Having a toddler and blogging is hard work.  Especially when there are other considerations like job, house, family and whatever to take into account.  And then there's the actual interest and drive that one requires to actually write a blog.  I have the interest but not the drive.  By the time I get home from work, have dinner, spend time with Henry, put him to bed, do the dishes and/or tidy up enough so that Elisabeth will feel that I'm pulling my weight in a somewhat passable way, all I'm really thinking about is TV, internet, wine, video games, beer or some combination of the above.

Blogging just doesn't feel like the kind of fun escapism that I'm looking for largely because all by entries work in the following way:  I get an idea; start tapping away fueled by hate; attempt (generally unsuccessfully) to transfer that hate into humour and then get bogged down in the specifics of grammar or a particular word which I don't feel conveys the exact emotional meaning I'm trying to express.  Then I get distracted and by the time I get back to the entry in question (At which point 48-72 hours have passed), I realize that what I was writing was a parade of tirade which doesn't befit my demographic as I am neither a spotty teenager or a cantankerous old bastard.

Feel free to disagree with the latter.

With that in mind, I've set a series of New Years resolutions for myself, all of which are practical, boring and a secret so that come April, I'll be the only person out there who knows what an abject failure I am.  Suffice to say, a little blogging is on the menu.  With luck I'll be able to fart something out weekly.  At least that's the goal.  Come April, I'm sure the blog have collected a nice layer of dust..