Seriously. That's why I'm blogging again. My friends are getting a smidgen on the we-know-where-you-live-we-know-how-to-torture-you-we-know-how-to-get-rid-of-a-body-and-we-will-alibi-each-other-til-Doomsday side.
I can take a hint. Especially hints as subtle as 20 pound sledgehammers.
Who is actually surprised that it's been 6 months since my last post here? Anyone?
What have I been doing that's keeping me away from my blog?
*fidget*
Well...
We went to Guatemala and helped build a Bottle School. That was mildly AMAZING!
We stayed at the Venetian-Palazzo in Las Vegas for a week. That was pretty mind blowing, too.
We met up with and played with a few thousand friends just outside of Atlanta for a weekend.
I hung out with a pack of absolutely BATTY friends for a long weekend in Dallas.
I took over the volunteer end of the FUEL program at the church I attend.
I've been working with my husband to build a business we both love and believe in.
I agreed to let my two youngest children join Girl Scouts and Tiger Scouts.
I agreed to let my older daughter add "a few" extracurricular activities to her schedule. *twitch*
I stitched a few things.
I read a book or two.
I managed to not strangle any of my offspring.
I managed to not strangle any of my furbabies.
I managed to avoid being strangled by my husband.
What time has been left over has either been obliterated on Facebook games or spent diving headfirst into the world of Supernatural and Criminal Minds courtesy of Netflix.
Oh, don't get me wrong! I have all sorts of delusions of accomplishment in the near future!!
I'm working on learning some semblance of the Spanish language for our next trip to Guatemala.
I'm working on ambushing some poor soul to teach me how to write code for a virtual scrapbook that can be loaded onto a CD or DVD and installed onto another computer with functional links to this image or that page, etc etc.
I'm working on getting my house to look like a home instead of the aftermath of a tornado ravaging a Goodwill warehouse.
I'm working on making my flowerbed flood proof and making my weedbed extinct.
I'm working on convincing my scale and my reflection that I really-honestly-truly-swear-to-God weigh 105 pounds and wear size 3 clothes.
I'm working on convincing my body that the daily exercise is not in violation of any of the Geneva Convention and will continue until my scale and reflection believe that I do, in fact, weigh 105 pounds and wear size 3 clothes. (Yes, I do realize I'll be exercising until the day I keel over and drown in my own sweat. Thank you for pointing this out. Again.)
So you see, I've been keeping myself occupied pretty steadily in hopes of keeping myself out of trouble.
Well, at least out of trouble that could land me on the 6:00 news.
Here's the thing...
You know that person you can just look at and immediately tell that spending any time at all with them is going to result in a whole bunch of the above mentioned trouble?
That person that every normal member of society shakes their collective heads at and often wonders which mental institution they escaped from and just how many different kinds of happy pills they're supposed to be taking?
Yeah. That person.
Well, I surround myself with as many of them as I can find.
For several reasons:
~They're fun.
~They can laugh at themselves because they understand that everyone gets laughed at and they might as well get some enjoyment out of the mockery too!
~They can't be bothered with being Politically Correct because, honestly, who has the energy to be offended by every syllable uttered by every other living creature in the cosmos??
~They find humor in just about any situation because no matter how serious you take life you're not getting out of it alive, anyway.
~They're nearly impossible to offend in any way, shape, or form.
~They make me seem minutely normal. Sorta. Once in awhile.
But mostly I surround myself with these people because no one else will let me hang out with them!
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