He's Not Going To Like This

Face washed, I came out of our master bathroom last night ready to relax and watch a little TV with my husband. Mr. T was sitting up on the left side (his side) of our queen-sized bed, four pillows stuffed between his back and the headboard. The mint green comforter was pulled up to his waist underneath his computer, which was open and resting on his lap.

He turned his head and looked up at me. "You can't just keep blogging T Junior's words."

I flicked my arm at him. "Whatever, dude. I didn't feel like writing a big, long post and I hadn't written in a while."

Some days I feel inspired by lots of things. It might be something T Junior did or, ahem, said or it could be something I saw on reality TV (because I don't often get much deeper than that).

However, sometimes nothing seems worth sharing. In fact, I wrote two blog posts recently that I decided not to publish. One was about Father's Day, but I didn't know where I was going with it. I just started writing to see if it took me anywhere. Dead end. The other one was about the differences between girls and boys, and how this shows through the toys they love. Like choo-choos versus Barbies. I was an hour into trying to make it work when I shook my head, wrinkled my nose and thought, not interesting.

And, okay, so maybe a list of T Junior's latest words isn't my best prose, but at least it kind of had a beginning and an end, and was slightly entertaining...even if only for me.

Today, I got a pedicure. A real one. The kind you spend money on. Not the kind where I'm balancing on my left foot with the right one resting up on the soaker tub and I'm painting each entire toe hoping what stays on the nail will look good after I peel the excess off in the shower. It's been two years and, oh man, was it nice.

And, that's what inspired me to write this little gem. *wink, wink*

But Mr. T's not going to be excited about this piece, either, and not just because he'll think my paid-for pedi was frivolous.

I can picture tonight's pre-bedtime scene: He looks up from his laptop, his deep-set eyes scrunched together. "Dude. People are going to think I'm a jerk."

I put my hands on my hips. "No they won't, dude." (We say dude a lot at our house.)

But just in case...Mr. T is not a jerk.

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What inspires you to blog?