Sometimes that happens. You're talking with a friend, you pause to look down at your sandwich for a moment. You might be saying, "Well seriously, I don't know, yeah, I know, totally! Do you want this pickle?" And then you look up and your friend is gone and doesn't blog for a full month. You look back down at your pickle. Its juice is soaking your potato chips. This happens sometimes.
Amy and I both, by unspoken accord, took an unannounced summer breaky from blogging. Then, as she has already revealed, we were the recipients of a snippy email from our dad earlier this week:
Saturday will be one full month since either of you has blogged. In recognition of that landmark date there will be no cake and cocktails on the deck at the Briar Patch. Please make no plans to attend. Love, DadHe has such a way about him.
In response to this, Amy hastened to post an update, but I reacted to this epistle with the stony silence that makes me so beloved in the family. When I want to ignore something, I can ignore it thirteen ways to Sunday. Shhh! I was resting!
How are y'all? You look good! I mean some of you literally look good and I am sure of this because I've gotten together with two bloggers in the last month, Jenni and Aimee. So, meeting and greeting, swimming and sunning, sweating and swatting. Summer ramped up and with it came an increase in activities for every member of the family. On one hand, I feel like a ton has happened, and then again, if you asked me, "What have you been up to?" I could with truthfulness say, "Nothing much." So it will probably take me a couple of weeks to tell you about the nothing much. I mean, you know how I do.
Tonight I'm in North Carolina at the mountain house. Tomorrow at dark o'clock we're heading up to DC to spend the 4th with Dave and Katie and Baby Gabriel. It will be moist and steamy and patriotic and we can't wait. I'll be checking in. I swear! Don't look like that.
The other morning, Hank announced, "Mom, I've grown my first patch of man hair." I asked him to show me this man hair and then he couldn't locate the man hair, but insisted that "It's on my tenders." I mean, that could have been a whole three-paragraph blog post right there. You're so sorry you missed it!
If you're on the road for the holiday (not you, Aussies and Canadians but Happy Belated Canada Day), travel safely. I kiss your face.