Clearly, I died.

Or was in a coma. Or developed complete amnesia and didn’t realize I had a blog. Any one of those would work. That’s what they do on soap operas.

“She died!”

“No, Damien misidentified the body because the corpse wore her favorite shade of lipstick. She was just hit on the head by a unusually large acorn squash during produce judging at the county fair and fell into a coma.”

“And when she woke up, she’d lost her memory and took a job as a dog food taster named Brunhilde until she saw Damien carrying an extra large case of Cesar Beef Burgundy in Petco and her former life gushed back like the slobber from the mouth of Damien’s teacup chihuahua when she saw the aforementioned case of canine cuisine.”


Clearly I need to enter the Bulwer Lytton contest.


I just had a baby. He’s cute and cuddly and loads of trouble. I recently transitioned to being a stay-at-home mom. It is fabulous and just as much fun as I hoped it would be.

I still don’t intend to spend a lot of time blogging, partially because of the aforementioned baby (who is racing toward toddlerhood at a frightening pace), but I do want to keep my two or three followers updated on my novel progress.

Do not expect posts about or pictures of my son. I am not a mommy blogger. I’m actually of the opinion that a child shouldn’t have his life splashed on the internet for all to see. I feel the same way about children on reality shows. At best it is awkward and confusing. At worst it is exploitation and a great way to keep therapists in business. Sorry to disappoint. He’s cute, he’s funny, but he’s mine. I’m not sharing unless you’re friends with me on facebook (and that’s not even a guarantee).

Anyway, I’m not dead. I hope this brings joy to your heart.


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