I am where I am, and that's where I am...

I am still here.

I have been vacationing on the sunny shores of Lake Michigan, reading a fantastic little collection of short stories, knitting a camisole, writing new poems, working on submitting them, and reveling in the sexy benefits of a healthy tan. I have not, however, been blogging.

I realize that this is an unfortunate recurring theme in the past few posts. Over the past year, I have taken on the hobby of picking up new hobbies, and blogging was one of them. I have always been a writer of some sort, personally and professionally. Blogging turned out to be a useful way to get myself back into the rhythm of writing a few times a week, and a harmless way to feel a bit famous. Things were going well there, for a while. But then I got busy...

(I think that last part, about feeling famous, is the unwritten reason most people blog. No one admits it, though, except scary kidnapping sex offenders from Idaho who air their sicknesses online. And me. I admit it. In the age of easy media and reality television, everyone can be famous...and everyone expects that they should be. I, however, don't expect to be famous. I expect to be legendary.)

Now that I'm writing more often in non-blog forms, I've left you hanging, my dear readers. I am not going to promise more regular posting. That would be cruel. But if you check back a few times a month, you should find some tasty, brainy goodness.

...um, not so appetizing. Sorry.