- The next time I write my Seven Sentences, I’ll be 34…an unsavory number that I hope belies its optimistic truth.
- I felt less alone eating by myself at BW3’s tonight than I have in a long time. I might be getting the hang of this single woman on the loose thing again after an unfortunate 6 month hiatus.
- The kids are gone for the week and the thought of cleaning the apartment from floor to ceiling, carpet to linoleum has me ecstatic. It’s a shame I gave my pearls to my sister–I could’ve had a true Donna Reed moment, albeit a shit-kicking, single lady rocking out to tunes on the radio while vacuuming one.
- I have for my entire life thought Van Halen’s “Panama” was Def Leppard’s “Animal” simply based on the chorus. I just this very moment realized how very wrong I was–only because it’s on the radio and a few weeks ago I insisted to a lead singer of an 80’s cover band that he had indeed played “Animal” because I heard it. Never argue with a rocker in a hair-band wig.
- With going back to school becoming a very real possibility, I’m already getting excited about signing up for classes and meeting new professors. I need a lifetime scholarship for all the classes I’d love to take.
- Paisley has officially claimed the potty mouth of the family title: Today during a tantrum at the mall she called me both an idiot AND a moron. I honestly have no idea where she got those words from.
- The Doomsday prediction of May 21 was moved to October 21st, the day before my birthday, so maybe my fear of 34 will be completely moot. I guess I should eat cake on Friday just to be sure.
I love you all, some more than others.
Destiny! Manifested 