Here

Remember in school when your teacher would read out the roll. Wasn't it called "roll-call"? I can't remember. I am getting older.

Anyway my blogging has become more sporadic. I used to post a few times a week, at least. Now it seems I've been down to once a week or so...or less. So I'm just responding to the roll-call to let you know that I'm..."here!"

My sister, who used to only post once every few months (or so it seemed) has all-of-a-sudden started blogging regularly. It is fun to read her writing, to see her style. I guess that is one of the many ways in how you can come to know someone. Through their writing. For most people, I assume, write what is them. Perhaps some mask their true selves; but for many I think writing is a way to unleash your true self in a controlled, yet very free (if you let it), way.

Well that sister of mine complained that I'm not blogging anymore. Sorry. I am here. I've just been busy.

You: "What with, Prone-girl?"

Me: "Wow; you are pretty nosy today, aren't you?"

You: "Yes. But that is the whole point of blog-stalking. If you weren't okay with me being somewhat nosy, you wouldn't have begged and bribed me to read your blog or left it out in the open for any bird to perch on."

Me: "I didn't beg."

You: "Okay, you didn't beg!"

Me: "Sarcasm doesn't look good on you."

You: "It's just that you were the one who came into my home, got into my computer, hacked into my blog-reader account and added your blog to my list."

Me: "How did you know that?"

You: "Well, while you are a ninja, and can break into homes, hack into high-security computers, and have the audacity to be so bold as to add your blog to my list....I have cameras. And you forgot your mask."

Me: "Dang! I knew I had forgotten something."

You: "Yes, and not only that, but your constantly asking me if I have read your post, like I have nothing better to do with my time."

Me: "Okay, you have me there."

You: "Then you promised me cookies for reading your posts and giving you periodic reports and "funny-ratings" as you call them."

Me: "Alright, alright. I am ashamed. A little. Okay, I don't know shame."

You: "Now will you please tell me what you have been up to? Come on Prone-girl. You know you want to tell me. That is why you are posting something."

Me: "....okay."

(Clearing our throats because of the awkward silence and our first literary-lovers spat which clearly, you won.)

Well. Let's start with last month, since this is only the first day of this month and nothing (of note) has happened (yet).

We started looking at houses last month. Being in a small town, there aren't a whole lot of choices. Not that there weren't a lot of homes to look at (we looked at about twenty, plus entertained the idea of building, came up with floor plans and did a lot of research on materials, plus looked at plots of land), but we wanted to stay in our small town so that Geoff could continue to have a short commute to work and Annalise could stay at her school. So we are now in the middle of the process of purchasing a home.

I've been picking out paint colors. I didn't realize the agony I would feel over the freedom to do whatever I want. I'm scared to make a mistake. I love color, yet I fear choosing the wrong shade. I know it's only a matter of painting over it if I don't like it; I just want to get it right the first time.

I've been devouring gardening books. Right now I'm reading books on square-foot gardening, companion gardening, vegetable gardening, organic gardening and just plain gardening.

We went furniture shopping for our 10th anniversary last week. It was romantic. I called it our "Furniversary" and we had some fun. Geoff was going to get me flowers and I said no. Not this year. Though it marks a decade, and that is somewhat significant (because it is an even number and the first of the "ten" series, and there is another word for it -decade-, is that why it is significant? It is just one more year than nine and one less than eleven. If ten is a big deal, then eleven is a greater deal? do you love my long tangents in parenthesis and now are wondering what started this parenthesis and hoping you can get back into the loop of what I was talking about in the first place? This is such a no-no in my book. And yet, look at me. Not only starting and finishing and starting new sentences in a parenthesis, but starting those sentences with "And"...I'm a rebel. You really don't want to get mixed up with the likes of me. You should stop reading. Or I should stop this parenthesis tangent) I felt that Geoff buying me a home and furnishing it was much bigger than roses and we should not waste our money on that. Though I did tell him that if peonies were in season, I would be sad not to receive peonies.

Peonies are my favorite. Look how pretty. They are so soft and feminine. Lush. Their fragrance is incredible, too.

Wow. After that long parenthesis I'm all worn out.

I'm guess you are too.

You: "Yes, Prone-girl. Why did you go with that long parenthesis? It was out of control and disrespectful to me."

Me: "I'm sorry. Maybe it is my channeling Virginia Woolf for just a little bit. Breaking the norm a little."

You: "Okay, but her Stream-of-Consciousness writing was intelligent. Your long parenthesis was self-indulgent."

Me: "Well. That's me. Self-indulgent."