Not like the picture. Still.

You know my memoir, "Not Like the Picture"? Well it applies to so much more than my adventures and disasters in the kitchen. There's this picture of who I am in my head/who I want to be, and then this real me who is, at times, more angsty than I can even stand. I hesitate to unleash thatme on you guys;which is the answer to my online silence. And why my ringer is off. But I'm heading to yoga this morning, after I pick Cheerios out of Sam's hair and Lucy's fur.

p.s. I know this will be a contender for the lamest metaphor award, but sometimes messages come in the bottom of a garbage can. I emptied the trash in Sam's room and there, under the bag, were my sunglasses. I've been looking for all over the house. I'm reading this to mean I should take out the trash more often – mentally, too! (You know, with the whole "future's so bright you gotta wear shades" saying and all).