Paper Napkin

Do I dare to eat a peach?

I don't really think of myself as old, although I haven't been carded in years. I don't feel old, and I don't really think 43 is considered old unless you're under 18. Nevertheless, there are certain trends I can no longer ignore.

• I often drive 5 miles under the speed limit
• The last thing I want to hear is the baseline coming from the radio in the car next to me.
• I go to sleep at the same time as my 11 year old
• Occasionally I begin a sentence, "When I was your age..."
• I just got my first pair of bifocals

• I say headphones instead of earbuds
• This sounded fun 
• To my mind, sick means ill
• I have never typed ROFL, and very rarely do I use lol
• I don't feel the need to share every feeling I'm having. In fact, I'm increasingly private.
• I don't feel the need to convince people. To wit, many people I know don't "believe" in global warming. I'm not sure HOW they don't believe it, but OK.
• Sometimes I wear my slippers to the grocery store.
• Patriotic songs make me cry.
• The other day I heard a Cure song in the elevator
• My crush on Zac Effron is a little creepy

To complete my journey I just need a few cats, a house filled with HSN items, and more facial hair.

C is for Cookie

As you may be able to tell by Google's main page, it's the 40 anniversary of Sesame Street. I loved it when I was a kid and so did 2 of my 3 kids. Here are my 4 favorite Sesame Street Videos.

Ernie does a little soft shoe

Song about the number 9

R.E.M. sings with monsters

Song about the number 10

I encourage you to click on one of those links, you'll be glad you did.

Let me just apologize in advance.

I'm just going to come right out and say it. I'm hiding in the internet. I know none of you out there suffer from this. None of you spend too many hours surfing the net, staring glassy-eyed at your monitor, but I do. Hanging up my blogging gloves has been a really good decision. I've been present in my real life. I feel better. I function better and am generally happier when I don't spend much time on the internet. My summer was awesome.

And then my kids started school and all that went to hell. Frankly, I miss them terribly. I don't like spending all day everyday alone. I'm lonely. And since apparently I suck at making friends, I've been hiding on the internet since school started. (Yes, I know all about Amanda's foolproof strategy, but I'm a rotten conversation starter, and I don't feel comfortable asking strangers questions. My fear of bothering people is pathological. I'm not kidding. The other day I was in IHOP, I ordered sausage and the waiter brought me bacon, and I said thank you because HE WAS BUSY, AND DOES NOT HAVE TIME FOR MY PETTY TYRANNY. So if I won't impose upon someone I'm paying, what do you think are the chances of me chatting up some stranger on a plane? It's known as Jante Law, and I'm under it, baby.  I've got Norwegian* blood running through my veins, which is probably why I still listen to a Prairie Home Companion, even though it jumped the shark long ago: those are my people. )

(And while we're parenthesizing, I've mentioned I'm short, yes? I'm 4' 10" and I dread it when the grocery stores have sales on 2 liter bottles of soda, because invariably all grocery stores stock their 2 liter bottles on the top shelf, which I can't possibly reach, not even when I try to meditate on ice cream so I will levitate a few feet off the floor. So then I have to STAND THERE waiting for some nice tall person to happen by, and ask them to retrieve some diet Coke, and let me tell you I die a little every time I have to do it. Oh, they say they're happy to help me, and on the outside it looks like they were just tossing lettuce and couscous into their cart, but I know they were ACTUALLY on the verge of solving some complicated theorem which would have cured Swine Flu, and the current pandemic could have been wiped out if only I hadn't needed my precious diet Coke.) 

So, yeah, I'm hiding in the internet. So then I figured, hell, I'm spending so much time here anyway, I may as well start the presses again, and here I am for the next 26 days for your reading pleasure. 

I can't remember where I was going with this. Blah, blah, blah, something, something, something, I need to stop hiding in the internet. And now I'm wondering whether I should even publish this, because you have better things to do than read this drivel. See? Pathological. I told you.

*My maiden name is $irkel. Disguised to prevent Googling

Tomorrow something longer, tonight I'm tired.

Good Evening. Here is a picture of Groucho Marx without his grease-paint eyebrows and mustache.

In case you were wondering what he looked like. Today I wondered what he looked like, so there you have it. It's a soulful picture, I think.

Day 2

OK! I'm all ready to write. Yep. Yessiree, the words are just going to come pouring out of my brain.

Wow. My fingernails are getting really long. I hate it when they hit the keys like this. Better trim them. I can never find the clippers when I need them....

OK! Nails clipped. Aaaalll ready. Except, I need a soda. In my Domo cup. Aw man, the kids drank all the soda. Again? Rats. Wait! I think I remember seeing a can of 7up on my dresser. Sure it's a few days old, but desperate times... Crap. No fizz left. Well, I have some Perrier in the fridge...

Mixing Perrier water with flat diet 7up that's been sitting on your dresser for 3 days isn't a great combo. Even if it is in your Domo cup. I mean, it'll do in a pinch, but its not the drink they're going to be serving at trendy night clubs. 

Alrighty. 

Today I ventured over to Amazon.com to pick up a few things. I bought my beloved a couple of birthday presents, and I bought the girls some jeans, and then I bought some cans of apple juice to pack in the kids' lunches.

Amazon is pretty much the exact replica of an old fashioned general store. Remember on Little House on the Prairie*, how Laura and the family would all pile in the wagon, hitch up Mr Jingles,** and head to the Olsen's mercantile? Mr Olsen would pat their head and give them free penny candy? And then on the ride home, they'd talk about what a bitch Mrs. Olsen was, and how they felt so sorry for Mr. Olsen, the doormat.

Yep, shopping at Amazon is exactly like that, except there's no camaraderie, because you're alone. And there are no handshakes, or head pats, or free penny candy, but there is Super Saver shipping! And of course, you don't have to deal with Mrs. Olsen looking down her pointy beak at you because Nellie is wearing a pink satin dress, and you're wearing a dingy gingham dress. Or in my case, yoga pants. Dingy gigham yoga pants. You can order those on Amazon too.

*the TV show, not the book
**not the horse's real name.