I haven't posted a blog post in a month. There are a couple of good reasons for that:
1. I don't have much to say.
2. I recently became aware of the fact that actual people read this blog. Not just our usual friends, family and stalkers, I'm talking about real people who could be doing real things but instead choose to piss away their waking hours here.
Obviously that's more of a commitment than I signed on for.
But here at 3 a.m. on the night before my only day off this week, on a day in which I'll be sending my oldest child out into the world (again!), I felt a need to say...something.
"Something" would include worrying. I worry about the kids, and I worry that I'll never get enough emotional distance to stop worrying about them. I worry about the lump in Lori's arm and her bad back. I worry about the crappy economy, the unfair economic hand the middle class has been dealt, the sorry state of my 401k, and the impact on the kids (who I've vowed to worry about less). I worry that we'll work until one or the other of us drops dead, and all that working and worrying will be for naught.
Mostly, I worry that there are too many balls in the air for us normal folks to juggle, and that the only safety net we have is ourselves.
I don't have a nice picture of the puppy to post but Lori's planning to buy a new camera this weekend to replace the one that crapped out. But it doesn't matter anyway...I'm not in a puppy-picture mood. I'm in a circle-the-wagons, move-to-the-country-and-grow-your-own-vegetables-and-live-like-the-Unabomber mood.
When the sun comes out and the world looks brighter I plan to feel better. But for now...I worry. I hope your winter is smoother.