Thursday, September 1

easily amused

I needed to find out my son's mailing address at school so I could ship all the essentials to him. Here is the email I sent.

Dear post office of institution of higher learning located in another state,

My son is an incoming freshman arriving today from Austin, TX. I would like to ship a couple of boxes to him and would appreciate having his proper mailing address in order to do so.

These boxes will contain clothes, linens and practical items for his dorm room. They will NOT contain any beloved family pets that sleep 23 hours a day, perishable food items from Texas such as jalapeƱo poppers, Hatch green chile pimento cheese salad, Franklin's barbecue or deep fried Oreos and definitely not the slightly smelly crocheted throw from the couch.

Many thanks for your help,
Mary Mary

Tuesday, August 23

Ninho Vazio Means Empty Nest (I swear Portuguese sounds sexier than French)

The Universe spoke to me. (The voice of God is a topic for another day.) Or there are a bunch of things that are making me shift directions. Or I decided not to kill this blog and try something new because knitters have Ravelry and foodies have Pinterest and mommy bloggers have, uh, you get it. You see, now that the Olympics are over my youngest child has left for college, I have all this free time on my hands. So, I can read the paper, schedule appointments any time I want and watch TV in real time on a real TV screen. And this is what has happened so far...

I read this article in the NYTimes about not holding on to anything negative and it challenged the reader to let go of something for a week. I was thinking about the memory of my mom's reaction when she read my journal in high school and found out I was sexually active but opted for letting go of high school entirely. Too bad I can't make most of the late 70s disappear as well.

I saw my doctor for a physical and am now having a slew of tests and scans to establish a thorough baseline. His iPad is newer than mine but my WiFi is waaay faster.

I watched the Mister Rogers and Me documentary on PBS during their pledge drive and knitted during the membership pitches because I didn't have to feed anyone. Awwww, I still miss Tim Russert (who gives a lovely interview).

All of this means that I have officially joined the Group W bench of modern American society where women like me raise babies, feed children, drive carpool, send teenagers off to college and fly under the radar screen until you need my vote.

Yes, friends and neighbors, I am a menopausal-ish, middle-aged-ish, politically-moderate-but-socially-liberal-why-is-abortion-still-an-issue, dye-my-hair-but-wear-it-long, Birkenstock-wearing-because-I-had-bunionectomies-on-both-feet-and-dang-those-sandals-are-comfy, starting-to-crochet-more-than-I-knit,  chicken-wine-swillin', if-you-were-like-some-men-I-wouldn't-need-batteries-oh-gimme-some-sugar, hook-em-Horns, WASP-on-the-outside-and-can-I-be-a-blues-singer-without-any-alcohol-and-drug-issues-on-the-inside, fill-in-the-blankety-blank kind of gal.

Yeah, I'm having lots of fun!