I guess I need to address the proverbial elephant (or in this case, Jack Russell terrier wearing a silk smoking jacket and tapping his paw impatiently) in the room.
No less than 174 of you noticed that my blog posts containing every detail of my Spinster romance have been removed and that I have studiously avoided the topic for a whole 48 hours now.
As much as I would love to tell you that this is the result of some catastrophic break-up and I am now awoman scorned and looking for a bunny to boil, the truth is that Stewey (in the form of a dream/vision) is to blame.
There he was...smelling of baby shampoo and tsk-tsking over his evening sherry.
"Mo-ther. While I am somewhat comforted by the idea that you are not left to your own devices down there, I need to remind you that your real life is not a romantic comedy and you look nothing like Meg Ryan. And, although I highly approve of your new addition of a mate, you...my dear...are not a character in some crazy performance. You are a real live person who has now decided to have a full blown relationship with another real live person. And, while I completely understand that your daily drivel is your way of engaging with the world and it literally and figuratively saved your life, you should keep at least one small detail of your new life between you and your new beaux. I suspect that he is just too damn polite to say so, but you blathering every detail of this to the world (or the seven people who read your blog) is indeed a very serious violation of what should be private and personal between you."
With that, he whipped out a large manilla folder from his little valise and reminded me that things become a lot less fun once the lawyers get involved. (You might remember that Stewey employed an entire team of legal professionals and public relations specialists to keep my shenanagins at bay, and this folder and its contents reminded me of that fact.)
So, dear friends. My Jersey Boy is still here. He has not broken my heart and continues to be my dream come true in every way. But, if you'll allow, I'm going to get back to the business of stitching and bumble-clucking my way through my quiet little life and sharing THAT with you, while keeping "Rich and Coni Happily Ever After" to myself.
But I promise you...the very minute something catastrophic or wonderful happens you will all be the first to know.