Mayor of funkytown

I am in a funk.

And not a good funk, like the funky chicken. What on earth is a funky chicken? It's a dance, apparently. I've never seen the funky chicken dance. I think if someone asked me, "Hey. Do you want to try the funky chicken?" I would probably run, thinking that they were going to serve me a dish of chicken past it's prime.

But I digress.

I've just not been feeling so hot lately. I haven't been able to get back in my workout routine. I haven't even been running since I got back from the magnificent defense. The glory of that moment has faded and I haven't been able to get any work done at all, except for some minor revision work. I haven't been able to tackle the "BIG IMPORTANT TIME-SUCK STUFF" yet. The weather has been rainy and freaking cold.

Oh, there's been some fun. Had a great ladies' night at the Cheesecake Factory, where I had a delightful pomegranate margarita. Mmmmm, margarita. And my oldest daughter turned 3 and had a successful birthday party (if you define success where no one cried, the adults had fun and enjoyed the food, no one got a boo-boo, and I realized that I can no longer host children's birthday parties without the aid of Valium and/or Xanax and/or pomegranate margaritas...then it was a resounding success).

But it hasn't been enough. I'm just feeling...blah.

I hate feeling blah because I have so much to be thankful for. My children. Our health. Our jobs. Our home. Our friends and family. I am so blessed. And yet, I'm blah.

So instead of posting sub-par blahness, I will post some stories. I'll try to entertain. And I will, I promise, get pictures of the once-infamous-now-forgotten-1st birthday cake, the drunk blog, and whatnot. If I can get ahold of a map out of funkytown. Because really, I never asked anybody if they wanted to take me to funkytown...