So the Son is off having Adventures, leaving his sad, lonely parents back in Brooklyn. Which means that his sad, lonely parents don’t have the care and responsibility for the Son.

Party time!

We’ve been having Date Night every night since he left, except for one night when we saw our respective friends. We’ve gone to the same chi-chi tequila bar TWICE, had wine and cheese while watching Mad Men, went on a bike ride TOGETHER, went to the movies (!) and saw Inception, slept late, took naps and went shopping.

A good, if exhausting, time has been had by us.

And tomorrow I head to Florida for the Romance Writers Of America’s annual conference, and will be presenting a workshop with Liz Maverick on social networking. See? Like this here? I am networking, socially.

Will post when I can, but my life hasn’t been worth me saying anything about anyway, so likely will not be posting a lot.

This week, the NYC School System is harshing my mellow with a half day, a field day picnic (which I’ll be in attendance at) and a full day off, with an orientation at the Son’s new school.

Oy! When will I have time for complaining, much less work and writing and such?

So I’ll likely be absent from here a lot. I’ve got Work To Do, yes, in an Average White Band way.

Last week, as many of you know, I headed to Portland, OR, to see the Picky Vegetarian. We had a blast, eating at her favorite restaurants, driving to a quirky museum in Washington, stopping at wineries, drinking coffee, and making fun of ourselves and each other.

I got home Friday morning, slept, and then immediately headed to New Jersey for Easter. As most of you know, I am not religious, but I do recognize the importance of respecting others’ traditions, so I was happy to trek down there for crabcakes and ham.

Back in Brooklyn only to realize that the Spawn’s school doesn’t actually resume until Wednesday. Oops. There went those ’start writing again on Monday’ plans. But I did get the repair from Toyota, took my son to Sunset Park to the Asian supermarkets and bought green beans for fifty cents a pound. Score!

He goes back tomorrow. Whew.

Meanwhile, I am feeling sort of energized–sort of–and mildly optimistic about finishing this book by my own deadline.

Yes, close-to-dullest-post ever. But at least there is forward motion.

AND I got the international version of this from Netflix:

I’ve got an ennui-ish kind of illness, a real one, not just Frampton Fatigue.

So today I took TWO naps and moped around. I hope to feel better tomorrow.

Last weekend, my uncle (and Frequent Commenter) Jon and his lovely daughter came to visit. She goes to college in the Washington area, so she missed the big snowstorm. If she were an adult with concerns about shoveling out cars, driveways, getting to work, freezing pipes, etc., she woulda been thrilled; as it was, I think she was mildly bummed to miss the mayhem.

We had a blast. We ate like fiends, laughed, talked, walked, shopped and shared. It was so nice to hang out with family.

Today I booked time to go visit the Picky Vegetarian in the lovely city of Portland, OR. I haven’t been in four years.

Still no writing. I keep posting about it, hoping to shame myself into action, but so far–nothing. Tomorrow is a VERY RARE snow day for my son, so I am working ahead right now so I’m not on the computer all day tomorrow while he’s home. HE doesn’t mind being on video games all day, but I mind him doing so, so I gotta be free for him during some of the day.

Writing. Maybe. Sometime?

I am embarrassed that it is taking me so darn long to edit the stupid synopsis (SS, for short), so I’m not going to post until I can say I’ve actually worked on it, at least.

Meanwhile, amuse yourself in the comments, if you like, by suggesting things I might like to do LESS than write a synopsis. I’ll start:

–Watch a Tom Cruise movie
–eat lima beans
–watch hockey on a small TV
–wear high heels
–read Ayn Rand
–memorize Robert Frost poems

So it’s been two weeks–TWO WEEKS!–since I spoke here, which is crazy. And I haven’t been on Twitter that much, either, except for one evening when the Spouse went out drinking with the boy neighbors.

So anyway. Let’s recap:

Christmas was good; I got fantastic gifts, including pink and brown fuzzy leopard slippers. And a watch, pink and white, which doesn’t look TOO, too young for me. I hope.

New Year’s Eve was nice; full of cheese, wine and champagne.

We’ve begun the terrifying task of cleaning the basement. Oh, joy.

And I am still not sure when I can write, and am trying not to be too discouraged about it all.

So that’s me. How is everyone out there?

Oh, and the end of the month brings:

Is it wrong that I am so excited about the Frampton boys decamping to South Jersey this weekend, leaving me alone in Brooklyn?

Because I am really excited.

This is primarily for the Picky Vegetarian, who worries about me, but also for anyone who might think I’m lolling about being depressed right now; I’m not. I’m way too busy today to post properly, hence my silence.

Sorry to leave the downer post up for a few days, I’ve been touring middle schools and having doctors’ appointments and trying to work on this $%*&^$! synopsis. So here:

Back tomorrow for a real Risky post.

It was pointed out that I’ve been quiet lately, which is true. And I wish I could say it’s because I’m working on some fabulous projects, but it’s much more mundane:

I rejoined Weight Watchers. And I’m too hungry/crabby to post anything fun.

Unlike a lot of folks, I gain weight over the summer. I’m traveling more, walking less, with the son more than I am usually, so not heading to the gym–plus there’s barbecue and wine and such. So I had a last food fling in Philly, with cheese steaks and ice cream and a soft pretzel that made me want to cry, and then I went back to points and baby carrots. It’s going well, but I’m grouchy. Grouchier because I know I should be editing faster than I am, and grouchier still because I cleaned my keyboard, and now my space bar key needs a really hard thump to get it working.

And I still haven’t seen Duplicity.

When I get my groove back on, and am less crabby, you’ll be the first to know.