A Farewell to Pioneer Woman

I’m struggling with a decision. It’s a tough one. And really, it’s one that I thought I would never have to come to.

My toes curl at the thought of what I might have to do.

It’s one of those life decisions we all face and I’ll need your help to be strong.

I think…I think…IthinkImayhavetostopfollowingthePioneerWoman‘sblog. *gulp*

Now, don’t get your panties in a bunch. It’s not like I haven’t thought this through.

– I don’t home school. And she rarely writes her own home school posts anyway.

– I don’t cook, at least not very well and apparently I’m not all that inspired to get better.

– I don’t shop at Anthropologie or The Body Shop, nor do I wear her size in order to take part in the fantastical closet cleanings she does.

– My gardening skills wouldn’t be necessarily characterized as skills. And besides, we’re city dwellers. We’ve got a back 40 feet, not acres.

– And, for good reason, she has cut way back on her Confessions posts, which basically leaves me with much less to live for.

I figure pretty much all we have in common is photography and those posts are now often written by other wonderful and talented folks whose blogs I already follow.

Really and truly, in this BFF relationship between me and PW, the “forever” part has been microcosmically short.

I’m sure she’d probably say we hardly even knew each other.

But I thought we had a good thing going.

She’d give away a mixer. I’d stay up nights, dreaming of dusting that shiny little thing so my sister could use it.

She’d post a photography contest. I’d force my children into joyful poses never actually seen in nature in the hopes she’d feature my shot.

She’d take pictures of some dessert she was making. I’d go dip some Nilla Wafers in the Nutella while silently nodding in agreement at the adoring comments.

She’d post about her dog. I’d wonder why anyone would keep a Bassett Hound when they smell so bad.

I’m broken up over it. It’s hard to say goodbye and, quite honestly, I don’t think it’ll be goodbye.

It’ll be more like, see-ya-when-the-house-is-clean-and-the-bills-are-paid-and-the-family-is-fed-and-my-children-have-recovered-from-the-latest-photo-shoot kind of farewell.

It’ll be a see-ya-later, P-Dub.

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