The chubs-style standoff

We got a puppy. A six month old puppy! A bouncy, slobbery, giddy-as-all-hell puppy!

Why, you ask? Why now?

Well, because the recovery from having family, guests, and neighbors at our house for the holidays just wasn't easy enough. Because potty training a puppy alongside potty training a toddler sounded fun. Because celebrating Christmas, Everett's birthday, New Years and my birthday all in a row just wasn't enough to celebrate. Because who doesn't want to get up at 2:30 a.m. and stand outside in -9 degree weather while saying (saying, not shouting, oh no, never shouting) "Go pee pee! Go pee pee!"

And finally, because we really, really, reeeaallly wanted to piss off the cat.

On the hunt for sexy beets

I miss this blog. I really, really do.

Last year at this time I made the switch from being a full-time working mother to a part-time working mother, and I thought I'd hit the jackpot with that most precious of commodities: time.

More time with the kids, more time with the groceries and laundry (ah, domesticity), more time with my failing brain.

Then my husband, Chuck, got laid off and I started saying yes to every freelance job that came my way. And now here I am again, a full-time working mother except now I shove Cheerios into my kids' mouths so they don't scream during conference calls. Now I ask them if they want to watch TV —"Don't you?! Don't you?!"— so I can sit down at my computer and type furiously—furiously!—to the backdrop of Curious George.

I'm not complaining. I swear I'm not. The flexibility of this new life is priceless. I rue the day that this routine becomes the norm and I stop appreciating the extra time I have with my children.

And Chuck. Yah, he's freelancing too, so we're driving all over the state of Connecticut (and sometimes New York) and our fucking monthly health insurance payment is a mortgage but we're both home more.

I can't lie, there are a lot of days that feel pretty damn good in Mulletville Lite.

But I mean what I said: I miss this blog. I miss all the shit that's happened that I haven't been able to write about. I miss my old job at Mulletville Corp if only because I would spend entire days writing blog posts.

I want to get back here, physically and literally. I want to get back to blogging and to that delightful place where I had time to reflect.

(And breathe. Breathing is good.)

Except it can't be now. I have to find photos of beets and broccoli for a magazine spread. If, after you finish reading this post, you stumble across a hot beet picture, could you send it my way?

Thank you.