So I guess I'm here to tell you all that I have proved once and for all that the earth is - in fact - not flat.And how do I know this?
Because, no matter what you may think, I didn't fall off the face of it.
I just took a break. An unplanned, undeclared, unprovoked, uncharted blogging break. And, yes, funny as it may seem that my last blog post was titled In a Rut, my life has been far from that since.
So what has A Mom on Spin been doing in these two long months? you may ask.
Let's see. . . .
I worked every day for six weeks straight. . . discovering how to put in eleven hours at the office and still put dinner on the table. . . after the abrupt departure of one of my co-workers. Thank God it wasn't one of the priests who left, though. I'd have a heck of a time hearing those confessions with a straight face.
After struggling with the Dickens biography Drip Dry gave me for Christmas, I went on a reading spree and read Bleak House, Nicholas Nickleby, and Oliver Twist. But - alas - when I returned to the biography, it was still as boring as ever. Let's face it. Some books just were not meant to be read. (Did I hear someone say Ulysses????)
I discovered Quinoa. And does anyone know why those little white wormy things appear when you cook it?
I gave up on tap-tap makeup and returned to my comfort zone in the drug store.
I co-signed for Veggie's brand spanking new car. I do have to admit that I would have given the car a different name if I were Veggie. "Ken" is a bit effeminate for the white, sexy, hunk of machine that he is. . . but who am I to judge?
In celebration of St. Patrick's Day I watched Angela's Ashes and discovered my new favorite phrase. . . A Fiddler's Fart. . . as in, I don't give a Fiddler's Fart why you parked that fecking car in front of my garage! You'd better move that metrosexual of a car now! (Oh. . .and I should also warn you that I've also taken a fancy to the word fecking. . . wouldn't you???)
Just yesterday I embarrassed Ponzi in the nail salon. Did anyone ever notice that those pedicure chairs are hard to climb out of? Especially with slippery feet.
I became a great aunt for the second time. . . and then forgot to tell Trigger that her cousin had a baby. When she sent me a text that read, Thanks, fam, for telling me that Kendra had her baby! I replied, You are welcome! I could do this because I also learned how to add punctuation to text messages on my phone. (And you thought I was in a rut????) As a matter of fact I could have even responded You're welcome! but I chose the more-formal You are. . . just for kicks.
I saved myself gobs of money in future therapist bills by letting Ponzi stay home from school on the appointed day that an unknown gunman had threatened to shoot fifteen people in her high school. My first inclination was to make her stand tall and not give in to cowards who write things on bathroom walls, but then I pictured her. . . years later. . . lying on a therapist's couch. . . .recounting how her mother didn't love her. . .just look at the fact that she made her go to school on the day of a threatened school shooting. Needless to say, Ponzi got a day off. . . even though her mother hadn't had a day off in a very long time.
Oh, and did I tell you that got my very own office . . . and a raise?
I also renewed my practice of centering prayer . . . realizing that I don't need to be wearing yoga pants while doing it.
So I think that's about it. Thanks to all of you who worried about me in my absence. And as to the rest of you who didn't? Let me just say that I don't give a fiddler's fart about what you thought, 'cause I am, still remain, and always will be . . .
