How's that for a hiatus? So, I still haven't published my book, as the story continues, and am now molding young minds as an elementary school teacher. Oh, and I'm married. Life's rad.

But onto Mom/Birth mom stuff...
The story has practically written itself, a combination of crushing irony and delicious poetry. In August, I made the trip back east to see both Mom and Peggy, my birth mom. Mom had been having a couple of bad days - not talking to me, mad at my stepdad, mad at me - and so DJ saved me, again. Now a days, when home turns into hell, he takes me to Peggy. She and I took the Metro into DC to go to the Newseum, a phenomenal museum of all things journalism. As we ambled down Pennsylvania Avenue, Peggy clucked her tongue and said, "Wow. The last time we walked through D.C. together, you were inside me.''

And that's the kind of time we had. It's tough for her, not knowing how to comment when I'm visibly depressed about Mom and another soul stifling trip to Gaithersburg. All she could do was be Peggy. So, on the Metro going back to Northern Virginia, she ran her painted nails through my tangled hair and said, "I just can't understand someone not appreciating your company.''

Back at Peggy's, I plopped on the couch and, after pouring us each a glass of wine, she shrieked at the TV. One of her favorite movies of all time was on: "Mommie Dearest.''

I knew it well.