I read about the latest blogger happy hour in my former city and my appetite was whet again. I didn’t mean to stop writing. I can’t say it was an accident, really. By “not actively preventing”, my husband and I conceived within 5 days of my last post (educated guess and women’s intuition being the pinpoints). Since then, I have carried my developing baby genius 120,000 miles around the country in 7 months for work and the sheer exhaustion has limited my creative juices. In fact, my imagination is still barricaded by the perpetual distraction of consulting and the little one doing somersaults in my now enormous tummy. I did, however, finally fly my last flight before the birth of my first bundle of joy. I have not entered an airport in 10 days; a bittersweet reminder that life as I once knew it is on the brink of phenomenal overhaul. There was precious little that I had to give up to move to Las Vegas, but without doctor-permitted access to the friendly skies and weekly visits east I am now obligated to forge my desert living and reminisce about what I have really left behind.