Every writer who blogs suggests that if one is to blog one must develop a platform. “Have something to say,” they say. “Have something to tell people and make them come back.”

All I have to say to that advice is, “Well, crap.”

I don’t have any real platform to climb upon. You want writing advice? There are a thousand other writers out there who have more experience and better means of imparting information than I. You want derby advice? Who doesn’t? Go stare at a picture of Suzy Hotrod for a while, watch some bout footage, and then go put on your skates and try out the stuff you liked. You want renovation advice? Don’t start gutting your 1920’s house. It’s a can of worms you will never again close. Seriously. Leave It Alone. 

See? None too helpful, am I? That’s why I simply rant. I grew my blogger page for years and then decided Google was evil and moved over here. Now I must start again. But I really don’t feel like it. It’s not that I don’t like you guys. I totally do. It’s just that there comes a point between writing words that will make me money and writing words that will waste the time and eyeball strength of three people who are nice enough to keep reading the crap I spew out the few times a year I manage to do so. Right now, I’m choosing to write the words that make me money (or have the potential for doing so).

There are some hopeful prospects on the writing front that I can’t quite divulge to you, yet. But, things are looking up. Until I get a handle on those things, though, I don’t feel I have enough to tell you to make it anywhere near interesting. So, I won’t even try.

In place of a platform, then, I’m just going to give you a rundown of what’s been going on with Avery these past few months: I still play roller derby for our league’s All-Star team. We’ve had five bouts, lost one. Two more to go before the season ends. We expect to win both. I’ve played at DuBurn’s Arena against Charm City’s Female Trouble. That bout was broadcast on the Derby News Network (a big deal) and we won (a HUGE deal). We have an away bout on Saturday in Pennsylvania and then a home game for our b-team on Sunday, which might make my head explode as I am the chairlady of the bout production committee (that means if some key item or detail is forgotten for the bout it is my fault).

The Architect and I have been working on our house. For three weeks we had our bed on the living room floor AND the entire contents of our kitchen pantry surrounding it as we gutted the upstairs bedroom, removed the floor (kitchen ceiling) and tore out the plaster and upper cabinets in the kitchen. We ate off of plastic plates until two days ago when the kitchen was returned to a sort of stasis while we continue with the bedroom. That’s how we work, renovation-wise–get it “good enough” and then move on to the next thing. We’re reverse locusts.

Oh, and I watched part of that Grizzly Man documentary this morning. I was disturbed.

I think I might now be as scared of bears as I am of whales. 

Yeah, right.  

But I don’t ever want to see a bear in the wild. I suck at climbing trees. I would just dangle from the first limb and be a piñata for the bear. A big, blood-spewing piñata.

And that is my completely platform-free post.

Enjoy.