BOTY
Blogger Of The Year (not to be confused with my avidly used nickname MOTY...)
I've neglected this sweet, delicate space for updating the cyber and American nation lately.
I'm fully aware that this is no news to you.
This post is a mere apology I'm sure will be slighted and eyes will roll at my attempt to "recapture" my audience.
I've fallen prey to the Crackberry community. Addiction of all walks fall shorter than a midget in a hole in the ground to the addiction that lies in owning a Crackberry.
What's worse than bringing one Crackberry into a household at any given time? Bringing two Crackberries into a household on the same day at the very same moment.
Let's just say, Steve and I have become addicted to Crack. (We're debating on the notion of capitalizing on the idea and producing t-shirts. Don't steal the idea, I'll hunt you down using my turn-by-turn directions on the devices navigation feature...)
The prevalent upside to having a Crackberry...better driving skills. It's impossible for me to even touch my phone now while I'm behind the wheel. No doubt about it, we'd careen into a wall, ditch, guardrail, pedestrian, establishment, vehicle, or curb if I attempted to do anything on the futuristic contraption.
Dylan is a bundle of energy lately though. The terrible twos come early.
Temper tantrums at the word "No!" and being carried or being confined to a seat (i.e. car seat, stroller, shopping cart) are things of the past. Someone is obsessed with walking. Good thing he decided to give those crazy things called shoes a chance at existing on his feet.
The screech. A high pitched, whiny, LOUD, prolonged screech. The result of any tantrum or opposition in that little spawn nugget.
Sleeping at night has become no better for me. Still unable to rest at night and I'm not exactly sure why. Exhausted? Yes. Physically or Mentally? Both. Don't know what the deal is with my crazy (wish it were a bit more)little body.
Tonight we're going to the Dave Matthews Band concert at Cricket Pavilion. We've gone every year with the exception to the year I was insanely pregnant and wouldn't have imagined us staying beyond the trek from the parking lot.
I'll be wearing my DramaBeats shirt. Yes, I'm that kind of television show viewer. I'm ready to buy a Jeffster softball tee. If you know what that's from, you're sure to secure the spot as my new BFF.
Work has kept me busy, busy too. I like that. It's giving me a chance to let out my creative angst. It's all pent up in my head with nowhere to run to baby, nowhere to hide. Oh, sorry, broke into song.
Speaking of song, American Idol has been mediocre the past two weeks. Maybe I'm maturing into an adult destined to watch CNN and NatGeo. No. Can't be. Lame music I suppose.
Off to eat me some lunch (Yes at 2:05pm) and watch some DVR goodness. AKA my daily Dylan takes a nap regime.
'Til next time (with pictures so I can claim some reader retention),
Jess
