The truth is that I was going to write more this year. That was what I said in January, and we’re five months down the road. Oops.
I miss writing, but mostly I miss being the kind of woman who had her shit together in order to be funny. Those were good times! A mention of Beekey took me down a wormhole of my own thoughts the other night, and it really was like meeting an old friend for coffee. I was like, “Man, this lady is AWESOME.” And she was! I was! I am, even now, for the mere fact alone that everyone is alive and breathing and fed and bathed on a semi-regular basis.
Let’s see. I’ll try to catch you up.
There are three kids in my house now. They range from high school to elementary school to daycare. They demand on eating EVERY day and I’ll be damned if they aren’t growing ALL the time. I guess none of this is new since Vinnie will be two next week and I’ve written in the last six months.
I still don’t math very well. People are always trying to make me math and, you guys, no Bueno. I can do very basic stuff at work, like “follow the blue and red lines to determine value”, but I can’t figure out tip. (I consider overtipping a karmatic approach to this.)
I am suddenly old. OKAY, PARDON MY USE OF THE TERM IF YOU ARE IN FACT OLDER THAN ME. But I am oldER than I was, and I think that your age substantially increases two-fold for every year you age. All music is suddenly too loud, all manner of dress is inappropriate, and I used and genuinely meant the phrase “in my day” at work recently. I mentor younger employees to “not end up like” me, as if I am speaking from Miss Havisham’s sitting room.
Time for a cute baby pic.
Followed by my Tony, who was Jim Henson in the living museum at his school recently, permanently cementing himself as My Favorite (At Least For Now).
Jack’s lacrosse team dominated the North Alabama league this year, which was REALLY awesome!
And this is EVERYBODY.
I think I plan to write something every night, before I go to sleep, Doogie Hower style. Technology has evolved enough that I can make that work.
And years from now, I’ll be so thrilled to revisit this exhausted, cynical Me again.