Well, I’ve been avoiding you, haven’t I?
I guess the fact that it was Christmas gives me an excuse, but I really shouldn’t exercise it. After all, what’s the point in having a blog if I don’t use it to own up to my own shortcomings? It’s not like anyone reads it yet, anyway.
Oh yeah, that’s the other thing – Darrell’s the only other person who knows this blog exists. Mostly that’s by design; I’m new to this whole blogging world and I don’t want to start running around acting like a blogger when I’ve only completed three entries. Also, I’m self-conscious that, the grammarian that I am, I might have left a typo or two within these pages.
And that would be downright mortifying.
So instead, I write here and eventually (I hope) get better until I can share this with a few others. Until then – back to Christmas…
Our first Christmas as a married couple was, quite frankly, a lot like the last two: a fairly calm and uneventful weekend filled with family & food. That is, of course, right up until the brother-in-law’s dog decided to join in the gorge fest…by inhaling a 1-pound box of chocolates.
Yes. I said chocolates.
Now, anyone who knows anything about dogs knows that’s NOT how you want to spend your Christmas afternoon. After about 20 minutes of coaxing her to vomit, the chocolate was out and she was fine (she evidently just likes to scare for attention).
Of course, it goes without saying that all of the humans ate too much. Between the honeymoon and the holidays, I think I officially have to bite the bullet and become one of those New Year’s resolution people next week, trying my damnedest to get back into shape. Don’t lie: you know you’re looking forward to hearing all about the workout regimen in upcoming posts.
But hey, it’s not like there’s a you, anyway.