It occurred to me recently that I have been sleeping for a long time. The last seventeen years were about my parents: either being with, worrying about, or grieving for. Before that, The Boy.
Remember my "Frustration" post? Well, that old fisherman friend referred to in the post has lit a fire under this Scandinavian/Scots-Irish arse and I'm hell bent on finding that adventurous girl I used to be.
I've joined a gym; I'm doing a session with a "love your body" coach next week. When I'm in kickboxing class (which I LOVE), that Astrid is front and center.
My raven tattoo (finished a year ago this month) heralded the return of the warriorpoet. The beserker. The woad-painted Pict.
Look out world - I'm awake. And I'm coming.