this time it's not my fault

You can blame it on my mother, like I do with other qualities about myself that I like to blame on my childhood ;-)

I did NOT begin writing a post for today last night, as I announced would be so wise of me to do (goshdangit I reallllly need to write about my favorite day in Boston which was like a month and a half ago). No. I went to bed and passed out last night, I was so tired. I just knew that I would get on top of things today. I just knew it.

Today ended up being super-busy volunteer/convalescent hospital stuff, and the small chunk of time I may have had in the afternoon went straight to helping MyFavoriteKid with homework. Then it was straight on to dinner.

MyFK and I have had dinner with my parents pretty much each and every Tuesday night since we moved up here last summer. "Tuesday Night, Family Night," we call it. It's usually dining out, but occasionally it is at one or the other's house. Tonight was an extra special treat. Sale on live Main lobster. Mom sprung (thanks mom!) and invited us over to her place. I brought the side dishes.

We started and finished dinner pretty early. I was about ready to head home and post, when Mom says to MyFK, "Go get that box, let's trip down memory lane!" This box she is talking about is a an ongoing project she and MyFK have tinkered with a bit lately. She she is basically beginning to divvy up the family photos.

Out comes "my" box, and all the while I am begging, I am pleading, I am complaining, I am insisting, "NO BOX". I am dying to come home and write about Boston. Out the box comes anyhow, and then we lose at least an hour tripping down memory lane.

Fine. I decide that if this is how my night is going to go, I at least have a trip down memory lane photo I'd like to write here about. I have my dad scan and email me a few of the photos. I get home and write a blogpost to go along with a photo of my mom and I together. Me at about age 1-1/2 in some funny little bonnet or hat that may have been hand knit or crocheted by I don't know who...and my mom....in the most perfectly perfect (yeah, sorry...it's just...well...perfect) late 1960's outfit EVER. These big ol' sunglasses and a cigarette and a faux fur jacket with these sort of plaid-ish, patchworky pants. It's amazing.

And at 10:30, right as I am about to publish the post, mom calls and says she doesn't want me to use the photo.

No sweat. I respect that.

Except now I have no friggin' post, and I'm too tired to finish the start the one about Boston 'cuz it will need a bunch of links and whatnot added to it, and I Want. To Go. To Bed. So let's blame my mom for pulling out the box, or for sorting photos, or for cooking a fabulous dinner, or somethinnnnng (and mom, you had best know I am kidding, for crying out loud), rather than blame myself.

So no catching up on past events (again), and no writing about something current that happened today either, and well.....here's a little token photo of me, to make up for it (?).



My favorite part is the skinned knee ;-)