Whew. It’s been about six months since my last posting on Ye Olde Brookeshelf. That last bit of book chatter was created right about the time that somebody nominated me to be a “Thinking Blog.” (There’s been a rumor going around that I, um, think.) What happened, you say? Well, my pregnancy became very complicated (let’s say it involved the phrase “aortic dissection,” yeesh) and suddenly blogging just didn’t seem like a priority anymore. Plus, my posts had sprawled into these long mini-theses that took forever to write. It took me three hours to write the flippin’ endless post on Brian Selznick, alone.
So I took a break, and it felt great. That is, until just about everyone I knew started moaning and complaining about the death of the blog. It’s wasn’t pretty. Most of them were along the lines of “but I just finally figured out how RSS feed works! You can’t DO this to me!” etc.
But the delivery was beautiful, the baby (my third) is a happy two-month-old, and I can finally begin to eaaaase myself back into blogging. Ease. No more three hour post-a-thons. Brevity is the soul of wit. Or, better yet: brevity is . . . wit.
Oh, and in case you’re wondering:
Yeah, ain’t he a great one, though?