Thursday, August 11, 2011
The door is a jar.
Remember back in the day? When I would write nearly every day? About whatever silly things had happened to me that day? Or whatever I learned in school? Yeah, me either.It really is a pity I can't write about my husband's work. Talk about a mostly endless supply of bloggable material. Oh! Hmm. Perhaps I can! In time. We shall see. But you'd need user IDs and passwords and stuff. Please raise your hand if you'd be willing to do that in order to read mostly uncensored accounts of Superman's job. The thing is, when your job consists of doing mostly the same things over and over again, day in and day out, as mine does, it's kind of... monotonous. True, there are wonderful (and hilarious, if I'm lucky) bright spots and hopefully if I do my job right I'll have two beautiful, full-grown, well-adjusted people to marvel at... but... that'll take a while. I mean you can go ahead and marvel now (and I do, believe me, I do) but there's lots that still needs work. On both me AND them. As soon as the term "mommy blogger" came into use I determined to never be ONLY one of those. I've been blogging long before I had kids or was married, even. But I suppose the term does apply, at least some of the time, to me now. Oh guess what! I walked into a door today! I really did. I turned to leave the room almost as soon as I entered but the door had drifted closed slightly and WAS where it WASN'T just seconds earlier and so I slammed the side of my face into it like the intelligent blonde I am (or was.) Riveting material, this. Maybe it'll get better as I go.