So...Lindsey called me out on my lack of blogging. If you're like me, you peruse your friends' blogs daily - not really expecting to find anything new - and you're pleasantly surprised when a new post is...posted. It's kinda like when I go to my parents house and open the fridge. I'm not really looking for anything to eat, and I'm not expecting to see something I really want to dive into...it's just what I do when I go over there.

We'll today, my friends, you happened upon a MilkyWay Midnight in the butter dish.

Here's my catch 22: I want to be a writer, but I don't have anything published. When you want to get published, they ask for samples of your published material. Anybody see a problem with that? Yeah, me too. Along the same lines, I'd love to write for my current employer in some capacity. On Friday, I'm meeting with the director of our employee newsletter. For those who know my employer, you can imagine it's not your standard copy-machine-published company newsletter. So it's a job worth aspiring to. When we set up the meeting, he said, "feel free to send me your writing samples." "Feeling free is not the problem, sir." I just don't have anything extremely impressive to give him. No huge credits or accolades in this baby portfolio. So today, I've given myself the task of compiling (and probably writing) a few niblets of my work that will waft eau de peaby in his general direction. Actually, I gave my self that task last night, but put it off till today. (Maybe that's why I'm not published?) I think I would be a good fit, but obviously it's not my call at this point in time.

So, I'm off to the races. I'll be here for a while. I'm afraid if I go home the couch will call my name instead of my muses.

PB