I probably should never, ever stop blogging.
I haven’t been around as much as usual, and it’s been fun. I’ve basked in the sun, melted in the over 100 degree heat, cursed the sun, retreated into my house and painted my toenails gold…the point is, I think I’ve come full circle.
It’s almost September, time for school, time for blogging.
In the mean time, I’ve noticed mildly disturbing trend that happens when I’m not using my spare time to blather on my blog. I have adopted various hobbies and activities to fill the empty space I should be using to, oh…fold socks.
I promise you, I take Internet breaks with the full intention of organizing my Tupperware, but then I think about all those missing lids and decide to adopt a Great Dane puppy instead.
|My tiny puppy, pretending to drive|
Do you see a minor issue?
So now I’m shoveling number 2…a lot. Not to mention having to buy exotic things like ANTLERS on Amazon. I don’t mind exactly, she’s a sweet dog. But I have to wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t stopped writing. The boys have started preschool, giving me more free time than I ever dreamed of having, and before they started I had big plans to have a labeled linen closet that would make Better Homes and Gardens cry.
I made it one day. One. I organized the baby’s room. Then I suddenly decided to forget about sorting through onesies and decided to plan a Halloween party.
Now here I am, planning a Murder Mystery party set in the 1920’s…for 50 people…at my house.
I am very excited, by which I mean I have been meticulously hand lettering tiny labels for tiny bottles of gin for party favors. And I have been casting everyone I know and telling them to dress like a gangster with a pinky ring. And I have been obsessively looking at pinterest and all other Internet forms of crack for 1920’s stuff. And calling people to ask if they have any wine barrels I can borrow (you KNOW, for tables)
After days and days of obsessing over the 1920’s fashion and slang and assigning my friends names like, “Rebecca Ravioli”, I went to get a hair cut. Guess what sort of hair cut?
|I just need red lipstick and I’m Clara Bow|
So the point is, life imitates art, and if you aren’t filling your extra time with art, you better really enjoy darning socks and dusting or you might end up with a Great Dane and a giant dress up party.
And basically I’m just writing this post to ward of any new exciting adventures my brain will think up in lieu of laundry.