It’s Been A While, Let’s Have Coffee.

It’s been such a long time since I’ve done one of these posts—an If We Were Having Coffee post. The last one was in 2020. Six years ago. So much has happened in my life since then, and I haven’t really shared much, I don’t think. A few Facebook and Instagram posts over the years, but nothing in depth. I’m not even sure why I’m writing this now, except that since I’ve started my Apple A Day project, I’ve realized how much I miss the way I usually write and what I usually write about: my musings on life. Writing not caring about SEO scores, keywords, or Meta Descriptions. Just writing.

So, grab some coffee, a comfy chair, and let’s catch up.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding my Mild Cognitive Impairment from most people—except my husband. I think that’s part of why I haven’t written much. It’s hard to find words, string them together into complete sentences, and, mostly, it’s really hard to stay focused on any one task.

For instance, just this morning, I had one simple thing to do: water the plants. Instead, I did literally nine different things. When I finally sat down at my desk, I realized I hadn’t even taken the watering can out of the laundry room. I had switched the laundry from the washer to the dryer, which led me to hanging a picture (because I saw the hammer in the laundry room), which led me to emptying the dishwasher because there was a dirty cup in the sink I passed on the way to the picture. The picture is still sitting on the table, not hung. The list just goes on. Suffice it to say, the flowers didn’t get watered, nor did the picture get hung.

It’s exhausting—and that’s only the concentration piece. There are times when I hesitate so much when I speak that it sounds like I’m trying to translate from a different language in my head. I don’t speak another language (maybe a little Italian, but not really). I just often can’t find the words I need, so I end up being silent.

But enough of that.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that secretly (well, not so secret now) I’m starting to hate this cookbook project. I love to cook, but I don’t love to cook things I don’t think will be delicious. If you’re following along on my Apple Day series, be prepared for that to abruptly stop. I would much rather go back to what I’m good at: cooking and baking good food and writing from my heart. This forced writing and cooking is not fun for me.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you my sweet chickens are doing great. My daughter and her wife moved from Nashville to Asheville (which absolutely confuses my brain when I’m trying to remember where she lives), but if it was even possible, they seem even happier. My son and his wife moved out of their downtown Nashville apartment that was in the center of the city and into a quiet house in the “country”. They also seem to be where they belong and so happy.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I miss my sister Amanda every day. If there was anyone who would have been excited about the cooking project, it would have been her. She would have been so invested. It’s so hard for me to imagine that she’s gone. It’s even harder to believe that we are quickly approaching the one‑year anniversary.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you I finally crossed “going to Italy” off my bucket list, and it did not disappoint. The pizza was amazing, the seafood was fresh, and the company (my cousin) was perfect. Every time I leave for a trip, my husband always says, “Take a lot of pictures.” The reason is twofold: one, because vacation. But two, as previously stated, I have trouble with my memory, and sometimes if I don’t look at the pictures, I forget that I went—not the whole trip, just large chunks of it.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you not to worry about me. I’m fine. I have a ridiculously good life that single‑mom Gina couldn’t even imagine was possible. I have done so many things, been to so many places, and want for nothing. So don’t worry about me and my memory. I’m good. Life is good. My chickens are good. My husband is good.

If we were having coffee, I’d once again realize that I’ve monopolized the entire conversation and haven’t asked you a single question.

So tell me, friend—how are you? What’s new with you? How is your family?