I think it may be. I think I am as caught up as I will ever be. No not on housework, duh, not on the garden and not on much of anything but blog reading. ‘Cept that I hear there are a few new blogs out there that I ought to read and so off I go this morning to do just that and (this is an important and mind you) not fall behind on the ones I already have in the gun.
But along with not caught up on the ever present housework (please don’t bother to send me organization tips, I am a whiz at organizing, maintenance is my issue. And don’t send me maintenance tips, I know how, I just find I would rather walk out the door with my work gloves and hat on instead, well until company starts driving down the driveway. And no berating, “you ought to be better” speeches or “I’m watching you!” talks ’cause then I’ll just pack my bags and go elsewhere to write) and not caught up with the gardening (that whole thing Dirt would boil down to biting off a bigger piece than can be chewed and swallowed) I am not caught up with web logging.
I have succumbed to the “I started a journal and now I am not journal-ing” syndrome once again. This time I did get farther than on paper (on paper I never got past one month let alone a whole year!) and I did continue in my slump though not daily. So in typical Lanny journal-ing fashion I feel, for my own purposes really, that I ought to back track, lest in a year or two I forget what the heck happened to me. In three years I might be liable to look back on this time and make up a story about being in a car crash or in the hospital or traveling around the world where there was no Internet connection, if I don’t put down what the heck we’ve been up to.
So the next few days I hope to be slopping a lot more ketchup on myself in the web logging department and I have no idea what that is going to look like. But please Dear Reader, don’t feel like you need to read all of it. It will just be a lot of old junk that probably ought to be thrown out but I want to get it logged down so that if it was good I do it again and if it was a mistake I hopefully will avoid it in the future, ’cause the only thing I remember well are phone numbers. Bad ideas repeat themselves often around here.
I will be writing quick and dirty (hope mom is on the other side of heaven watching one of her other children, they’re so cute!) so if you already are holding your nose at the awful stench of horrifying spelling and grammar, ridiculous use of commas and, for crying out loud, all those blasted parenthesis I use, it will only get worse for a while not better.
Quite frankly you can blame it on college writing classes, they foolishly taught this girl “stream of conscious” writing and she has been using it ever since, well her own brand of it ’cause I’m sure it had rules too I just forgot them. Now that girl is an old lady and she can’t stop and besides why should she, she is too old to become the writer that she thought she would so she will settle to be the writer she is. Horrible. But with cute pictures. Well there would be cute pictures if I would just sit and clean them up and post them along with all this yapping.
So you have been warned Dear Reader, I appreciate you too much to subject you to my quick and nasty writing, the worked over stuff is already far beyond what I would imagine anyone would bother to read.
Now for some coffee. (and no I don’t belive my mom is really up there in heaven spying on me, it is just a silly cultural joke that I like to perpetuate every once in a while especially after being at a women’s group and getting the smack down for being mean and saying that heaven is not what we think it will be, we will not be going up to heaven to ride the horse your dad never bought you or raft the Colorado River like you always wished you could before you had hip surgery. We will be up there in the in-your-face presence of God, nothing else will matter, really, it won’t. And if you think that will be too boring, a lot like going to church, you’re in the wrong church, better yet quit going to church altogether and just be church like God asked you to be.) Now for some coffee.
