Fluffing the Pillows of Neglect.

It has been so long since I have blogged, that it is quite possible that I am simply typing into a deep and empty abyss, void of any captive eyes and ears, within the World Wide Web. Awe, it sounds so pathetic and hopeless when I put it like that, but like my grandpa always says, “You make your bed, and then you’ve gotta lay in it." He's got a quotable quote like that for just about every situation. Some are more, ahem, "colorful" than others; when refering to something with a foul odor, he says "it could knock a buzzard off a gut wagon." He's an eloquent man. So, before I wallow in this poorly maintained bed of sparse bloggage, let me air out my proverbial sheets by giving you all a list of perfectly legitimate excuses:

First up is school. I go to classes online, and set my own schedule for the most part. This often means that I wait until the end of the semester, and do a crap-load of assignments at once. Neat, huh? Not really. I like to say that I simply work better under pressure, but I really don’t know, because I’ve never tried it the other way. I made it though, and “no more pencils, no more boo-ooks…” until August.

Next, not to be dramatic or anything, but I did give birth to an 8 and half pound punk rocker in April. He is great, I am great, but the months leading up to debut of "El Duderito" were, for lack of a better phrase, the epitome of suck. Because I love you all, I decided to spare you the rage-filled, hormonally-amplified editorials detailing the exciting world of high-risk pregnancy that I was compelled to share. It was all worth it, of course, and K is infatuated with her little bro (mommy and daddy are pretty pleased with him, too).

Also in the sphere of parenthood, I am in the midst of potty-training K. As a result of the exponential increase in dirty diapers since Baby E's arrival, I’ve considered changing my title to Countess Poopetta Doodiesmith of the Crapchester Manor. It sounds impossible, but I estimate that I spend about one fifth of my day dealing with the southern ends of my children. I’m quite certain that I could have a Doctorate in Dungology, if I could find a school that offered it as a major. Needless to say, it’s time to get K into big girl panties permanently, and the transition has been pretty tedious.

There are also my sewing projects, both current and potential, that have halted my writing for the moment. I recently got a dress-form (yessss), and I am trying to get everything ready to do some new stuff with it. Can I get a whut-whut for fabric arts? ... Anybody?

Finally, I’ve been having fun, people! I just celebrated my 26^th birthday, and it was pretty much a week long event. Great times were had at various restaurants and watering holes about the area, and an undisclosed rooftop in mid-town. For those of you who gave me food, drinks, birthday wishes, etc; it was all thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated!

Maybe I’ll blog about some of these events in detail later, but this one is just about excuses. So here’s another topic that has the potential of becoming a future excuse for my minimal bloggage: HBO’s summer line-up! Not even mentioning the series finale of The Sopranos this Sunday, there are a TON of new shows which reaffirm my belief that it is totally worth putting off important stuff to watch TV! Anybody seen the previews for John from Cincinnati? That crap looks awesome! Annnnd, Flight of the Concords got their own series?!? Frikken A! This extra workload may force my Tivo into a union for media recording devices; it's bad enough that my Ipod won’t even speak to me without a mediator present.

Keep checkin’ in folks, hopefully all of this external stimuli will inspire me to write an entertaining little nugget for your reading pleasure. Until then, I suggest you all watch reruns of Scrubs; that Zach Braff is a funny guy…

RD