Once again, I come to you, bare my soul in cyberspace…am I abby normal?
I used to think those in their forties and even older thirties had their acts to-geth-er.
I also thought I’d get there eventually.
Maybe I’m on the remedial track to wisdom and respectability. Somehow I’ve missed the “refined and tasteful” yacht, and avoided the “mature” express. Instead I’m on the perpetual Ferris Wheel of goofiness. No, not Merry-Go-Round, far too centered.
This moment of angst, which isn’t angst at all, is brought on by an early morning comment from my husband. I say it’s not angst because a small -- or large depending on the speed and velocity of the Ferris Wheel -- part of me loves being twisted.
Anyhoo, on the way to work this morning, I chattered. Hubby is not always a morning person, so sometimes our rides are quiet. Today, I chattered. For some odd reason I began to talk in Pig Latin. I’ve never blogged in Pig Latin. It’s not my language of first choice. Frankly, you all know I have enough trouble with English.
I rambled on, about pretty much nothing at all, laughing, enjoying the trip to the office.
He chuckled. “You know, I really love the way you entertain yourself.”
“Moi?” Or maybe I said Oi-May.
“Yeah, you say something, follow it with a laugh, build on it and then you’re off. Pretty soon you’re totally cracking yourself up. Have you ever noticed that?”
I’m going to be a riot in the nursing home.
