An actual letter from my actual mom

I don't tend to talk about my family that much, for a multitude of reasons that I could get into, but would then feel like I need to pay you per hour to explain.

Today I received an honest-to-goodness letter from my mother in the mail. This is exactly what it said:

Dear Leah:


We're having a cookout here on the 4th of July. Wish you could be with us.
My favorite grilled meat is BRATWURST. How about you?
Thinking of you.
With love,


Mom

Don't believe me? Sneak a peek:

This should help explain just about everything.

Happy and safe 4th everyone.

"We have so much time and so little to do"

Strike that, reverse it. (And I mean that in a Gene-Wilder-as-Willy-Wonka way, not Johnny-Depp-as-some-strange-Michael-Jackson-impersonator-Willy-Wonka way.)

I have been swamped. Slammed. Busy. Insane. Kooky. And a million other things...which helps explain the feast-or-famine nature of my blog. I'm ebbing, baby. Not a lot of flow right now.

I haven't had time to tell you about the annual Bergin's Blue Crew night to Dodger Stadium, which Shannon captured so beautifully with her super cool camera in her blog. My pictures from the same night can be found here.

I haven't had time to tell you about The Police/Foo Fighters concert at Dodger Stadium. Stewart Copeland and Dave Grohl in the same night...I couldn't have planned a better night.

I haven't had time to talk about the new Ryan Adams album, which I can't figure out whether I love or not. Although I feel spurned, and that can't be good.

I haven't had time to tell you about what's going on with my moonlighting job...or that I've been obviously thrown into a new tax bracket by the $30+ dollars that I earned in June...the sweetest and most rewarding $30+ I have ever made...

I haven't had time to talk about how genius "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" is/was. Or how much I'm enjoying the new episodes of The 4400 or Top Chef. Or how enthralled/disappointed I am in "On the Lot." Or to ramble about how much I lloooooovee "Rescue Me" and it's not just because of Denis Leary (but he helps!!).

And why? Because I'm miserable. And happy. And jaded. And inspired. And defeated. And winning. If you can figure any of this out...let me know...I'll be under my desk...crying and laughing. :)