Okay, so I know that, once again, I'm being remiss about posting. It's not intentional, because I really like spending time here. I think I've figured out the problem. Since I only like to talk about me, and not much has been happening in my life lately, you get nothing. Zippo. Boohoo for you, I guess, but really it's so hard on ME when I'm boring! I start feeling tempted to tell stories about my cat, or take you on another whirlwind adventure into my very complicated psyche, including an in-depth over-analysis of all my little problems (woohoo!), or just post a bunch of cute pics of my nephew.

It's agonizing for me, actually, because I have a sneaking suspicion that: A. My cat is not a fascinating topic for the blog. My friends and family, as well as the other people I don't know who are kind enough to read this, will talk amongst themselves, albeit briefly, about how I've turned into one of those sad, crazy, single women who lives for her cat and can't resist talking about it like it's her child. They'll wonder if I've started to carry pics of Kit-tay in my wallet to show to strangers on the bus, after I've stopped singing along to Kelly Clarkson's Since U Been Gone (no Ryan Adams, Marcel). That's depressing. I'm not quite to that stage yet. I mean, I told the AARP to step off for another 20 years or so. Why go there with the cat? B. *Sigh* Frankly, I think you all can agree that I've spent enough time--for now--journeying through my psyche with you along for the ride. Thanks for indulging me, though. If you think I'm done for good, don't fool yourselves, because I'm not. I am very, very deep, you know. Har har. But, I've made a renewed commitment to shallowness for the time being, and my goal is light, entertaining stories for everyone! Yay! C. Except for my mom (Hey, Mom!), and maybe a few other family and friends who can't get enough of the Trav man, I get the feeling peeps wouldn't mind a little less kid, and a lot more juicy gossip, on the blog.

Fine.