Blogger Virgin

So here I write at the encouragement of a friend, wanting so much to be witty and profound and finding I am neither. I'm surprised at the lack of thought in my head; doubly surprising to me as I have so many soap boxes it is often hard to find the one I use for laundry!

Today is a Saturday like any other. Robert is not here (in his defense, he is actually working as opposed to fishing). The weather outside is the lovely gray of summer/fall limbo which I so enjoy. My daughter is sitting on my lap giggling at her picture she printed off from the Super Why website (a superhero dressed by her in pink and purple and named Ariel in honor of Disney's Little Mermaid). She is alternating between smothering me (quite literally) in kisses and holding up the picture right in front of my face, thinking that my attempts to see around her and her picture to what I am typing is just me playing peek-a-boo. I have a pile of laundry calling my name (oh, wait, it has moved and now an actual finger is beckoning me!); dishes with fruit flies buzzing about reminding me that they need to be done; groceries sitting on the table because the refrigerator is full of chopped tomatoes that I need to can so I can put the groceries away. Let's not discuss the current status of my bedroom nor the great guilt of hypocrisy I feel when I tell my children to clean their rooms. All this, yet I type. Truly the evidence of a sick mind.

But, ah, at least I am a virgin no more.