That’s it. I’m out. Like, out out. Out of here. Gone! I keep threatening to run away to Mexico. Daily. Sometimes every hour on the hour, because they say it’s important — essential, really — to be consistent when raising kids, so I consistently mention my plans for Mexico; a beach, the water, a coconut drink in my hand, and my ass in the sand, as the Zac Brown Band so eloquently put it. It’s just… this time I mean it. I’m out.

Greg and I are headed to Mexico tomorrow, and we’ll be away for a week and a half, which is a thing we’ve never done, not ever, since we tend to prioritize frugality over time away. But we need a break, and we need some time, and we need to quit crediting “nodding to each other when we pass in the hall” as our Grandest Romantic Gesture. Enter a killer vacation deal and some significant help from the grandparents (thank you, grandparents!), and we fly away tomorrow.

The other (secret… shhhh) reason we’re leaving is so I can spend some quality time with the book proposal I keep promising (and not delivering to) my literary agent. I haven’t done a good job of keeping you in the loop on book progress, which is fair since I haven’t done a good job of keeping myself in the loop, either. The truth is, I sent a meticulously crafted and complete book proposal to my agent last fall and promptly rescinded it 20 minutes later because I realized after pushing “send” that it wasn’t the book I really want to write for us and that the book in my heart is weirder and wilder, more messy and magical, than the structured proposal that made marketing sense. So pfftttt. Here we are; proposal-less. My aim during this time away is to rest, yes, but also to dig deep and loose chains and enter the vulnerable places where the wild and weird and wacky play, and to write a proposal that beckons us closer to the Village and each other and our truest truths, whether they’re fanged or mangled or majestic or mysterious. Pray for me, if you will, or send good thoughts and fervent wishes if that’s more your style. I want so desperately to represent us well and to write something terribly, triumphantly real. 

In the meantime, from April 8-18, I’ve asked some friends whose hearts I trust to participate in what I’m calling The Authenticity Project. Their goal? To guest post in this space and to share something true. I gave these folks very loose parameters — no word count, no guidelines, no rules to follow — and I asked them to be free with what’s real for them these days or in days gone by, whether that reality is thoughtful or funny or poignant or ridiculous. I hope you enjoy meeting these people as much as I enjoy counting them among my friends.

Be back soon.

With love,