Uh, I'm back.

Well, this is awkward. I guess the "pithy posting" idea didn't really work. But I'm now back, to the blog and to my life-in-limbo.

My family's deadline for making big, life-altering decisions approaches, and we are no closer to clarity than we were a year ago. My new plan for this blog is to use it to think through what's really at stake in staying here vs. going back.

Here, as I see it, are the questions that need answering: How do I really feel about giving up my job and perhaps my academic career so my husband can pursue his? What would this do to my sense of self? To our family life? Do I really care as much about my career as he cares about his? Might this be the right time for me to return to my previous career, which was always more fun for me if less rewarding financially? Is that even a possibility?

And do I want to raise my kid in a small town that is almost entirely white and middle class, but has good public schools--whatever that means--and is safe, full of fun stuff for kids to do, and a half day's drive from a number of big interesting cities? As opposed to sending her to the culturally rich, ethnically diverse (economically, not so much), progressive town that beckons us back, where the public schools are hurting, traffic is so bad that it can take a half day to get to the nearby big city, etc. etc.? [Note to self: don't list all your questions at once, if you want to continue breathing.]

For most of the last year, we told ourselves we were for sure going to return. (I mean, really, who wouldn't?) But in just the last couple of weeks this "middle of nowhere" has started to seem much less isolated, and more inviting. For one thing, it's summer and this place comes alive in the summer with cultural activities, some of them directly related to the "previous career" I'm apparently not ready to divulge just yet. (As if I haven't aleady given enough away to be recognized by anyone who knows me irl AND happens to find this buried blog.)

And then there are the friends we suddenly seem to have made. Back in the hip metropolis where a house and (my) job await, we have many acquaintances and some family, but almost no real friends. I'm talking about the kind that you regularly get together with for dinner, that you can drop in on unannounced, that you don't feel you have to clean the house for, that share your politics. Friends are a good thing.

And it's certainly making a difference to my well being that I've decided to keep toddler girl (I need to come up with a nickname) home for a while, before carting her back off to daycare. Which means, I'm taking a break from my "work," aka, "the book," and it scares me how little I miss it. I couldn't have done this back home, where we need two full-time salaries to pay our mortgage.

Maybe, just maybe, my difficulty getting motivated to work on this book isn't just about my being neurotic and insecure and lazy. Maybe (dare I say it) the book doesn't need to be written. Or I'm not the one who needs to write it.

Whew. I need a nap.