It’s pretty much official, I’m too old for New Orleans. Or maybe I’m just out of practice.

I spent 4 fabulous full days there with friends, both old and new, at Mom 2.0 Summit. I went to some amazing sessions and heard some very powerful words from people in the blogosphere who influence myself and so many others. I had the best roomies ever, and except for an unfortunate incident involving baby powder, the terlet and a phone, we managed to stay out of trouble. World’s collided. Chef John Besh cooked and served me and some of my best girls a fabulous lunch, sponsored my a staple in my pantry, Zatarain’s. I met a guy from Community Coffee who was best friends in high school with the son of my old police chief. And I befriended a cabbie who was a native and remembered all the good things about the city before the storm came. I was in my element, and man did it feel good!

I also drank copious amounts of alcohol, ate way too much food, bought too much local art and danced and laughed with friends until the wee hours of the morning.

In short, I had a blast. And I am exhausted. My blood alcohol content probably still exceeds the legal limit.

I was in a city that I call home with people that I love. I never wanted it to end. My liver and my bank account begged to differ.

It took me hours to peel myself away. I stopped at all of my little haunts, took pictures, picked up real estate magazines, da paper, drove around. I begrudgingly made it back to my home now, in Alabama, and felt again like I had left a huge piece of me somewhere along the Gulf Coast that I love. All the way back I kept thinking, I am going too far from home. Stop. Stop. But when I got here and got my doggies, I felt ok again. For a while.

For four days I knew where I was and it felt like I belonged. And now, I’m drifting again.

But towards what?

Over the holiday weekend I was feeling pretty good. Damn good, in fact. I’m not sure if it was the return of football, the amazing weather, time with friends, good things at work or just a combination of all of them, but it all came together and bada bing bada boom, it was Kimtastic.

I even tweeted and made it my Facebook status.

My friends were supportive and happy for me, but someone on Facebook, who I also see in real life, said “So I guess you’re pretty much over all that now I guess?”

Uhm, no.

Just because I have a pure moment of happiness and I decide to share it doesn’t mean I’m “pretty much over it.”

I’ll never “be over” my husband dying from a stupid accident anymore than I’ll be over my daddy dying from cancer.

I’m still grieving, still hurting. I just think that I’ve moved into another stage of it, one where I can be happy because I know Gregory would want me to be.

There are still moments when I hear a song or see something that makes me feel his presence so strongly that I can’t do anything but lay down on the floor and cry. Then there are the other times, when things make me smile and laugh because I know how much he would have enjoyed what made me happy too. And I know that both of these things will continue to happen as long as I am still on this earth.

Others who have been down this path have told me many times that days like these would come, and they have. Days when I can’t stop smiling, when my memories are filled with his smile and the sound of his voice. The other days they told me about have come too, the ones where I can’t get out of bed because all I can do is stare at his urn and wonder if I could have changed things, playing the “What if” game with myself. I call it bipolar grief. I never know what side of it I’ll wake to each morning.

I do know that I start my days, good or bad, with him near me. His spirit and love still live inside me, I touch the urn that holds his earthly remains several times a day, and I know that somewhere, he’s smiling at me.

And if that makes me crazy because it makes me happy, someone better call Nurse Ratched.

Cause I’ll be smiling back.

The Fourth of July is a pretty big deal in our family. We have gathered with each other and friends at Lake Mitchell and at each other’s homes for as long as I can remember. I’ve spent one 4th away from my family and the lake and I hope that it never happens again. There is too much love, fun, food and friends to miss …. especially now as I look around and see so many that we love that aren’t here to enjoy it with us. We keep living though, and we honor their memory while we celebrate our family …..here’s the story of this year….

On Friday we hit the road, headed to the lake ….. and happiness ensued …..

Traffic was light and by 1pm I was settled in ……

The weather ? Perfect …..

The company was even better ….

Amazing mornings …..

Colorful nights …..

Good food prepared by good men (and women!) …..

And lots of it …..

naps ….

Games  …

Lots of swimming ….

Boats ….

Boat drinks ….

New babies …

Of all kinds…..

Curious little girls ….

Smiles …..

A cousin home from Nashville ….

Good times to celebrate the red, white and blue ……

And family and friends ….

I can’t think of a better way to spend my time.

Hope y’all had an amazing holiday weekend too.