back to Chicago and met up with John to go and visit his family. They were delightful as ever, with weather preventing many of the more obnoxious relatives from being there. I ate lutefisk to my fill and pondered over whispered Scandinavian conversations, that even when translated by John afterwards were left . . . wanting.

And now, in the present, I am curled up on my sofa with cocoa and marshmallows waiting for John to arrive so I pop out the bottle of wine and challenge him to a stirring game of Scrabble. Outside the weather has been cantankerous, which has caused me to feel as if I haven't moved or done anything productive in the past week.

For now, I'm read and think of high scoring Scrabble words.