So he’s walking around with his father’s iTouch now. And he’s talking. A lot. Unfortunately,  he likes to start most of his words with “f.” This is only really a problem when he’s yelling words like “cracker” over and over again in the grocery store — which has been known to happen. “F*CKER!!! F*CKER!!!” Nice, Rascal. Nice.

So I have a cold — again. Because I don’t take care of myself: I don’t do enough yoga, I don’t eat right (despite what everyone thinks for some reason), I don’t take my vitamins, and my sniffly kids and smelly cat constantly cover me with sloppy kisses. I am so loved. Loved enough that I don’t care that I have the sniffles right now.

So I don’t care about a lot of things I used to care about. Including getting out a decent blog post every time (ahem)…. The internet can suck you in and spit you out and suck you back in again. It spit me out yesterday — and I quite like it here, all spit out. I’m in a good place. I think I’ll stay here. Covered in spit.

So I just wrote three freelance pieces. Yes, I’m freelance writing, like professional for, like, here and here. And I have very little writing steam left in me tonight because of the hours of writing, the sore eyes and sniffles. I really wasn’t going to blog this evening. But the internet spit me out yesterday, so you know….

So now that I’ve written something here, I DO have to go to bed and attempt to read this month’s book club pick (450+ pages!): The Help, by Kathryn Stockett.

So far, it’s excellent. I can easily say I’ve never read anything like it. Deep into the heart of the Mississippi, the Internet spit me out, 1962….

So I remember a while back, this blogger I used to read. She said she loathed when people started sentences with “So.” And so ever since then I’ve been a little self-conscious about my “So”s at the beginning of sentences. But, you see, I don’t care so much now because the internet spit me out. It had to, you know. I wanted it to.

Love!

xo Haley-O

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