Why I'm not writing here

I should write more.

So why haven't I been writing here? I realize that I've been writing other places, like Twitter and Facebook and I have a lively email correspondence going with several different people. So, I HAVE been writing, just not here.

I feel guity, like I'm neglecting someone/something.

No I will not follow you

Today I received this note in my email box:

Angie Milhous (AngieMilhous) is now following your updates on Twitter.
Check out Angie Milhous's profile here:
http://twitter.com/AngieMilhous
You may follow Angie Milhous as well by clicking on the "follow" button.

But Angie, sorry to let you down like this babe, but I will not be following you. I won't follow you because you're not a real Twitterer and you cannot spell.

Birthday season has begun

The first birthday card arrived in the mail which means that my birthday season has officially begun.

I like cards. Gifts, not so much. Especially this year, when I am worried about having to pack and move (soon, I hope).

There is one gift I would appreciate. Your vote. Just get out there and do your duty. I'm not even going to tell you who to vote for. Just do it.

I don't know what to say

So I've been thinking about what I call this ... my situation. Most couples would say they are getting a divorce and then their friends and acquaintances would express sympathy or support or secretly speculate about whether an affair was involved.

Relatives would ask "how are the kids taking it" and then start asking the most personal of all question "how will you make out, you know, financially?"

My case is more complicated. "Breakup" is just not an adquate word. That's what I'd say if we'd been dating -- rather than sharing our entire lives for over 14 years. But since we're not married, divorce is not the proper term either.

Not that there isn't tons of paperwork and attorneys and notaries involved. We've had to change our wills and our medical powers of attorney. We've had to update our insurance beneficiaries. And then there's putting the house up for sale and (eventually) change of address forms.

And small things too. She had an extra key to my car. And I had CDs and books that she cherishes stashed among my things. And looming ahead is the big box of photographs from when people actually printed photos (instead of publishing them online) to go through.

So what do I call this? How do I answer questions? Change is hard, and sometimes there are no words for it.