Ok, so I’m a terrible blogger. I took Christmas week off, for the most part, because I didn’t really have much to write about. You know, because I was shame-eating cheese like I was being paid to do so. And it has become like anything else. You can run everyday for 6 months and then take a week off and then when someone asks you if you want to go for a run with them you say, “I know I should go for a run, but these Triscuits are just so inviting and there is a Sister Wives marathon on TV. So….. maybe tomorrow.”
This has been the last few days for me.
ME to MYSELF: You should blog today. It’s New Year’s Day. You should post all of the funny Tard the Grumpy Cat and Colonel Meow memes you’ve found this year.
MYSELF TO ME: But I don’t waaaaaant to. Sister Wives is on right now.
ME to MYSELF: Dammit. You’re a slob. You need to put some real clothes on, Captain Sweatpants, and address your readers. Write about your holiday. Holy shit, she’s pregnant!?!?
MYSELF to ME: I’m not sure. I think she is. And the other wives look kind of conflicted about it.
ME to MYSELF: Move over. And pass the chips, lazy-ass.
Ok, so if my grandmother is correct, it’s not crazy if you talk to yourself. It’s only crazy if you answer yourself. So I’m clearly not crazy. ….Wait. Well, shit, kittens. Crazytown, party of one.
I used to go through my day looking for blog posts. “What? You thought I said I wanted “cream cheese” on my pizza? No! I said I wanted “anchovies, please” but with my mouth full. Silly stoners who work at the Mellow Mushroom. What kind of a lunatic asks for cream cheese on a pizza?”
Do NOT answer that.
It even got so bad that I would provoke Carter down odd avenues of conversation so that I could blog about it the next day. It’s not that the conversation wasn’t authentic and didn’t actually happen. Because they all do. Verbatim. But I may have started some of them.
Ask any blogger, my friends, and they will tell you that if they are trying to do the “I blog every day because it creates good habits” thing, that they are ALWAYS looking for material. Carter and I both have notepad sections on our phones called “BLOG IDEAS.” And we add to them.
Like the other day, for example…
Picture it: I’m driving the rental car, Carter’s riding shotgun. We are on our way to my parents’ house (3 states away) for second Christmas. It is snowing heavily and the wind is blowing the snow directly against our path. Carter screams…
ME: Don’t tell me that! I hate seeing puppies that have been hit on the highway! It makes me so sad!
CARTER: No! It’s a real puppy! And how f*cking morbid are you?
ME: Puppy! Let’s turn around and go get him!
ME: But you didn’t get me a puppy for Christmas when I specifically asked for one. So much for your vow to make all my dreams come true.
CARTER: That was not in my vows, FYI. I know better than to promise you that in a church. Some of your dreams are ridiculous.
ME: I want that puppy real bad, Bird! I’m turning around and we’re rescuing it!
CARTER: No, we’re not. Besides, it probably has owners looking for it. I want a puppy too. But when we get one, I want to actually pick it out and bond with it, a puppy that has had its shots. I don’t want to pick a dog up off the side of the road and take it home.
ME: Amy did it.
CARTER: Who’s Amy?
ME: I swear to God that you never listen when I talk about anything. Amy is my blog friend and friend from real life, too. She picked up a puppy on the highway. Her name is Charlie.
CARTER: I thought you said her name was Amy.
ME: Sometimes I hate you.
CARTER: Ok, well, just because it was the right decision for Amy doesn’t mean it’s the right decision for us.
ME: You suck the fun out of my life. Have I ever told you that?
CARTER: Nearly every day, dear.
ME: I want a f*cking puppy, Bird.
CARTER: And I want a man cave.
ME: If you let me get a puppy, I’ll let you turn the entire apartment into your man cave. All 14 square feet of it.
CARTER: Tempting. But no.
ME: I’m so blogging about this.
CARTER: Go ahead. Everyone will agree with me.
ME: Bet they won’t. I bet they’ll be on my side. Especially Amy and Charlie. And I bet they’ll all be mailing us puppies. And then you’ll be sorry!
CARTER: Go right ahead, Bunny.
ME: [After a long pause] Um… Bird? Can you make a note about this argument in the Blog Ideas file so that I don’t forget about it?
CARTER: It’s only eternity, self. You can get through this, self.
I’m sure he will, too.
But I’m back for good, kittens. And I’m here to stay. Taking a week off actually added more stress in the long run, I think, because I kept wondering what Amy, Anna, Bev, Chris, Vikki, and Terri were up to, or how some of my blog-friends – Jenn, Kelly, akl, Sherry, and Lady C – and their kids were doing, or how my friends across the pond – Loki-Lou, Sleepy Joe, Sabrina, and Larissa (Different country counts as across the pond in this instance) – were faring. Maddening, I tell you! Never again.
Hopefully this new-found discipline and inspiration will take hold in my fitness regimen as well. Because I did the pencil test with my back fat last night. If I don’t get it under control, it will develop a mind of its own. Which, given my luck, it already has. It’s probably the mind of the twin that I absorbed in the womb that has slowly been plotting its revenge against me using its host, my back fat. In short, I’m doomed. (That apparently happens WAY more than you’d like to think. The absorbed twin thing. Not the evil mastermind back-fat thing. I have pregnant friends. I’m learning weird things.)
And now I’m thoroughly embarrassed and really want to delete that whole last paragraph. But I can’t.
Because I’m also putting into my new rule for writing which is to not constantly self-edit.
Clearly there are still a few bugs to work out.
But as it will take me a few days to get the ol’ “Look for Posts in Your Life Daily” muscles back in shape (Or all of my muscles, for that matter), I’d love to hear what you think I should write about on Nested.
Leave your suggestions in the comment box, please. Y’all are amaze-balls. (Thanks, Chris, for the new word! Carter hates you now because I’ve used it in nearly every sentence for the last two days.)