Dear Blog,

Dear Blog,

I have neglected you these last two months and for that I am sorry.

Life has become quite busy, both at work and at home, and I am having trouble finding time for you.
I do miss you. I miss the interaction with other bloggers and I miss the comments you generate.

But do I miss you enough to continue? Sometimes I think yes and other times I think no.

I see your value, the importance of you. I miss the commitment of not only writing, but also reading. I enjoy the reading, the learning what other people are thinking and how their lives unfold. I find it fascinating to get that inside of people’s lives.

But the time, dear blog. My time with my guy is limited and I want to spend every free moment with him. My time at night is even more limited and do I choose my husband or do I choose you?

So for now, dear blog, I believe I will try to pay you – and others – more attention, but I don’t think you’ll get as much love as you once did.

I do hope that is OK.

LisaDay

There Was A Time

There was a time when I was never late.

I was always early – really early.

Because I get anxious when I am going to be late – and grouchy – I always leave myself plenty of time to get where I need to go.

I think it’s rude to be late. I think it shows the person you are keeping waiting that her time is less valuable then yours. I would rather plan for variables – traffic, accidents – leave at least a half a hour earlier then necessary, bring something to do and wait in a parking lot until it’s time to meet the person. If it’s an appointment or an interview, sitting in a person's waiting room for 15 minutes shows you valuable their time and are punctual.

Then I met my husband and I was often late.

He likes to do those last-minute things, you know, water the garden, check to make sure everything is locked, those kinds of things, 15 minutes after we were supposed to leave. It ticked me off every time. So then I started telling him I wanted to leave a hour before we actually did. And I wouldn’t get in the car until he was heading that way himself.

Then we had our guy. If it’s just the two of us, I can get him and myself ready, load the car and feed the cat and be on our way in time for almost everything – except daycare.

This morning I asked our daycare provider if I could drop our guy off early. She said she would get up 15 minutes earlier then normal to take us. And then we were late – by 10 minutes. I felt awful when I dropped him off, terrible as we were driving to work and not that great now.

My apologizes again.

Dad and Daughter Dinner

Saturday marks the 16th annual Dad and Daughter Dinner.

The tradition of my Dad and I going out for dinner started in my first year of college.

I had won a gift certificate at local bar for the best Halloween costume (I was Darkwing Duck, one of Disney’s great cartoons) and I invited my Dad to join me for dinner.

We had a great time talking, just the two of us.

We decided to make it an annual event, a time once a year that Dad and Daughter could spend some quality time together.

The first year, I paid for dinner with my gift certificate and Dad paid the tip. The following year, Dad picked the restaurant, paid for dinner and I picked up the tip, switching each year after that.

I am sure most restaurants were good, some were probably not as great, but regardless of where we go the best thing about the Dad and Daughter Dinner is taking my Dad’s arm and enjoying the company of a man I love very much.