Promises to Keep

That’s kind of a dramatic title. I have miles to go before I sleep, is the point. BA in English Lit, Robert Frost and all that.

If you’re reading this, I’m in Amelia Island, FL with my momma and sister and my nephdogs for what will likely be the last time.

I KNOW! I can’t stop doing that! I turned 50 and everything got real, somehow. It’s like all the joy is gone from the world. You know how something is funny when it’s new, and then it is briefly retro-funny as a cultural reference and then it’s “stop it mom because you are embarassing me” funny, and then it’s “of course you’re funny, sweetie! Here, have a prune while we check your blood pressure!” funny? I feel like I have hobbled right into that last category. Which is not to be confused with “took too much Ambien and now I’m a racist harpy” funny.

Speaking of Roseanne: I used to be a fan of the show. But Roseanne herself was my least favorite character – I often thought that was the genius. She was us at our worst and our most vulnerable. The show’s strength was in her capacity to learn and grow wthout resorting to After School Special teaching. Oments. And were it not for her lunacy between then and now that made it impossible to see the character without seeing the vitriol and hateful political rhetoric of the comedian, it could have been so again. I didn’t take her ugly public persona or her antics as seriously then – and now I do. It ruined the reruns for me, too. Perhaps there is some hope in a namesake-free reboot.

Anyway. I got a reminder that my domain is renewing and I gave it some thought. Blogging isn’t much of a thing and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing out here. But I decided to let it renew because you never know when someone will open a multi-million dollar company called “That Shameless Hussy” and guess who will own the domain???

I went to the Erma Bombeck writer’s conference in April and I promised myself I’d have book proposal and a stand-up routine for the next one in 2020. And I won’t do that unless I find some of that lost joy. And I won’t find joy if I don’t put some of this angst on paper (ok not real paper it’s a figure of speech shaddup)  and keep it from cluttering up my brain.

That’s the theory, anyway. But I don’t have time for angst today. I promise to twist myself up in knots on my next post.

So if you’re reading this or not, I’m in Amelia Island, FL with my momma and sister and my nephdogs for what will likely be the last time. And my mother just asked me if I had ever thought about tracking my saturated fat intake in case I thought I needed to lose some weight, so that’s maybe not as poignant as the first time you read it.

See you next week.

 

 

 

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