I wake up a lot of mornings and start writing, but then (for whatever reason) don’t finish. I save and it automatically goes into a draft folder. I have 42 drafts half written, sitting there, unfinished; drafted but not completed. If you’ve come to this blog anytime in the last month, you’ve noticed a whole heckuva lot of Twitter updates. It’s about all I’ve been able to do, but honestly, it’s because I haven’t made any real time to blog. Besides, there’s almost TOO much going on. I have a hard time summing up. I like writing and before I know it, blog entries are over 1000 words. What is this, The LA Times? That’s not really a joke. I don’t think the LA Times has particularly long articles, but I couldn’t think of a paper that does.

Wil Wheaton is the king of short and sweet blog entries. Then again, if I were a living deity, I’d probably be able to master short and sweet blog entries as well. Sometimes he goes on tangents, but mostly, he’s to the point and hilarious. I’ll try to be more hilarious anyway.

As I said, there’s quite a bit going on. First off, there are some new developments in my life that I am not ready to talk about, but man…it’s good. Also, I’ve been terribly busy with work. That’s good, everyone replies. It’s good to be busy. I agree, but it’s given me less time to focus on things I enjoy besides photography: podcasting, writing, taking pictures of my cats, watching TV, and going for a walk every day. A week ago, I was juggling 4 clients. I was actually starting to go a little nuts. Things have slowed down and I am pretty stoked about it. I’ve been out of the musical loop. Turns out I missed Wire and Killing Joke – two bands I would have loved to see. Damn. Can’t lose sight of the music. Love it.

Last night AJB and I saw 9 to 5 the Musical. I’m not a theater person. I think most theater people are pretentious, like they know something the rest of us don’t. They know what it’s like to sit through 2 hours of second rate musical scores, bad singing, and flouncy dancing. Yeah they know. I’ve been with AJB long enough to know that it’s definitely not all good and most of it is, in fact, bad. Still, 9 to 5 was pretty cute, I have to say. It’s funny that I would like 9 to 5 and not Sweeney Todd or Edward Scissorhands the Ballet. I didn’t. They kinda sucked. I could easily sit through Shakespeare any day of the week. I like old William S. I’m no scholar, but I’ve always found his flair for words exciting. I have this feeling that people didn’t really talk like that back then. If they did, it means we’ve gotten even more stupider. The English language has been butchered. Print is dead.

AJB is working from home now. He’s downstairs and I’m upstairs. I wasn’t sure I was going to like it, but come to find out, I actually do. It’s been good and we haven’t spend THAT much time together. Not like we’re getting on each other’s nerves yet. I speak for myself, you know. So far, it hasn’t become Deathtrap.

We’ve got some serious travel plans in the next couple of months. Vegas for Obama and Cirque du Soleil, Florida for a theme park trade show, Chicago for Thanksgiving and college open houses for the eldest son, and finally Omaha to see my new nephew (whom is still in the oven as of this post). Of course, PMS (my baby brother, yeah, his initials are PMS, probably for a reason I think) doesn’t know I’m coming because he won’t call me back…even when I say I have exciting news. Ce la vie. I guess I’ll just show up, knock on the door and be all, “lemmie see dat babie!!!” *snuggle* *cuddle* I like babies.

After all that, we still have to plan for Christmas Eve at our house. It’s the new tradition. Used to be held at Aunt J’s house, but the torch as been passed. We’ve got a big house and I love entertaining. I keep saying we need to do it more. And as the holidays are around the corner, it makes me think of my Dad. He never got to celebrate Christmas Eve at my house. He would have loved it, he would have told me how good I was doing, and how he didn’t used to like AJB, but that he turned out to be a good guy. I would have said, See Dad? I told you. I think my Dad would be proud of me. I miss all that. Automatically turning into a 5 year old when my Dad was around and clamoring for his attention. *sigh*

Oh, and my Mom isn’t calling me. Who knows why.

So yeah, busy end of year ahead. Who’s got time to blog? Oh well, Wil Wheaton does.