Medicine

I'm thinking of how my husband Eric can make me laugh, I am talking tears streaming down my face, ribs hurtin' kind of laughing at times, something we should all do more, but that is a lecture for another day, and how he and I had a funny conversation about a blog topic yesterday. I think I just committed some kind of grammatical error crime with that previous sentence. Geez. Good thing there aren't grammar police living here in my house.

Anyway, Eric really is a much better writer than I am-he's got such a wicked sense of humor, a great knowledge of history, etc, etc, a master's degree in English, and really should just be doing our family blog, or, as I have told him many times, writing "the next great American novel." Ha, no pressure there! Don't be embarrassed, Eric, if you are reading this!

In any case, I will try and relate the conversation. It stems back to about five days ago, when I went shopping. I bought many things, among the items were refrigerator dough crescent rolls and a package of hot dogs. I came home, put them in the fridge, and stated that the hot dogs and crescent rolls were for pigs-in-a-blanket, just like my Grandmother used to make, and I was going to make them soon, to please not touch the crescent rolls or hot dogs, save them, save them, because I simply must make pigs-in-a-blanket, and I will, I will, and soon.

There the hot dogs and the crescent rolls sat, in the fridge, for several days until I was left to my own devices one morning when Eric got up early and took the girls somewhere like a park or something, as he often does nowadays while we are living this semi-vacation sort of existence. I got up nice and late like I like to, yawned and stretched a bit, and had my coffee, then started looking around for some breakfast. Well, I cooked the crescent rolls, which really ended up looking like blobs, then ate half of them slathered in butter, one after the other, standing in the kitchen. Ugh. Insert self-loathing here.

I am just doing a write down of whatever comes to mind, the stream-of-consciousness-thing that Robin talked about a bit in her blog. I am now thinking of you, Melissa, and your friends. I am a fat blogger. I don't self-loathe too much, or I really try as hard as I can not to, and I won't put my weight on my website. I won't diet and weigh in this Wednesday, because likely by the day after tomorrow I will rationalize some reason that I am not on a diet. I am the world's worst dieter. Another story, another day. I did not like to read you beating up on yourself, though, Missy Melissa. You have three beautiful kids, a lovely life, too. Oh, and I think your picture is great-you look great!

Anyway, Silly joke: Why did the woman wear a helmet to the dinner table?
--Because she was on a crash diet. I do wish you luck on your diet/healthy eating. I'm just worse weight-wise when I am paying too much attention to my eating.

Anyway, on with my blah-blah-blogging.

When Eric came home with the girls a little later that morning, he and I talked about blogging, about how I went berzerk and cooked the crescent rolls and then ate half of them, standing in the kitchen, what a humorous/hideous scene it was (after so many years of marriage, I really don't keep enough secrets from my husband, I swear I gotta work on that one). Eric said something like, "Now that is your story you could blog about. You should talk about how you were going to make pigs in a blanket, but instead you just made blankets, and now the blankets are in the pig." It got me really laughing at myself, and now I think the story is not so funny as I remember it in my head. Guess you had to be there. Ha.

I titled this blog 'Medicine' because of the reference to Laughter being the best medicine. Anyway, I should have had a separate piece of paper off to the side here to take note of how many times I was interrupted by my children while I was trying to write this blog. Grrr. I think it was no less than ten times, and all my Sophia, whom I think Alissa sends as the messenger.

I felt like I had so much more to say in this blog today. I'm writing and writing with the assumption that my friends and sister will just read it simply to hear what is going on in my head at times. It can be a scary place in there, with the cobwebs and all, and, well-lately with the worrying about the move and when is my close date, and will the closing happen smoothly, my not sleeping too well of late, etc, my brain is on overload with neurotic worryings. I have to say, all in all, though, all is well. I really can't complain. Ok, bye for now.

Love to all.