It’s a blog, or “web-log,” for you and me. And by you, I mean Sarah, best friend since age 12, who will likely be the only person to read this.
Seriously, I miss having a place to write free of AP style and propriety constraints, and the MySpace blog just wasn’t cutting it anymore. And yet now that I’m here, with this lovely blank box, I’ve got nothing to say other than that creating one new blog that no one will ever love or acknowledge is seeming like an increasingly bad excuse for not cleaning my house.
But I won’t leave you with nothing, so here are two things. One is a picture of Jazzercise, something I spent many hours observing my mother doing in the years 1991-1994. It looks like this woman is putting her hand through her other self’s own thigh, which to me does not say “LOOK GREAT FEEL GREAT HAVE FUN.”
I am really jealous of her outfit. Shiny stirrups? Yes, please!
Also, and, speaking of, my mother has pneumonia and used this as an excuse to make me promise her something, saying she might be on her deathbed, which she is definitely not. The promise? That I’d look into and/or think about meditation, which she thinks would be good for me. If I had pneumonia, and the awesome emotional leverage that naturally follows, I would make you all promise things way worse. Like that you’d make me some kind of parrot mosaic every year for my birthday, or something.
Second thing, not silly: The jam of the day is the Beatles’ cover of Smokey Robinson’s “You Really Got A Hold On Me.” So good, so sad, and a great Sesame Street jam in the late ’80s.
Blog Time Incorporated 