Call me crazy.

I think I want to go back to school. I think I need an MFA. I'm just putting it out there--pen on paper (well, fingers to keyboard) toe in water--to see what it feels like. It feels anxiety provoking, which is altogether normal since anxiety is a mixture of fear and excitement. But where? And when? No--that's letting fear take over. I'll just let the idea of going back to school marinate for a while.

GOMI: so bad it's good.

Everybody visit Get Off My Internets. It's the antidote to my personal love/hate relationship with blogs. I've always disliked the idea of blogs, and then I began writing one, but this works for me because I have a love/hate relationship with myself. In fact as soon as I hit the 'publish' button for a new post, I'm already composing snarky comments in my head. It's very post modern.

Let's discuss mommy blogs for a minute. If you really want to get at the truth beneath the perfect lives, you must read the comments, the replies to comments and the blogger's twitter feeds. That's where the sociological learning is happening. GOMI is the Cliff's Notes to this hypocrisy.

For instance, GOMI's latest post was about the comments to a post by Caitlin, of Healthy Tipping Point. Apparently, Caitlin's whole philosophy is promoting self esteem and she even wrote a book and a separate blog called 'Operation Beautiful' where she encourages women to stick post-its with positive messages in random places like this:

And this:

On her regular blog she posted this:

And then lost her shit when a commenter asked her if she was pregnant. She called the commenter 'crappy.' And then her loyal readers defended her and said the commenter was jealous. And then it got into another us vs. them situation, the haves vs. the have nots and it was fascinating. I loved it because I felt slightly superior in that shitty, gleeful way that feeling superior gives. So I read more GOMI. After an hour in GOMI land, I began to feel sad for humanity, myself included, that it's come to this.

On second thought, don't go to GOMI. In fact, don't read blogs about other people's lives. Just go outside and live your own.

Hello, little blog.

I'm so glad this thing is like a cat. I can ignore it for weeks then come back and see that nothing's changed. Lots has changed out in the real world, however. Big Gun's dad died in January. He was 98.5 plus three days. I love Jewish funerals. There is so much symbolism. The rabbi pinned a short piece of ribbon onto the immediate family members then tore it to signify their broken hearts. After the service, we all went to the cemetery and helped bury Louis. Every guest shovels three spades of earth, the first with the spade inverted as a sign of reluctance. Then, of course, we eat.

How are things in divorce land? Almost finished. I will be happy when I never have to write a breathtakingly large check to a divorce attorney every again. It's like paying a contractor but without getting a new bathroom or brick walkway in return. When all is said and done I will have nothing to show for it.

How is Clooney? Getting along with Baby Kitten. Look, here they are napping together. 

This is as much of the bed that Baby Kitten will allow Clooney.

My big son got his college applications done. One school had a deadline of midnight and his went through at 11:55p.m. The rest of them went similarly. In fact, the whole process has been like this. For instance, last Friday he informed me at 3p.m. that I needed to fill out some thirty-page income/tax document before the end of day. He is hard to live with: ungrateful, unorganized, entitled, and selfish...and I have just described an alcoholic. Teenagers are like alcoholics. He's sullen and morose one afternoon, then chatty and euphoric the next. Either way, I will jump through hoops for him. If he acts like an unpredictable drunk, I'm like a crazy fan. Ex says I should set a boundary and then let him fail. As if. I find that eating a lot of candy helps.