Full plates are for buffets.

My folks have taken my kid out for a few hours. Alfred is out, too. The house is quiet. Too quiet, like I should be expecting to hear the creepy skittering of some horror-movie monstrosity moving through my walls.

Perfect time to blog, right?

Orrrrr….dick around on Facebook for an hour. Read some online comics. Stare blankly at Twitter with nothing to say. Poke unenthusiastically at my neglected camera.

It occurs to me, belatedly, that I may have over-committed myself. When I have these lovely moments alone, I don’t feel energized or creative. I feel like a wet dishrag. Who needs a nap.

(Damn dishrags, they get all the good naps.)

One four-year-old, two committees, one Board, 3 twitter accounts, a handful of Facebook pages, one team sport, a blog, and, oh yeah, that job thing, adds up to OMG I’M MMMMMEEEEEEEELLLTTTTTTTIIIIIIIIING.

I never used to volunteer for things. During my job search, it became pretty obvious that I needed some volunteerism on my resume, so I started putting my hand up. Now I seem unable to stop. The guilt of not getting things accomplished seems outweighed by the need to be seen as a team player. When did I turn into that person?

And when can I go back to being a selfish bitch who says "no" regularly because her ass has a date with the couch?

I think I’ll just blame it on my thyroid and the fact that it’s February.

Er, March.

(When the fuck did that happen?)

Anyway, have some derby photos. I’m the one who looks very concerned. With all his talents, Rob Vida couldn’t take a photo of me smiling, mostly because I didn’t smile. I was trying to look threatening, maybe? BUT I SWEAR I HAD FUN.


(I’m in the front, actually blocking someone. Go me!)


(Annnndd….there goes the black jammer.)

Well, that was fun. Let’s do this again sometime. I’ll pencil you in around May?