Ah, Internet

So, Twitter. I logged into it and as it turns out, I already have an account. In fact, I’ve already twittered before. My twitter said “Migraines are God’s way of saying “take a break””
I don’t even remember doing that, so the migraine must have been pretty bad. However, I decided to make a joke and imply that I might have been drunk when I signed up for twitter. Which is silly, since I only listen to iTunes and get maudlin when I tie one on. Which is, you know, practically never.
It’s odd. Most of the in-earnest, serious bloggers I read get pretty frank about their real life. I feel very constricted, which probably means I shouldn’t do this but I enjoy it and appreciate the challenge of making something into a compelling read without spilling too many of my private beans.
I mean, work is out. Definitely. One thing we’ve learned from the honorable Heather Armstrong is that blogging about work can definitely get you into trouble. I should know myself, I got in trouble a few years back just venting my frustrations about my boss on myspace. I erased a lot of really hilarious material in my scramble to keep my job, so I’ve vowed to be clever so that I can keep it.
Family is mostly out too, in that I certainly can’t vent. I can, however, if I ever become popular, help my family through my writing, so that’s something to look forward to.
So, Internet. I’m still trying to figure out how to entertain you.


Well, it’s been forever, and I guess that’s OK. I mean, nobody’s pining away for news on me. Which is a good thing. Because that would be sorta creepy.

We’re back from Georgia and it was a really nice trip. We went to visit the hubby’s dad and stepmom (henceforth known as the PIL – parents in law) and although 10 hours up and back in the car is sort of devastating, LaGrange Georgia is a nice town and the PIL are lovely and wonderful people.

Surprisingly, even though I took a lot of photos of STUFF, I didn’t take a lot of photos of the PIL and me and Dwight. I guess it didn’t seem appropriate, or something. Dwight took a lot of picture of the FIL because one of the whole reasons we were down there was to go to this singing concert of the FIL. He’s in a singing group called The Sons of Lafayette and they are really quite amazing. Check them out.

It was quite a production. Eileen, my stepmom-in-law (which is too complicated to say every time, and she calls me her daughter-in-law, so I will call her mom-in-law or MIL and let it just be known that I have two of those. So, Eileen will be MILE and Judy (Dwight’s mom) will be MILJ. It’s like all of the sudden I’ve assigned Myers-Briggs test result acronyms to my family). Bygones.

Anyway, for this concert, Eileen was supposed to take tickets. The tickets were yellow, and they had places where you could fill out your name and address, because right after intermission there was going to be a door prize drawing. The door prizes were a dinner for two at the local Italian restaurant, dinner for two at the local IHOP, and one other one that I can’t remember. But wait. I’m getting ahead of myself.

When we got to the place, Gary was late so he had to run to get into the big group photo.

So anyway, Eileen was going to take tickets, so instead of just sitting around (which I’m not too talented at), I just decided to help her. That was fun. There were Scottish people, and an older lady flirted with me, and everybody was nice and friendly and in a good mood. They were going to a concert, after all. It was big doings.

So, the concert started and they were really great. There were a couple of wardrobe changes, and the last one was a change for their “rock and roll” segment of the evening. They sang “Splish Splash” and “Da Doo Ron Ron” and some other oldies but goodies. They had to wear plastic hats.

Notice how the other guys have their hats on like cheap detectives, while my FIL takes the alternate route and wears his like a pilgrim hat. Adorable.

More to follow on our flea-marketing and antiquing adventures, and also about the car ride itself. I know you can’t wait…

Update and Back Into the Swing

I finally finished the semester with two A’s. Yes, the hellish paper is finished and was deemed worthy. I got an A- on it, presumably because I didn’t do 100% documentation. I documented my sources, but not correctly in all cases. I think MLA format was invented by the devil.

Today is Mother’s Day, so I give a big shout out to the woman who birthed me and put up with me for all these years. I’m sitting on her couch listening her talk to my aunt (her sister), like she does every Sunday from 12:00 PM – 1:00 PM. It’s a hard day for my aunt. It’s the anniversary of her daughter’s death from ovarian cancer, and it’s a cruel trick of fate that it would fall on Mother’s Day this year. It will again in 2014. One month later is the anniversary of my aunt’s GRANDDAUGHTER’s death in 2005 – a freak accident that happened several years after her mother (my aunt’s daughter) died. Sad…this time of year is very sad. I guess the bright side could be that it makes you more appreciative that you have your family and you have the friends you do (if you do), but I wonder what possible consolation there could be for someone like my aunt who has lost so much. It’s a lot to think about.

I think I’m going to start writing short stories about some of my family and tie them all together in a dark, depressing, Faulkner-esque kind of way. I might even through some regional slang in there. So stay tuned for that, because it should be pretty fun to read.

My husband is helping my father build a shed in the backyard of my parent’s house. He’s generally easy to get along with, but today he was pretty darn grumpy. I can hear him talking to my Dad and he’s laughing and stuff, so I guess he’s either in a better mood, or he’s planning to go home, beat up the cat, take a crap in my favorite shoes, and start drinking by 1:00. I’ll accept either, but I’d rather he takes it easy on the cat. She’s getting older and can’t defend herself like she used to (**disclaimer to anyone who might read this: although the possiblility that anyone at all reads this blog is laughable, on the off chance someone stumbles across this, please don’t report me to PETA. I don’t allow my husband to beat my cat, nor do I beat my cat, and I don’t advocate cat-beating in any circumstance. Unless the cat is your size or larger, and it took your shoes).

I’m taking Mom to get a pedicure once she gets off the phone. Happy Mother’s Day!