The Terminal

Hey guys...OMG. Is it true? Can it be the one herself? The mother who birthed this blog, then let it sit amongst the ruins of a year that was documented and then forgotten like a pair of old shoes, smelling and dirty in the closet. Si senor! She is I, and I is her, and her is me. I've been away, living my life, away from the blogsphere, don't get me wrong...I still visit. I read daily blogs written by people who only dedicate their lives to writing, unlike me who only makes empty promises of writing more when in reality I don't have the strength or patience anymore. But yet I can't give you up, "Why?" You may ask....For moments like this. This moment that I'm living and all the other moments that I've lived in NYC, when I should have written my thoughts and shennigans down, but I couldn't. But here I sit, in Newark airport, thrice delayed. I should've been on a flight to Chicago over three hours ago, but even my little brothers' name wants to cause me grief and throw a wrench into my life. Fucking Neto...pinche hurricane Ernesto! Named after the brother that is dead to me. Well, apparently he is alive and angry, he manifested himself a big tantrum and caused me to be stranded here. Is this entry even making sense you ask? No. But you can blame that on the HUGE Top Shelf margarita that I had and also the GRANDE cerveza chaser I had, you know, just a little bit of medicine to dull the pain. Things are going well for me..really well. I keep waiting for someone at work to turn on the light and yell " Gotcha, I knew you were a fraud!" Pero, no! They keep giving me more and more to do, and I just keep shuffling along, the whole time so afraid, that my shirts are being ruined with all the sweat that pours out from under my arms!! But I love what I do! I get to travel and meet wonderful people and live another life that most think fantastic. It's been a year since I came on board and I've come far, very far.
In my absence I have Lencho the keys to this house, and he finally posted. A great post, even though he dug up the past that I buried under a house, with a tree on top of it. But I love him even more, for using my lessons to learn from.
Where is this plane!!
I have so much to write about, but I think that I'll leave it here and pick up when I get to Chicago.
I do love you guys...if there are any of you left.

DF