The What's Up.

I go through spurts of time where I forget that I write here, in this space. I actually write all the time. In my head. I guess it's just what I do. But then I have these time gaps where I can't seem to find the energy to put the words onto the page. After about a week, I convince myself that all my blogland friends must miss me. Or, at least that's what I tell myself.

So, I feel the need to catch up. You know, let you in on the goings-on. I'm sure you really don't care, but I insist you must...

I'm officially a model. Yes, it's true. Not the runway kind. The sit-for-your-talented-friend-who-is-an-artist kind. Oh, and her artist group of friends. Let me give you a little secret about the modeling world: It's hard. M'kay? Here's the deal-- I couldn't talk. Like, at all. And I had to hold still so they could correctly paint my striking features. Crazy hard. And totally awesome. I've asked my kids if they want my autograph. They're disgusted. And now I think I need a more regal name. Her Majesty?

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The Daughter Who Must Not Be Named (but her name rhymes with 'Belly') jokingly threatened to hide my Kindle. I told her that if that ever happens, I'll put on the robe I wear when I dye my hair (that used to be my mother's!) and come to the school during her lunch hour.

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I used glitter.

This may not seem monumental to you. But, it is. I loathe glitter. I've banned it from my home. And yet, I bought some and actually touched it. This is a huge deal. Like, end of the world kinda deal. One by one, my kids walked into the kitchen and just stood there, speechless. It was fantastic to watch.

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Every year, every stinking year, I convince myself that this school year will be different (that's code for- Better than all the other years). My record of remaining in that delusion was 17 days. And guess what? This year I made it to day 22. The bright side? A teacher contacted me instead of the Principal. Small gifts of goodness.

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I had a biopsy taken of my head. Well, not my whole head, just this little section on the top of it. And now I have this fear that the doctor will call and tell me that I'm officially crazy. That they can now scientifically prove it. My mom sweetly reminded me that it doesn't take a microscope or a genius to figure that out.

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My sister has this lovely weakness for buying me gifts. I rather like this flaw of hers. She bought me a weeble-wobble nativity. I think they're amazing. I'm pretending that they're gourds. It's still hot enough outside to wear shorts and flip-flops, and I have baby Jesus and His entourage sitting on my counter. That makes me either cool or weird. I can't decide which.

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We are addicted to Duck Dynasty. I know we are getting on board late in the game. But seriously, pure awesomeness. Rednecks are the new vogue. For reals.

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And lastly, a picture from the past. It showed up in a pile of old photos. This is Child #3 at the age of 3, in a cow costume the neighbors gave her. It's priceless.