I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be wholly absent from the internet for something ridiculous like three entire days. Seriously, three days of being mostly offline is akin to, I don’t know, going down in a bi-plane crash in the Congo in the 1920’s or something. Which is to say, everyone will assume you’re dead and odds are good you’ll have to abandon societal norms and embrace a lifestyle of savagery that will leave you changed forever.
Well, believe it or not, even though I haven’t published a post since Valentine’s Day, barely touched social media over the weekend, and have been a positively abysmal Words with Friends opponent (yes, I see your nudges, I’ll be right with you), I’m happy to announce that I’m not actually dead.
And believe it or not, I’ve also not taken to wearing any sort of native attire, or hunting wild boars with spears.
I did, however, have a ridiculously full weekend. I took the day off on Friday and the Puddinette and I spent some lovely post-Valentine’s Day time together. We even saw a movie in the full light of day (Silver Lining Playbook, if you must know; a review will likely appear here sooner or later). It was almost like a date or something.
Later that day, I attended Cincy Winter Beerfest, where, rumor has it, I somehow managed to largely behave and not make a fool of myself. Well, too much of a fool, anyway. Some basic, default level of foolishness is kind of assumed
After all, I do have standards to uphold, you know.
If there was a day I’d have been mostly likely to devolve into the aforementioned Piggy-torturing savage, it would have been Saturday. In the morning, Mini-Me and I represented at his Cub Scout Pack’s Pinewood Derby with this year’s arrow-shaped car, The Green Machine. He didn’t place in his den’s races, but still had a good time and, more importantly, came away with several schemes for next year’s racer.
After that, I raced myself downtown to 5B: Believers in Better Beer, Bites, and Blogging conference. I arrived just in time for the lunch break and then the afternoon sessions. Which is good, you know, since I was talking at one of them and all. I was asked to speak on a panel called “From Blog to Book.” Thankfully, I wasn’t alone on this panel, because, let’s face it, my credentials for speaking with any sort of authority on the topic are based more on hopes, dreams, and rainbow-and-unicorn fancies than anything else. Luckily, Courtney Tsitouris, the creative mastermind behind City Stories (which, by the way, you should go look at because it’s pretty awesome) was on the panel with me, and she has exactly the right kind of experience. Her first blog, Epiventures, told the story of her life through food, and ultimately led her to opportunities to produce cookbooks for some of the biggest-name chefs in Cincinnati.
Whether I was qualified to speak on the topic or not, I had a great time sharing my experiences as a blogger trying to become a published author. I look forward to the opportunity to do it again sometime.
After 5B, there was a family birthday party to catch in-progress. After that came catching up with my daughter who, after cheerleading at a basketball game earlier in the day, was having dinner with one of her friends for said friend’s birthday.
Sounds like quite a day, right? Yeah, pretty much everyone in the family slept like the dead Saturday night.
Sunday was only slightly less ridiculous, and I ended it with a hockey game and the season finale of Downton Abbey, which I stay up much too late to watch.
For the record, re: Downton, I have only this to say about that: ASDJFA!#$%!$%!$%!$%^&*@@$%!KJ!$%!IU$%IHI%J!$#JRKLFAJSKLFJAKDFJADSF!!!!!
Kindred fans will almost certainly understand the string of expletives.
So, why am I bothering with my weekend itinerary when I’d wager it’s about as interesting to most of you as watching toothpaste harden on a bathroom counter?
Because, weekends like this past one are going to become the norm very soon for the Puddinette and I. When you have several kids, it’s sort of inevitable. Kind of like death, taxes, and that disturbing old-people groan you’ll find yourself doing every morning by the time you reach 40. But 10 years from now—which is a timeframe that once seemed like an eternity to me, but now feels like it’ll be here next month—all this hectic shenanigans will likely be gone.
The Puddinette and I will likely spend our Saturday afternoons doing jigsaw puzzles or something over tea, while wondering what we’re supposed to be doing with ourselves. We’ll probably waste too much of our time spiraling down whatever current internet rabbit hole is the new, exciting thing. I’m hoping for a virtual reality pub where you can jack-in through some kind of Matrix-style goo-pod and have some pints with friends without leaving the house (personal note: somebody get one that).
For now, though, even with the slightly exaggerated rumors of my demise, I don’t feel too badly about mostly missing a weekend of online action. Because until that zombie apocalypse hits, the internet will otherwise always be waiting for me to come right back as soon as I’ve got the time.
So how was your weekend?