Nothing to Say
I don't need to tell you that I have not blogged here in a long time. The last consistent entries have been during poetry month. That's because I have nothing to write about. My life is primarily things that I told myself I would not burden others with. Like the details of raising children. That stuff is important only to parents, right? Who really cares that when your brother asked your son if he is intelligent the son said, "No, I'm in pre-K."?
And do you really want to know that I have started to work out again. I found it difficult to get to the gym with the newest baby, so I bought this home workout series sorta bootleg. It's quite a challenge to do balance yoga poses with a nine-month-old crawling up one's leg. A before and after picture would probably do just fine, I think. If enough people want I'll provide those in 90 days or so. So far I have gained four pounds.
Then there is the waiting tables. One of my co-workers told me I am the wisest person she knows. If I was so wise, I wouldn't be doing the exact same thing as people half my age and without children to feed. I took the job so I could take care of the children during the day and easily take time off for any gigs I might get. But with the gigs getting fewer and the two out of three children now in school during the day, I'm not sure the restaurant is the best idea anymore.
None of these things have anything to do with funk or poetry. I would probably be better served starting some daddy, or workout, or waiter rant blog, but the truth is I'm too lazy. I have been writing a little in a private journal but we write differently when we think somebody might read it (Yeah, I know nobody is reading this). So, this is to practice writing because deep inside that is who I am. I am not a workout guru, professional server, or expert on raising kids. I know, I'm not an expert writer either. I'm bumbling through that too. But, at least here I can pretend I know what I'm doing.
And do you really want to know that I have started to work out again. I found it difficult to get to the gym with the newest baby, so I bought this home workout series sorta bootleg. It's quite a challenge to do balance yoga poses with a nine-month-old crawling up one's leg. A before and after picture would probably do just fine, I think. If enough people want I'll provide those in 90 days or so. So far I have gained four pounds.
Then there is the waiting tables. One of my co-workers told me I am the wisest person she knows. If I was so wise, I wouldn't be doing the exact same thing as people half my age and without children to feed. I took the job so I could take care of the children during the day and easily take time off for any gigs I might get. But with the gigs getting fewer and the two out of three children now in school during the day, I'm not sure the restaurant is the best idea anymore.
None of these things have anything to do with funk or poetry. I would probably be better served starting some daddy, or workout, or waiter rant blog, but the truth is I'm too lazy. I have been writing a little in a private journal but we write differently when we think somebody might read it (Yeah, I know nobody is reading this). So, this is to practice writing because deep inside that is who I am. I am not a workout guru, professional server, or expert on raising kids. I know, I'm not an expert writer either. I'm bumbling through that too. But, at least here I can pretend I know what I'm doing.