Well, I’ve heard it said it keeps you young — but if you’re sticking your Pocket Rocket in your eye you’re doing it wrong!

Actually, I’ve been near-insane for the last two years, sans details and whining and ranting as I’m not Dooce-ing this, a OMFG stressful time for me in ways that beg manic laughter, hair pulling, and hide-the-weapon. Let’s just say, between you and I (and yes, I realize you is a bigger word than three letters in this case) it’s a damn good thing there has been a hiring freeze here at the Uni., as I’ve been watching the listings that do manage to get through…and the only reason I’ve not run away screaming is the lack in those listings. No, really. I guess the bright thing is I am as close to optimism (as I can manage) re: the new leadership, however. Trying to be happy happy…not quite to joy joy, but I’m making a valiant effort.

So I offer this information, noting that this is in addition to Stress, The Home Edition, to explain that a rather Known job + crap morale = no blogging. I continue to read those I have always followed, but I don’t respond…I figure that living in a perpetual state of well and truly pissed-off does not lend itself to the ability to comment and post anything of relative worth, so I do not. This is the point at which I note the awkwardness of blogging under my own name – I know I’ll see most of y’all in May, after all.

Perhaps after the grand move to WordPress (in progress) I’ll make more of an effort. I’ve been poked to make explanation, so here I am. (Now the poking will cease, yes?) No, haven’t given up on blogging completely, I swear.