I put myself in time out. Like the disciplinary kind of time out in which you put your kid in the corner to get them to think about the what and why of their behavior, I needed a minute or a handful of months to reevaluate my goals in blogging. If I’m being honest, it probably had a lot to do with the reason I presented you with, but also there could be an uglier, less altruistic reason.
June 20, 2016
Remember that time I gushed all over all things southern? If you don’t, you can catch yourself up here to better understand my love affair with the south. While honeymooning with #3 in Charleston and Savannah, I noticed a plethora of pineapples. Pineapple flags hung on porches and peered out front room windows. Plaster pineapples were focal points in archways while those of the copper and concrete variety sat atop fences, walls, and garden gates. They welcomed you on doormats, knockers, and address plates. And for those of you who haven’t noticed, there is a brilliant and beautiful pineapple fountain centered in Charleston’s famous Waterfront park. I was both fascinated and smitten with the abundance and repetition of this delectable fruit. Thanks to modern technology and Google, I quickly educated myself on the historical relevance of the Pineapple in Colonial America.
May 30th, 2016
I did a thing. A thing that I vowed I would never do. I wasn’t bribed or dared or drunk. I installed a dating app on my phone. And I don’t even want to date! I mean, that’s only mostly true. Because I want to have the opportunity to accept dates and do date things like movies and dinners and first kisses. I want to reach into my closet and finally choose one of the dozens of adorable dresses that have patiently and hopefully hung for so long. Mostly, I just want someone potentially available in the off chance that I have an opening in my schedule and don’t want to fill it with the usual. Is that something I should include in my bio? Should I disclose that my spirit animal is a cat because I want love when I want it and even if I want it, one too many strokes will get you bit? And like a cat, I’m a bit of an asshole and I’m never going to greet you at the door or follow you around. And you have to think that’s awesome.