The Shoulder Angel Syndrome

I'm sorry it's been four hundred million years since I posted last!  You were probably convinced I was dead.  I certainly wouldn't blame you!

It's just that I've been a wee bit on the busy side of life and I, regrettably, haven't been able to find the motivation to blog. I know, I know. Terrible. But oh-so-true.

Last weekend, my husband and I and our good friends (Tim and Christa) ventured to Las Vegas to attend the Drags. Oooooooh boy. I won't spend too much time on this because I don't really feel like it, but, uh, I don't like Vegas. I went to the Drags a few years back with my dad and his girlfriend and it was really quite fun. I enjoyed myself. This time around, I was just about plowed over by the not-so-good things that run a muck there.  I'm not saying everyone who resides in Las Vegas is wicked. I'm just merely trying to point out that I nearly died from the culture shock.

I'm weird like that, ya know. My mind has a certain control over my body that I sometimes don't appreciate. In fact, it scares the poop out of me sometimes. It's almost like there's a corner of my mind that argues with another corner. My mind says "Let's be happy and make the most out of this trip. Sure, there are some things you'd rather not see or experience, but that's okay. You're still on vacation and should have fun!" and then that demon side of my mind pipes up with something completely opposite. And my body seems to always listen to the wrong side. Why IS that?!? It's almost like the "shoulder angel/shoulder devil" you see in movies all the time, except it's all in my noggin.

There's also something else that has been taking up a lot of my time the past few days, but all ya'll can't know what it is yet. Sorry. :) 

I'll tell you one thing, though, I need to shampoo the carpet in my house in a baaaaad way. Like, right this very second. But I swear Zoe can sense these thoughts, and so she ends up having an accident on the carpet. She knows full well that I then hesitate to clean it because it will just get dirty again. I think she likes living in a stinky house. Gee wiz. 

But speaking of Zoe and things I need to do right this very second. . . I need to run far, far away from her. She is farting up a storm! The worst thing about it is that you can never hear them coming. . . the smell just all of a sudden assaults your nose and even the living room fan spinning at moch speed isn't enough to save you. 

So I must bid you a fond farewell. 

I really hope to be able to spend a little bit more time blogging the next while. It's just hard to blog about things when you don't have things happen that interest the blogging world. Ya know?!?