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I’m sitting on my couch reading your comments and marveling in your pleas for me to stick around. I’m floored.
I mention this to my husband, and he informs me that I am a LIAR, LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE and will not, in actuality, be able to stop blogging for an entire month.
He might be right.
I did say the minute I hit publish I would regret it, no?
But I AM taking a break. I just don’t know if setting a goal for an entire month was all that realistic.
So maybe I’ll see you next week? Or the week after that?
I’m off to find a fire extinguisher for my pants.
I need blogging break.
I’ve been struggling with this decision for a while, because part of me thinks the minute I hit Publish on this post, I’m going to regret it. I’ll come crawling back to the interwebs begging you to take me back.
But there’s another part of me that thinks this is a good decision. Not an end, just a break. A few weeks without the self-imposed pressure of writing a blog post. Because, I’m tired. I’m tired of being told that my writing is going downhill, or that I’m boring. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, it’s more like I just don’t feel like saying it right now.
I started blogging because I wanted a writing outlet. I stuck with blogging because from within the pages of These Little Moments developed an amazingly supportive and awesome community. But now, I’m not sure who I’m writing for anymore…you, or me?
The break will be one month-long. On December 17th I will return, either for good, or to say goodbye. In the meantime, maybe I’ll go write somewhere anonymously, or break out that thing we used to call a journal and use a pen.
I hope that those of you who have made These Little Moments what it is will come back in a month. Because I really do love you guys. And please keep writing, because I’ll be out there, reading you.
Yesterday I decided to make microwave popcorn. Simple, right? We’ve all done it before. I had a craving for it when I was grocery shopping so I picked up a box of Newman’s Own Light Butter and headed home.
When it was popcorn o’clock, I opened up the bag, and looked to see how long I should microwave it. I couldn’t find it. Not on the bag, not on the box, nowhere.
Instead, there was some message on the packaging about how all microwaves heat at different temperatures, so I should refer to my manual, or use the Popcorn button.
Well, here’s the thing. Our microwave is older and it doesn’t have a Popcorn button. And find the manual? For popcorn? Meh.
The last thing I wanted to do was burn the popcorn, but it’s a really tricky science, you know? Cook it to little and you end up with a bag half filled with kernels, but cook it too long and it’s charcoal city. Neither seemed appealing.
So I did the only thing I could do. Stood in front of the microwave and cooked that popcorn in 30-second intervals until I was pretty sure I had gotten it right.
I didn’t. I ended up with a lot of kernels, but I think it’s a success non the less since kernels are better than charcoal.
I then proceeded to eat the whole bag.
Yes, you really did just read a post about me microwaving a bag of popcorn. I hope your day is just a little bit better for it.
Because I don’t feel like waiting for Friday.
Kodiak loves his Dad.
In fourth grade I proudly wore my favorite outfit to school. It was a red and white striped boatneck top with a matching skirt and attached black bike shorts. I thought it was the most awesome fashion invention since puff paint and snap bracelets.
I put effort into dressing up that day. I brushed my hair. I picked out my matching scrunch socks. My Keds were white as snow.
My enjoyment over that outfit lasted approximately two hours, before a boy in my class — Aaron — asked me why my legs looked shiny. My legs looked shiny? I didn’t know. I didn’t make them look shiny on purpose.
But the mere fact that my legs looked shiny gave Aaron enough ammunition to completely mortify my 9-year old self.
He told everyone I shaved my legs.
Shaved my legs!! Can you imagine? Why would I ever do such a thing, I argued. I don’t shave my legs! Shaving is weird! I didn’t! I swear!
It didn’t matter what I said. By the end of the day the whole class thought I was shaving my legs, and it was enough for me to put that outfit, my wonderful red and white striped boatneck and matching skirt with attached bike shorts outfit in the back of my closet, never to see the light of day again. Because, ugh, SHAVING. How WEIRD.
(To be fair, 9-year old me also thought regular hair and tooth brushing were optional.)
This morning, Facebook “suggested” I become friends with Aaron. I’m thinking of taking a picture of my three (ok, four) days unshaven leg (umm…it’s cold out? And…I’m wearing a lot of pants?) and sending it to him with my friend request.
“Remember me? The LEG SHAVER? How do you like me now?!”
I went with my friend on Halloween night to take her younger brother and his friends trick-or-treating. Along the way, I noticed some things:
- If you’re 1o years old and want to dress as a pirate, dress as a pirate. But not a sexy pirate. There’s no reason you should be wearing fishnets and knee high boots with no jacket and a lot of skin showing. (On a side note: why are these costumes even being made for kids??)
- If you’re wearing those knee high boots, your feet are going to hurt. And no, you may not leave the group by yourself in the dark and go home to change. You’ll wait until we go back together and maybe you’ll remember to wear sneakers next year.
- It’s customary to say “trick-or-treat!” when you ring the doorbell, not just hold open your bag of candy. And what ever happened to saying “thank you”?!
- If the house looks dark, no one is home. If the porch light is out, even if they’re home, they’re not answering the door. Do not knock on their window, please.
- “Please take one” means please take ONE. Not four.
- If you’re old enough to drive yourself from house to house, you’re too old to trick-or-treat.