Are You There Blog? It's Me...

Once upon a time…

[scribble, scribble, scratch]

It was a dark and stormy night…

[scribble, scratch, scratch]

It was a bright cold day in April and the clocks were striking thirteen...

After nearly two months SansSavant I’m at a loss how to get this party started.

[“oil can”]

Cake is out of the question as I’m All About the Atkins.
Again.
Alas.
Argh.
Agony.
(Is there an “A” word for the Big D? cuz it Applies. [Ahem.])

I’ve been too long Silent Savant and now I don’t know where to begin.
For FAT Savant it's under 20 carbs per day.
BLOGGING Savant says “It’s been a long time since the rocking of roll,” then her internal jukebox is plagued by an unnatural duet of Robert Plant and Vlad.

[drip]

[drip]

[drip]

I’m at a Loss For Words
And I can honestly say It’s Rare.
Exceptional.
Unthinkable.
Unheard of.
Uncommon.
RL Dead Air is Seldom.
Unheard of.
Out of the ordinary.
Infrequent.
I Talk on the inhale, so in RL it Never Happens.
Not ever.
No way.
At no time.
I Always have Words.
Consistently.
Eternally.
In perpetuum.

I have 17 pages of Posts on Deck, so WTHiatus?

So I says to myself; I says, “Self, how're you gonna start?”
Me not being much of a self-starter; this is hard.
"Plagiarism is the answer!" I exclaim, adding, "Could you please repeat the question?"

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
It was a pleasure to burn.
In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.
You better not never tell nobody but God. Elmer Gantry was drunk.
I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story.
Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, [this blog] must show.

I loathe sporadic bloggers who’re constantly opening their random posts with promises to be more faithful. Big Deal you didn't post.
I’m not Going There.
Big Deal I was gone.
Big Deal.

The earth continued to rotate around celebrity gossip the sun. The wind still blew horizontally and water was still wet. The mold on my neighbor’s house thrived (encroaching on the property line, if you must know), and rednecks raced ATVs up and down our street.
I stayed cool. HAGS

[Note to Vlad: You wanted to work on a post? Put a segue here. Thanks! - Kel]

My aunt was a big fan of the Christmas letter. My mom was close to her, but we still got a rose-colored update annually.
Auntie was so maudlin she glossed over Cousin NoName’s raging crab lice infestation and Mom lost it.
She wrote a hilarious satire that included my brother’s loss of a limb and one of us being confined to an iron lung after a bout with polio.

PSA
It should be said that polio is NOT funny. Some of my readers are already taxed by the Sounding Out of Words and I don't want them to worry that I'm laughing at polio.
Polio is bad and scary, like southern belles who wear stacked heels with jeans and insist on going high makeup for a trip to Kroger. Scary is divas who take a first grader for an eyebrow wax and hair extensions in preparation for Picture Day. Southern prima donnas are scarier than finding a cave cricket in your box of eight tracks.

Uh-oh. There's the salt in Savant.
See? Snark and sarcasm.
Satire is what you’d get if I tried to bring you up-to-speed.

I don’t know WHATiVo happened to cause the Intertestamental Period at HS.
I neglected my blogiversary.
But really; who cares that I didn’t gift you for my Big Day? I should be getting the swag.
One Year.
Happy me.

[crickets]

Seventeen pages of draft.
Work on deck includes dozens of clever terms, quips, and phrases.
I’ve got a buttload of random gems and full posts from self and Vlad.
I’ve got award acceptance and memes.
Okay, that’s a lie.
That last part; not the clever terms, quips, and phrases, random gems and full posts from self and Vlad. THAT I've got.
Got 'em in spades.
In other words I’ve got nothing.

Blame it on Netflix.

Jen Lancaster did it.

It’s Walking Daycare Baby’s fault. I have to watch that child like a hawk.
I know; right?
He touches stuff.

My Fabulous Kitchen is done. Those of you who know me on facebook have seen photos. They’ll make it here. Or no.

When I’m not channeling my Inner Gay with kitchen accessories I’m getting my Easter on.
We got Easter (now that we HAVE Easter), and I want it to be Over The Top when The Darlings come in April.
This year’s motto is, “If it doesn’t bleed it should be coated in German glass glitter.” (Get it here.)

I am an inmate of a mental hospital; my keeper is watching me, he never lets me out of his sight.

bright cold day -George Orwell, 1984
If you really want to hear - J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
best/worst times - Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities
pleasure to burn - Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451
more vulnerable years - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
tell nobody - Alice Walker, The Color Purple
Elmer Gantry was drunk - Sinclair Lewis, Elmer Gantry
a different story – Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome
the hero of my own life - Charles Dickens, David Copperfield
mental hospital - Gunter Grass, The Tin Drum