Way Off Target

Every now and then I get an invitation to renew my subscription to Runner's World magazine, which is pretty funny because I don't run. I have subscribed to a ton of magazines over the years until I Zoloft-ed the need for magazines out of me, so I can sort of understand how a mix-up like someone thinking I might be interested to Runner's World would happen.

Here recently, I've gotten such strange things in the mail that I'm beginning to be a little concerned about identity theft or having some sort of random amnesia. Just this week I got a postcard thanking me for attending service at a church 30 miles from my house. Yesterday's offering from the mailbox led to a little misunderstanding with Fidel. He walked into the foyer to see what had arrived for him and discovered a baby formula sample from Enfamil. He walked back to the kitchen to ask me if there was anything I needed to tell him. I had forgotten about the formula sample so I immediately got a hot flash and wondered what I had bought and neglected to hide in time. He finally let me off the hook and reminded me that there was a container of baby formula in the foyer.

I'm pretty sure that somewhere, some pregnant jogger is wondering why marketing companies think she's developed a sudden need for chocolate and cocktail recipes.

Alive and Kicking but Quite Ashamed

I wish I had the excuse of some grand adventure or amusing misadventure to explain my absence, but the real truth of the matter is that I was wallowing in self pity and not taking the time to be funny. Not that my funny is a gift to the world, but it is a big part of me and I lost it there for a while. Just recently I've been in situations and thought, Gosh, I really need to blog this. My IRL friends don't know about my blog because I have to reserve the right to rag on them anonymously so they couldn't prod me to write in the same way they prodded me to get out of my pajamas at 5 pm or to fix my hair, for chrissakes.

I'm sitting here before 8 am, listening to the birds chirp around me. We spent a week at the beach in SC and it was amazing. I grew up on SC beaches and after having lived in Hawaii and vacationing in Mexico and the Bahamas, I always said that I didn't care if I ever saw the brown water of the Atlantic again. I was wrong because as far as I'm concerned at this very moment, there's no beach finer than the one we are leaving today. Our girls had the times of their lives. I feel more normal than I've felt in months.

Thanks for the prod, Not So Mom-a-licious!