Skip to main content

Lame Lame Lame

Well, I have heard from some of you -- and from YLM -- that I have been lame in not writing for nearly a month.

And I agree.

All I can tell you is that, well, I basically did one of my disappearing acts which when I was in my 20s would cause me to unplug my phone and not return calls for a week. My friends would think something had happened to me, and I would sit in my apartment and try to de-stress.

I did the equivalent, except that when you're married, and you have a child and full-time work that it's almost impossible to do that. But clearly I managed to avoid here.

Can't say that I have shed my stress coat, but I promise to at least and write more often. Nothing's lamer than a blogger who doesn't blog. I think I almost lost my membership.

Comments

Kate B. said…
You're not lame - I didn't say that! I was worried...
Anonymous said…
I just figured you were insanely busy and taking a much needed break. There may be nothing lamer than a non-blogging blogger, but we all seem to do it from time to time. Welcome back!

Popular posts from this blog

The Grim Reaper

Firstborn is obsessed with death. It started with the odd comment, such as; "Mummy, what happens when you die?" OK, I thought, I was expecting this at some point, what a cute little curious brain she has. So I trotted out all the cosy Heaven stuff and left out all the things that could worry her, such as worms and bones and holes in the ground. This went down pretty well, although somehow Firstborn made the jump from my view of Heaven (filled with love, joy, always warm, never rains, has a huge discount designer shoe outlet and I never have to pay my Visa bill) to her own view of Heaven; a wonderous place where small girls don't have to eat their vegetables before they're allowed pudding, and where Barbie dolls grow on trees. Anyway, I digress. Last week Firstborn started shouting "Kill! Kill!" in a bloodthirsty tone while bashing her hithero-beloved teddy against the wall. This was topped by her purposely flushing her favourite My Little Pony down the loo. ...

What Price Romance?

Let's talk romance for a moment. Manhattan Mama clearly feels deprived in this department and this is one of the most bewildering aspects of life with her. My latest attempt to remedy this is to make a reservation at A Voce--some interpretation of Tuscan cuisine--that the NYT recently gave three very optimistic stars. I've been a few times on my employers expense, so I know it's nice but I also know what it's going to cost. I'm thinking lucky if we get out of there for less than $150. Tack on another $50 for the babysitter. Then drinks, cabs, etc. Better not to do the math. It's not that MM wouldn't be perfectly happy with a kabab or a trip to the hipster taqueria, maybe some flowers from the corner stand. None of that would register in her mind as this mythic thing know as a DATE, and thus would win me no more points on her end than remembering to take down the recycling. Making a DATE means you're thinking of her, which means you're engaged with h...