Based on the emails and messages and Facebook wall posts I’ve received lately, my little semi-hiatus from the Interweb (coupled with a case of writer’s block here) alarmed some people. I’m alive! And doing great! Promise!
So, what the hell have I been doing?
- Celebrating six months of marriage to my sweet husband
- Celebrating aforementioned sweet husband’s birthday with a fucking KICK-ASS party at a local wine bar. We’re talking customized wine flight with fancy cheeses, yo. If 23 year-old me knew that 33 year-old me would throw parties that didn’t involve Long Island Iced Teas…
- Slamming my finger in the side garage door. Screaming about the blood.
- Cutting the same finger while chopping an onion. Screaming about the blood.
- Spending a lot of time entertaining and throwing parties for our families
- Referring to my uterus as the Empty Womb of Shame in response to certain in-laws’ disappointment in my non-prego status, while simultaneously choking back AWESOME COMEBACKS to their questions about “trying” (which is just gross when you really think about it) and demands that I spawn boys LIKE I HAVE A GODDAMN CHOICE OR PREFERENCE I MEAN WHAT?
- Claiming Empty Womb of Shame as a potential future band name
- Spring cleaning and helping Ed with the plans for our backyard makeover