Don’t you hate it when your favorite bloggers go and get paying gigs and then they never blog at their old websites with the frequency and fervor that got them the paying gigs in the first place? I hate that. It bums me out all the time. Why is everyone such a sell-out!? I yell silently and shake my fists at the sky while I secretly wish I had a paying gig that kept me away from my blog too. Like a book deal that would make me rich quick so I’d never have to worry about scrimping at the grocery store again!
While I will not be so bold as to say that I am your favorite blogger or that I blog with fervor (I will cop to frequency), I have to admit I can’t blog about what is going on right now because it is for a top-secret assignment for my paying gig. But I can tell you vaguely about it.
It involves making a mess. And it is super-duper really really really FUN. Of course! What else would you expect, right? I bring the chaos to the party. However, this time I decided to do my top-secret craft project at my friend Jen’s house. She has three kids and I guess they like craziness. I warned her of the mess and my tendency to forget that I have a small child running around because I am so absorbed in whatever project that has caught my fancy. She was game. She’s a sucker.
So we are making a mess at her house. A BIG mess. In fact, this project is so big and messy that it couldn’t be finished in one day so I have to go back today to clean up and take photos. I was really worried that I had worn out and spit on my welcome because I pretty much trashed her backyard and stomped her children’s routine into the ground. But she’s stuck with me now because I have to finish. I can’t just leave things half done. What’s a girl to do? Transport said mess home? It wouldn’t fit in my car. (Ooops, I hope that doesn’t give it away. If you have an idea, keep mum.)
I did what I always do. I sent a zillion apologetic emails about the mess and hoped that a night without us would make their hearts grow fonder. Apparently it did because this morning I got an email from Jen (in her famous sarcastic sense of humor) saying they were wiggling on the floor like dying fish moaning, “No. More. Fuuuuuunnnnnn.”
I love Jen. I will be back and I will KILL them with fun. Die, floppy fish friends! Die!