Mary Bellamy

I would have blogged this week. I would have returned to my picture-filled posts of days past. I likely would have started off the week with a picture of the local gas station marquee urging drivers to "Try our pure Colombian." Alas, by the time I got back with a camera, it had been changed. I probably would've referenced Tom's jokes about marching powder when we saw the sign.

I would have told you all about my trip to the chiropractor last week. I would have likened cracking my back to driving a motorcycle over a mile of bubble wrap. Then I would have crowed about how my insurance is paying for massages. I would have assured you that they are desperately, medically needed.

I would have updated you on the happenings at Hidden Hill. That includes the dinner conversations about people who can't let different foods on their plates touch each other. I would have quoted Russ, who used to be like that but has since reformed. It would have looked like this:

I would have told you how I can't quite figure out how to best take advantage of the free tuition, but am leaning toward just amassing a wealth of additional bachelor's degrees. I probably also would have mentioned how my boyfriend rocks because even though he had a stomach virus, he installed my new battery and pad in my vehicle. In the dark. In the cold.

I would have done a lot of things, if only I'd had the time.