So I haven’t really had anything to talk about lately, in case you were wondering, but I’m making an effort to be more sociable. Earlier I called a friend and went out to lunch with my husband, and now here I am on the internet, talking to you all. I’m like a butterfly! (The social kind!)

You know what I should be doing right now? Practicing my clogging. Our group is supposed to perform at a retirement home on Dec. 17. As of now I know exactly one routine (mostly), and they are trying to teach me another one that other people already know but I, the greenie, do not. I don’t like referring to myself as a “greenie.” I like it better than “newbie,” though, so I’m going to stick with it. The trouble is that I’m so tired. So, so tired. I want to tell you something about clogging: it is a little more aerobic than tapping. I mean, tapping is certainly aerobic, assuming you’re doing it right, but clogging seems to be inherently more hoppy-and-jumpy, which makes it super-exhausting. I force myself to go to clogging every Monday even though I can barely keep my eyes open, and then about halfway through the class I feel like I’m going to pass out. I have not yet actually passed out. But I haven’t been dancing very well either.

I also haven’t found clogging shoes yet. This is the funny thing: There are very limited opportunities for tap-dancing adults in the Portland metro area, but the Portland metro area is lousy with places to buy tap shoes. By contrast, there are many opportunities for clogging adults in the Portland metro area, but if you want to buy clogging shoes, you need to watch for a pair to come up on eBay. It doesn’t make any sense. But there it is.

I don’t feel remotely confident about my ability to learn these routines before Dec. 17. Especially if I’m just sitting on my fat can writing dumb blog posts about how I don’t feel like dancing. OH YES, YOU THOUGHT THE IRONY WAS LOST ON ME BUT YOU WERE WRONG.

Technically, the friend I called earlier is not a close friend. I was just offering to watch her kid for her. But that’s a thing. It’s sort of social.

It’s time to start Christmas shopping. Sugar Daddy and I went to the Hot Topic after lunch to find stuff for Princess Zurg. I always feel like an idiot shopping in the Hot Topic. I know it’s for posers and crap, but that’s not the point. The point is that I’m so aware of the fact that I’m someone’s mom shopping for dark-edgy-cool stuff for her kid. It’s just so dorky. I mean, I am a dork, and most of the time I think I’m okay with it, until I walk into the Hot Topic. Then I just feel like announcing to everyone that I know I’m a dork, I’m just shopping here ironically.

I tried to order SD’s Christmas present when I got home, but I couldn’t find his wish list on the Amazon. I tried his e-mail address (at least what I assumed his Amazon-related e-mail address was) and got nothing. I tried his name and got maybe seven “Sugar Daddy”s, none of whom was him. I’m just assuming none of them was him because one of them had an October birthday and the others all had stuff on their wish lists like Ocean’s Thirteen and The Best of Chris Farley and Master the EMT Basic Exam. I should just get him one of those things. They all sound pretty good, right?

Well, I have about fifteen minutes before it’s time to get Girlfriend from school. Make that thirteen minutes. That’s almost time enough to put on my tap shoes and practice clogging for five minutes and then change back into my regular shoes and get in the car. Or it would have been, if I hadn’t spent the last sixty seconds typing that sentence. Damn my procrastinating heart! Gentle readers, adieu.