Y’all, Lulu has tumbled into the Great Depression of Mass Proportions.  If there is such a place as Zoloft Island, somebody needs to put me on a plane there—ASAP—and I’m willing to pay my weight in Girl Scout cookies to get there.  Grab a tissue and let Lulu explain.

You see, I have been working at home for the past six months.  Count them, six torturous months.  The office building where I make a 72-mile round-trip trek to every weekday was heavily damaged during the Great Georgia Flood of 2009.  And to be honest, the damage wasn’t actually caused by the September flooding, but it sounds way more exciting than what actually happened.  We had a water pipe burst causing two inches of water to run amok and flow freely throughout the building.  Lives were not lost, people, but my soul has been deeply wounded.  I have turned into a depressed, hermitized, gluttonous, unhygienic, socially unacceptable, empty shell of a person.  Sad examples:

• On several occasions, I have spent two straight days in a row never changing out of my pajamas—much to GR’s chagrin.
• Some weeks, I never left the house.  God forbid, that would be cause for me to take a shower and apply makeup.  And to change out of pajamas.
• When I do actually get out, it’s generally to the bank drive-through or Wal-Mart.  Two places where it really doesn’t matter if you wear pajamas.  In fact, it’s fairly acceptable.
• The pantry has become my safe-haven of love and support.  Hence, the extra 6 or 7 pounds I have put on.
• I have fallen in love with Drew Carey.  And possibly Judge Judy.
• I spend time at my mailbox of hate waiting on the mail lady to stop by just so I can have someone to talk to.  Some days, I think that she skips my house on purpose.  I can’t understand why.
• I have actual conversations with GR.

Quite obviously, I am not a work-at-home kind of person.  Left to my own vices, I could easily turn into the 1-ton, recluse woman who has to be crane-lifted from her home.  It’s entirely possible, y’all.

I am also severely depressed about the state of my home office.  I have no “before” picture, but let me assure you, it does not look like this:

I cringe at the mere sight of it.  A home office that actually looks like it’s used as a home office.  I am appalled.

Alas, there is good news on the horizon.  On Monday, March 22, Lulu will be freed from this prison.  I will be returning here:

And I will be burning my pajamas.  Unfortunately, they don’t exactly pass the dress code.

For the past couple of weeks (in between desperately trying to upload my lost blog pictures), I have been utilizing the creative side of my incredibly shrinking brain to help plan a baby shower for a cousin’s wife.  And let me preface this by saying that in all of my 39 (eh-hum) years, I have neither attended nor help plan as many baby showers in the span of a 6 month period—four to be exact.  If there’s something in the water, I respectfully and mercilessly request that you serve me a Corona Light with a lime instead.  Lulu does a fairly good job with other people’s babies, but is not so much in need of one of her own at this time.  Been there, done that—have the 20-year old to prove it.

For this shower, we planned a cowboy theme.  Because nothing says cute, cuddly, and baby like this…

Why, hello there Mr. Cowboy!  Unfortunately, he was not in attendance, as I am quite sure he was performing at an entirely different kind of party.  The kind of party that only exists in Lulu’s incredibly shrinking brain.  But I digress.  Our party involved this type of cute and cuddly cowboy…

Which I incorporated into the shower invitations…

I also painstakingly rubber-banded 96 tiny, newborn-size diapers in order to create this cowboy-themed diaper cake.  I’m pretty sure that I’ve lost all feeling in my right index finger and came dangerously close to snapping out an eyeball.  Don’t try this at home, people.

I made Cowboy Cookies for take-aways, which were AMAZINGLY delicious if I say so myself!  The Girl Scout cookies that are camped out in my spare bedroom ain’t got nothin’ on these babies.  Or is that the other way around?  Regardless, the recipe is apparently Laura Bush’s recipe, as posted by Helen over at Cowgirl Cuisine.  For an extra touch, I stuck them on 7″ cookie sticks (while they were still hot), decorated them with chocolate icing, wrapped them in cellophane, tied them up with matching ribbons, and yee-haw!  Cowboy cookies in a basket.

I’m thinking that I could use this idea in the future for a cookie bouquet, no?  Cute, snappy, fun.  Much like Lulu in her twenties.

And we displayed it all on a table covered with a white table cloth topped with a vase of white daisies and cowboy confetti…

Because Lulu is such a control freak and abnormally OCD about party details, I convinced Tiff (my hairdresser, dear friend, cousin’s wife, and cohort in this shower) to color-coordinate the food.  Which she did.

There was actually more food, but I’m quite sure I was spazzed out about a napkin being misaligned and forgot to take a picture.

The cake was made by a young friend of Tiff’s who is just learning pastry techniques and methods.  It was magically delicious, and I think that she did a wonderful job!

It turned out to be a beautiful shower with a fun theme.  And much to my chagrin, not a cookie was spared.  Like Lulu needs another freaking cookie…

Lulu is in some serious trouble. I have approximately 50 cases of Girl Scout cookies holed up in a spare bedroom. I’m storing them for my niece’s Girl Scout troop…

I’m trying to keep the door closed and wish them away, but it doesn’t seem to be working. They continue to taunt me from the other side of the door. Especially the Do-si-dos. They are evil.

Lulu here.  And breathing.  However, not fully functional. 

I’ve taken a year, a full freaking year, off from blogging only to come back and find that my web hosting had expired and that my blog was completely obliterated from the internets. Gone. Sayonara.  Over two years of my life wasted.  And then, I cried.  I cried buckets. 

And then, I found a blog database backup file buried deep within a folder on my hard drive labeled “Recipes.”  So, I cried more. 

And then, I called on Leanne at Intricate Art (the original designer of my blog) who said that she could get me up and running again if I sent her my first born child.  So, I did.  And I cried more.

And lo and behold, I am here again.  Back on the internets, minus a whole bunch of pictures that I have to re-upload and reinsert into the correct posts, which will take me the equivalent of eighteen million years and more buckets of tears.  But Lulu is determined.

I have missed you.