Scary

I walk into Mini-Pirate's room, carrying an armload of clean laundry not really paying attention to my surroundings.  It's a warm and bright Spring afternoon, and her room is a cozy nest of light, color, and fuzzy stuffed animals, as usual.  A very comfortable environment.

I stop.  I stand in the middle of the room.

Something is not right.

I look around.  I feel a strange creeping sensation at the back of my neck, icy fingers.  Possibly Icy Fingers of Doom.  At the very least, Lukewarm Fingers of Possible Disgruntlement.

I feel as if I am not alone in this room.

I glance around, increasingly nervous.  Everything looks normal. The menagerie of stuffed animals on the bed looks normal, not a bear, bunny or penguin out of place.  Books are stacked on shelves, arts and crafts supplies spilling off Mini-P's work table, as usual.  Nothing seems out of the ordinary.

And yet... I feel a sense of foreboding.

The closet door is closed.  Is it usually closed?  No?  Is that why my spidey sense is tingling?  Is that why my parental instinct to protect and/or run away screaming is starting to bristle beneath my skin?  Could it be possible that... someone is hiding in there?  Some sort of Ghostface-esque invader who likes to enter rental houses in nice neighborhoods at 2:00 in the afternoon, the perfect danger hour, since no innocent resident would ever expect a butcher-knife wielding maniac at such a time?

That's just silly, Pirate, I say to myself.  There's no one hiding in my daughter's closet, crouched behind that gigantic pile of laundry and leotards with a big knife.

I open the closet door, a quick yank.  My breath catches.

No one there.

I drop Mini-P's clean jeans onto the shelf and close the closet door behind me.  Of course there was no one there.  That would be ridiculous.

Under the bed, though... that's very different.

Mustering every thread of bravery I can pull from deep within my SOUL, I hunch over and peer under Mini-P's bed, ready to see an evil leprechaun, or a demon clown doll with glowing eyes, grinning at me.

Nothing.

I stand again, surveying the room.  There's nothing out of the ordinary here.  Truly.  Everything looks the same.

Yet different.  The more I gaze around, the more it feels like my daughter's room is actually a movie set made to look just like her room, to fool me.  That if I push away the props and knock over a couple stage flats, I'll find a diabolical new setting, maybe an evil mastermind creature lounging in a Director's chair, rubbing his hands together and laughing at me.

That's what it is.  This feeling, I realize.  Someone is watching me.

I slowly turn, 180 degrees.  And when I do, that's when I see.  Right there, on the wall.  It's eyes have been boring into my back the entire time, while I unsuspectingly looked everywhere else, like Drew Barrymore in the beginning of the first Scream movie.  Poor, naive, stupid, stupid Drew.  Now I know how she feels, the scream that caught in her throat when she saw the face of pure evil staring at her.

I see the face before me.  He has invaded my daughter's room, her life, and all our lives.  We are the last household in America to fall, I realize.  He looks right at me, ready to laugh his maniacal laugh, tear his way right out of the poster taped to the wall, and forcibly enter the room:

He's in the house.  He has finally come for my daughter.

Bad Blogger

Psst.

(Cracking open door with a slow creeeaaak, peering into blog discreetly)

Hi.

Are you still there?

Hi.

I've been away.  I'd like to tell you that I've been on a mysterious and exotic journey.  I'd like to make you wonder if maybe I've been gone because I've been so busy fulfilling my duties as a secret, globe-hopping crime boss.  I could be the Keyzer Soze of the blogosphere.  You can't prove otherwise, right?  The greatest trick I ever pulled was convincing the world I don't exist.  ("And like that, poof:  he's gone.")

Ok.  Maybe not.  Still. My last post was February 24th, seven weeks ago.  For those of you who have emailed me asking where the hell I am, thank you.  I appreciate your asking.  I'm still here.  SaucyWench and the mischievous Mini-Pirate are also here.  Everyone is well.

I haven't taken such a long break from blogging since I launched the Good Ship Didactic almost three years ago.  I haven't posted here, or on DadCentric, or on Culture Brats.  (Bad blogger.  BAD.)  The Big Cheeses at both sites are being very patient with me while I'm on this hiatus, and I want to thank Pet Cobra and Chag for that, a lot.

And you people have been very busy, haven't you?  A lot seems to have happened in my absence.  Apparently the world does not stop when the Pirate pauses to tend to Life Stuff.  I can make my peace with that.  Blogs written by pals of mine have flourished and gained readers, which makes me happy.  If you want to read some good stuff, funny stuff, insightful stuff, check out my blogroll to the right.  These are good folks, folks.  I have not being keeping up with them as I should.  I hope you are, though. I plan to make my rounds soon, and apologize profusely for my neglect.

There have apparently been some kerfuffles in in the blogiverse that I missed during my hibernation:  something about some Mom collective creating an award or a list of Best Dad bloggers, or some other such deal?  Which created some animosity, or bad vibes?  Not sure what that was about, but it sounded like yet another way to turn the creative, cathartic act of blogging into a competition.  Not a fan.  I'm glad I missed that.  I've never liked those situations, and not just because I never make the lists.  (To make a Top Blogger list, you have to... erm, blog.  Which, again, I have not done for seven weeks.)

There was a big-time blog conference out in New Orleans last weekend, yes?  Some buddies of mine from DadCentric attended and spoke at Mom 2.0.  I hear that my esteemed bro-in-dadhood BetaDad in particular pretty much rocked the event like Elvis.  (Or maybe Sting.)  BlogHer is happening this summer here in my own San Diego.  I want to go to that, although I can't say for certain that I'll be able to.  I'd like to, though.  I've made a bunch of bloggerific friends over the last couple years, who I'd love to meet face to face.  So I may still try to attend the drinking and socializing parts of that event, if nothing else.

I don't plan to talk about what's kept me out of the loop for seven weeks, at least not for a while.  (There is no health crisis, no one is sick, no one has a strange lumpy growth.  Everyone is fine here, so do not worry.)  But I'm just about ready to resume regaling you, my hearty crew members, with stories of the Mini-Pirate's major adventures, creative new excuses my college students have given me for late work, and the various ways I retain my title as Dorkiest Guy In All the Land.  I'll be back at DadCentric and Culture Brats again too, if the Powers that Be haven't replaced me with a talking monkey, or Justin Bieber.  (That damn kid is everywhere.  Including on my daughter's bedroom wall.  More on THAT soon.)

I'm very glad you're out there.  Just so you know.