But my number one fan has waited so patiently (like a fox), I figured I could throw her a bone. (If you clicked that link, and it wasn't you, and you thought it would be, just remember that YOU probably didn't come all the way from Washington to put yourself in a situation where scorpions fall on your head, just to buy me lunch. If you'd like to apply for the position of number one fan, please put yourself in mortal danger, buy me a grilled cheese, and then submit a resume. Thanks.)
Eric is going to school full-time now, while also working a full-time job. This gives me a lot of Me time, which I'm really bad at. I tend to spend 70% of Me Time wringing my hands and wondering if the sky is falling, will fall, or already did. The other 30% of Me Time is spent trying to remove cookie crumbs from under the space bar. It's a bad place to be in. So, I recently decided to attempt spending at least 15% of that time on writing that book I always wanted to write.
That's where I've been. I have written a whole chapter that I hate. It's not been the most productive month of my life. But I'm pretty sure I'm not ready to quit just yet.
So blogging took a back seat. I'm willing to change things up though, especially when they aren't really working in the first place, and so, every so often, I will let my blog come up front, sit on my lap, and pretend to steer and play with the radio buttons while I'm in park. You are welcome, number one fan.
To Fan number Two through Six: I'm sorry that I suck. When you start to really hate me, just go back and read this post again, and maybe we can be on speaking terms. Dance Moms is a new show on Lifetime that I started watching last week, and Lennon's dolls are itching to get on camera again... just saying, maybe you want to check in every so often.