So anyway, I have been gone for awhile. Seems I hurt my back over vacation (not that it's any of your beeswax, gutter-brain, but there is no juicy and salubrious reason as to why) and I have been either humped over or laid flat out for the past three weeks. Good times. Yes, as a matter of fact, I am quite snarly, thanks for asking. I cannot exercise, which makes me tense as well as chubby. I vacationed for two weeks in Maine, lobster and cholesterol capital of the world, so I was a bit extra chubby before even getting home apparently. Great.

The good, nay the great, news is that kindergarten started last week!!! This news is great because MY two children were in it! Let me tell you, two years ago I thought this day would never come. And I mean NEVER. Kindergarten is so much fun! I don't know if they enjoy it but I sure as shoot do. We walk around the corner to the school every morning, and Handsome Boy and Girly Girl get right in there, with their new backpacks (filled to the brim with absolutely nothing) and shiny shoes all ready for a whole new day of learning adventures! I myself am all shiny and ready for two and a half hours of whatever I damn please, thank you very much and YAHOO!

Besides that enormous bit of news in my life, not much is new, other than the fact that if I ever hear any of the following again I will come out shootin' :
1. Moose stew
2. Maverick
3. If we wanted a bridge.....
4. Pit bull/Lipstick (if I hear that one again I will shoot any poor sap who happens to be nearby. Sorry for your troubles but you're goin' down. I cannot hear that ridiculous phrase one single time more without losing complete control of my faculties.)

You know what I'm talking about, right? Oh, I have so much more to say, but for the moment I will contain myself. However, I will leave you with this: the woman that the conservatives are putting forth for the second in command of our nation is someone who once inquired what was necessary to ban books. She never actually did it, but she inquired about it. Banning books. BOOKS. BANNING THEM.

EXCUSE ME?

Really, John, Alaska? Are you sure? Have you ever met Joe Biden? Cause he's gonna chew her up and spit her out, you do know that, don't you? So, you're sure? You're sure you're sure?

I don't have a good feeling.....and I'm not even voting for you, dude.

Alaska? Really?

I am thinking of giving my husband the go ahead on polygamy.

Think about it -- how bad can it be? I mean, certainly no way on the under age marriage for my daughter and all that, plus the hideous dresses are off the table, but there's huge upside. At 6:00 every night, when I am completely and utterly exhausted and can not take one more moment of family life, Mommy #2 comes in. She fixes and serves dinner, she makes pleasant conversation with those around her, she gets them washed, changed and into bed. She convinces them to stay in bed until they fall asleep, and she changes the tinkly sheets that periodically pop up in the night. Meanwhile, I am watching cable til I happily toddle off to bed myself. Total win-win, am I right?

It's not so much a love-share, it's more of a job-share, and job shares happen all over the country every day, so why can't one start happening at my house?

Actually, maybe I do not need polygamy so much as that robot from the Jetsons. Rosie, I think her name was. She had Elroy whipped into shape every day, and I could probably afford her. Plus, she's not looking for any action from my husband. Not that George wasn't a hottie....

Is it me or does John Edwards' girlfiend look just like Camilla Parker-Bowles? Bowfreakinwow. Why do these men pick the dog-faced girls? I can do tricks in bed, and I'm a heck of alot cuter. Of course, they're card tricks, but those are very popular too, you know.

See you in two weeks. Wish me luck.

We are going on vacation this Saturday. Two weeks on the coast of Maine, and I am practically bursting at the seams to get there. Remember when I said last time that I couldn't wait to get home? And now I can't wait to go away? You can see how difficult life is for my husband, right?

So I am in full preparation mode. I am not one who travels by the seat of her pants. I used to be, but one husband and two maniacs later I am not anymore. I am now a Boy Scouts nocturnal emission (I hate the other term) in the level of my preparedness. Consider the following:

The dog is bathed, the toys are put away, and the sunscreen is ready and waiting, even though we do not leave for 48 hours. Packing is in full swing, now that all the laundry is done. I mean all of it too, and I am not doing any more. It has been no easy task convincing my family to wear the same outfit since Tuesday. Once I am getting ready for vacation, though, I am very strict, and you do not want to cross me. They really balked at the idea that no one was allowed to wear underwear this week. Well, all but my husband...

The refrigerator has become a no-fly zone. Nothing goes in or out without written permission. I do not want anyone eating the arugula intended for lunch on our fourth day at the beach, but they are more than welcome to the somewhat greenish bacon that I bought in February. I am nothing if not reasonable. That fridge will be empty and sparkling by six a.m. Saturday, or heads will roll.

Rigid? What do you mean?

See those boxes in the corner? Hands off, Jack. Those boxes are filled with vacation things, and I have been collecting them for weeks. You know, mini-packs of sugar cereal that the kids are never allowed to eat 50 weeks a year, boxes of CheezeIts, bubbles that were 75% of at the grocery store, club soda, ice cube trays (you never know), whatnot. Things I cannot leave home without.

We are keeping our fingers crossed that our little dog doesn't go paws up while we're gone. He's a really old guy, and every day he wakes up wagging we breathe a sigh of relief. We have dogsitters coming to care for him, which means there will probably be a keg tapped in my living room at some point, but it wouldn't be the first time.

I think I forgot to mention that we are taking the children with us. For two weeks. Away from home. The four of us. Together. Two weeks. Oh god....

I am so middle-aged. That doesn't really bother me, and I have no desire to be 21 again, but the side effects of middle age are beginning to disturb me. And disturb me alot.

Case in point: last night we went to a play at a local theater. No major production, just a relatively small piece about a somewhat interesting subject. Apparently not interesting enough though, because halfway through the first act I found myself wondering whether it was more worth it to watch the performance, or more worth it to be in my bed. My bed won, and we left at intermission.

I believe that is the sort of thought process that can single-handedly bring you closer to death.

Second: Some people cannot leave home without their astma inhaler devices. I can no longer leave home without my restrictor devices. You know what I mean. It begins with a "g" and rhymes with hurdle. I can no longer just be out there on my own, flying free and breezy in the wind. I need to be restricted.

These are the days that try mens souls. Well, women, but you see my point.

And this: we were travelling last week. Two quick trips in one week, which turns out to be way more than I can handle. By the end of the second trip I was practically weeping to go home. I was having lots of fun, don't get me wrong, but I have become such a homebody that I barely like to stick my toe out the door. Homebody, agorophobic, whatever.

These are the signs of aging, not wrinkles and brown spots on your hands. I've got plenty of those too, believe me, but that's another post. Limitting your fun makes you old. Worrying about your jiggly bits makes you old (unless you just let yourself go, and then I don't even want to know you.) Not wanting to see the world makes you old. Plus stupid, so stay away from me anyway. Did I mention crabbiness makes you old? Good god, I must be one hundred and ten.....