Twenty-two Days Later

Apparently it has been 22 days since I last blogged. If I’ve been in a coma, nobody bothered to tell me about it.

Actually, trying to write something good and entertaining every day had begun to drag on me. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy writing, I seem to enjoy it very much, but rather that the habit of forcing myself into a daily hour-long solitude for the writing process kind of backed up my system and my brain came to a stand still.

And then I received a call from my mother. More accurately, I missed a call from her and when I called her back, she presented me with a question. “Why aren’t you blogging any more?” I could hear the angst in her voice, the quiver of pain that laced every word. It was as though I, her own son, had abandoned her in lieu of other worldly pleasures. What was a good son to do?

While that answer may vary from son to son, I am quite obviously now sitting in my study racking my brain for some verse worthy of my mother’s attention and love.

You would think that with a 22 day hiatus, I would be ‘fair teeming’ with ideas, yet over that span of days, I have had very few coherent thoughts and even less worthy of public consumption. I have previously stated that I have little desire for my blog to become a daily collection of my childrens’ achievements, wonders and blunders; I would much rather pepper in some completely random thoughts and ideas that occasionally bombard my fragile psyche. That being said, I have a few achievements, wonders and blunders to share with the world.

In the last week and a half, our little boy, who is currently talking in bed rather than sleeping, has developed an independent side. While he has always shown the fine quality of being able to act upon his own whims, instead of those of his parents, he has now developed a stubbornness for self sufficiency. This first manifested itself in the car. One day while buckling him into his seat, he inflexibly demanded, “I do it myself!” While Daddy has no problem lending him the more than occasional liberty, there are some times when haste is a virtue, one almost exclusively absent in a two year old. His reaction to my ‘No, sorry buddy, Daddy’s going to do it this time,’ has ranged from silent cooperation to full-blown tantrums. Fortunately for me, I really don’t care if he always gets his way and in fact occasionally go out of my way to make sure he doesn’t! I figure that he has to learn sometimes that what he wants will not always to be served to him on some sort of silver platter.

Please disregard the previous two sentences . . .

Please correct the three following sentences for grammar and spelling . . .

Me other child, the gyrl, be growing steadily. She be more then twice her weight original was. Her vary kute!

Please correct the author’s general mental state . . .

See, that’s exactly what I was writing about. While I did not check at which time I began this blog, my wandering words hint that I must be once again pushing the hour mark. I believe what would be best for me and my (ahem) loyal readers is some sort of agreement where I need not force myself to spew forth synaptic garbage on a daily basis, but rather allow myself to simply breathe for days at a time, that most enjoyable habit being occasionally broken by thoughts passing through my fingertips. I guess, then, that your end of the bargain would be to occasionally check back here (or on Facebook) to see if anything remotely interesting has been posted. (Does anybody know how the ‘Follow this Blog’ feature works? Does it notify your email when I post? Randy? Anybody??)

Some time ago, I passed the bottom of page one and began page two. This is usually the sign that my words have carried themselves too far for the average American attention span and that I should either wrap everything up, or at least end with some form of punctuation.

Today I will end with a bonus question:

Five points to anybody who can name the movie from which my paragraph five quote, ‘fair teeming’ is from.

Fifteen points to anyone who can name the book from which the quote was originally taken and thirty five points to the rare soul who can name the character for whom the line was originally intended (as the movie gave it to another character).

Proof Positive: I Have Too Much Free Time

Mike's Hand-Made Chainmail Shirt

aproximately 10,000+ rings

weighs about 12 pounds