I'm just stretched out here in the dark, listening to the wrestling waves.
The wind is flirting with the trees and alls I'm thinking about is a profound post LoW wrote a while back entitled "I Can't!" which featured a photo of a woman in labor.
She was recollecting that epiphany you get when you're pushing and pushing and all the sudden you realize you CAN'T do it. You can't push that big ole' baby out of your iddy biddy body.
You girlz KNOW what I'm talking about, right? How when you break the news to your hub that you CAN'T do it, you WON'T do it, and you don't even WANT to do it, he smiles condescendingly and says "Of course you can honey. And you WILL. Now PUSH!!!!"
So that's when you give him that gentle reminder, Kung Fu Panda style, that he's the one who got you into this in the first place so he better not even THINK about ever ever ever coming near you again when he's wearing his Aspen cologne and his stripey P.J.s.
I don't know why I told you that story. It has nothing to do with anything. Totally random.
It has nothing to do with the fact that I have less than 48 hours left to live.
And it has nothing to do with how Ronnie, my mover, totally abandoned me like a Radio Head song. That's right! He left me so high and dry. When I called him this morning for reassurance the nice customer service lady said my move had been reassigned to some dude named Bill.
You see now why I have a stone cold heart, peeps.
And it has nothing to do with the fact that I am on my . . . comma.
And it has nothing to do with finding out that my van down by the river needs $4,000 worth of repairs before we can park it at Utah Lake.
ba bye van down by the river. Have fun being a kidney car.
But wait! You can't even be a kidney car because I can't find your title!
And now my house is a nervous wreck because I laid into it like a woman in labor. Without an epidural. And I grabbed it by the collar and got all up in it's grill and screamed "Where's the freakin' title, huh? huh? huh? SHOW ME THE TITLE!!!!!"
I turned my whole house upside down and got nothin' but a nauseous house.
But then the universe took pity on me and Martha brought over the most delicious secret recipe sandwiches for lunch. I would have taken a photo if I wasn't so busy trying to find the remote control for the sweat glands in my eye balls.
Mmmmmmahalo Martha. Now I can't feel sorry for myself.
And Mahalo Teresa Kimball for dropping in to help me clean my kitchen. Teresa and I have been soul-sistahs for 13 years--ever since I heard her say YEE HAW when she introduced her family to the entire BYU-H faculty.
She taught me to clog in her back yard. And she named all of her kids after cities in Wyoming.
And now she's seen my oven naked.
Would you guys like to see my oven naked?
K, you've seen my oven naked.
Now say YEE HAW and name your next kid Sheridan or Cody and we can be soul sistahs too.
Gotsta go! (Some of us on this blog are still in labor.)