Thursday, August 10, 2006
My Goodness, it's been forever since I've been here. Look at all the dust. I'm sorry, I just haven't had the combination of alcohol, time alone at home, and the proper ambiance for posting. I apparently missed all of July. Yowza. Some of what kept me away was good, like going out with coworkers to badmouth other coworkers. Nothing like wallowing in the sin of Lashon Hora for recreational purposes - it's going to be another tough Yom Kippur, comrades. Other fun stuff: Last weekend Spawn of LivingJetlag and I were kicked out of the house by Spouse of LivingJetlag, on the grounds that she needed to get a ton of work done, and wanted the computer and kitchen to herself, and wanted to keep her own hours, blah blah blah. Just because I haven't found her boyfriend's boots under the bed doesn't mean that he wasn't around. I'll have to Google "particularly painful ways to kill a cheating spouse and her lover," but first this meandering post. Apparently, JW Dundee's Honey Brown Lager (Rochester, NY) is just as tangentogenic as my usual cheap red wine, but without the parentheses. I don't think it's any better. Aaaanyway, the SoLJ and I had to pack a quick bag and clear out like the Feds were coming, hop into the rode-hard-and-put-away-without-an-oil-change-or-fixing-the-slow-leak-in-the-right-front-tire Corolla, and headed off without a clue where we were going. Because my daughter is both forebearing and used to me, she totally took it in stride when we ended up in Belchertown, MA. Yes, there is, look it up. It's the home of the Windsor Dam, which holds back the Quabbin Reservoir, as featured in Stephen King's "Dreamcatcher," or even if you're not. We had a blast, biking and spying on random outdoor weddings and mini golf and ice cream and "Pirates of the Carribean, the Long Sequel," which isn't the flop everyone says it is.
Some bad stuff kept me away. Well, not really "away," since I read Bloggercycle all the time, and I love Veiled Conceit and a bunch of other Blogger offerings, but I didn't post. One problem was the fact that the computer lives in the room that is basically a small sunroom. Man, it's been stifling in here. The whole east coast has been turned into a less comfortable version of Guatemala lately, and I just couldn't sit here and type and drink the hours away like I used to. More significantly, though, I had a setback in my confidence. I finally showed this blog to someone. I like the freedom to talk about my life and loved ones without being bound to kindness or strict factual truth, so I have kept this blog to myself, but at some point I was gripped by cruel Pride and curiosity, and started animal testing it. Now, I know that animal testing is supposedly a bad thing, and I'm sure PETA will start boycotting me now, but I'll tell you the truth - I've been animal testing my stuff for a long time now. When I wonder whether my underpants are harmfully staticky, I don't just yank 'em on and hope I don't electrocute my gonads. No, I grab whichever kitty is whining at me that I haven't fed him in an hour, and put the undies on him. If he doesn't scream or go all pufferfish on me, I know they're safe. They routinely test the structural integrity of the dining room table and other furniture for me, though I often wish they wouldn't. Much of the time, I have to yell "FUR IS MURDER" at them until they get the heck down. Still, it's good to know I can put about 10 lb of food on the table and it won't collapse into a heap of splinters. I worry about that, don't you? Anyway, I had the cats read "LivingJetlag," and they didn't laugh, they didn't seem to follow the ideas through my interminable and reduntant paragraphs, mostly they just wanted to get down and then go bathe. My blog made them feel dirty! Wow, worse than I thought. So here I am, 6 weeks later, finally able to get my confidence up to the point where I can torture you. But now, alas, I'm out of beer, and I worry about the headache I'll have tomorrow if I switch to wine, so I'll just sign off here. Check out Veiled Conceit at nytimesweddings.blogspot.com, or plan a trip to Belchertown, MA, which has the highest per capita consumption of root beer in the US, or take the advice of Vance at MassBike and design a magnet on supportourribbons.com, if you still need to kill some time. Thanks for listening.
Your humblest and most devoted servant,
LivingJetlag
