Define Slacker

My dearest daughter recently referred to me as a slacker for not blogging in over a week.

A slacker?
Quite possible.

I could say I've had nothing new to blog about, but that would not be completely true. I have been busy lately and have even had somewhat of a life. Last week, for instance, I traveled with a good friend to a part of the Midwest that was pretty close to my parents... so close, in fact, that they made a four-hour drive and rented a hotel room for a couple of nights just for the chance to see me. Talk about making a girl feel special.

I had a great time, too. Besides having the opportunity to shop a little with my mom and follow my dad's directions to a dive of a place to eat (inside joke), I got to spend some much-needed friend time with my... well, friend. We watched strangers in the airport and talked to strangers in the hotel and listened to strangers on the plane. We laughed and talked and napped on an airport couch for no good reason. Good times.

In the back of my mind, though, has been that last job interview I went on (remember the last post with my sharpie-corrected pants?). I have yet to hear anything which I am assuming most likely means another no thank-you. In addition, my main mode of transportation decided to take an unplanned siesta and is still sitting out-of-commission in my backyard. Thank goodness our back-up plan with over two-hundred thousand miles remains faithful.

Wait a minute. I wrote about car trouble in the last post, didn't I?
See what I mean? Things have been happening, but nothing has changed.

I really do feel like a slacker.

Good thing the NFL season kicks off tomorrow night. The referee situation may be questionable, but my place on the couch is not. Combine that with the return of Starbuck's pumpkin spice latte and my day to volunteer at the museum, and and the mid-week might bring hope yet.

Thanks, dearest daughter, for keeping tabs on your mother.

You are my inspiration.