oh, blog, where art thou?

Have I become like the worst blogger ever? Me, who blogged faithfully every minutiae of my life? Well, I would like to blog a bit more, and I'm going to try to set myself some personal writing challenges. The sad thing is that a lot of what I once blogged about can be distilled into the 140 characters of a Twitter entry. And since my Twitter automatically updates my Facebook status, well, I end up doing what I vowed to never do: chitchatting with my Twitter/FB friends more than substantive blogging. Not that I'm typically verbose anyway. It's just that when you start a blog entry, there's a potential for verbosity.

The blog is the only place I really write anymore. And it's sad when I don't write. I never thought that would be the case, when I would write so little. I backed up my hard drive tonight. There were only a handful of items in the "Documents" folder. So sad!

As Marlowe eats more solid food, I nurse less. And then I get less of the happy hormone that breastfeeding gives you, oxytocin. And then I get the blues. Happened with Ellis, too. Then when I get the blues I get introspective and start to despair that the only productive thing I did that day was pick up the same toys over and over and over again. And is that really productive? Since I have to keep repeating the task? This is a season. I will exercise more, take in more sunshine, eat dark chocolate.

We've been living life. Making things. thinking things. and yes, even reading things. More to come.