July?

Seriously? July? Goodness, someone walk over here and slap me firmly across the face.

Let's go with the excuse that the wind blew out of my sails, m'kay?

Really, I want to blog about my parents - about the continued craziness that will not stop. But then the inner monologue starts:

"But then they'll send you hate mail and threaten you with their made-up lawyer."
"But it's my blog. And I'll write what I want to. Write what I want to."
"Dude, your choice. But you're typing on thin ice."
"Seriously? That's the metaphor you come up with?"

You see how it digresses quickly.

It's October, and my mother always starts getting crazy in October. She's been sending weird postcards and text messages and strange Southern voicemails. Yes, she's lived in the south for thirty-plus years, but she's from New Jersey. Greer-like diction just doesn't work for her.

I haven't been to one football game. K. left his job in July (hmm, wind - I think I found you), and we've been cutting back. As in canceled cable cutting back. I've become addicted to Hulu.

And this week, I did two weeks of grocery shopping for $114. I felt like fist bumping the cashier, but I wasn't sure if she fully supported fist bumping, knew what fist bumping was or would - ultimately - take offense to it. So, no fist bumping this week...