On School Drop-Off, Backwards Love, and Vaginal Knitting

It has been a month and a half since I have posted anything on this here blog o'mine.  I am all apology and chagrin and a little bit curious as to whether anyone even noticed.  Things got a little nutty around here and because I couldn't figure out how to write about it all...or whether or not to write about it at all...I simply didn't write.  Frivolous stuff seemed too frivolous.  Heavy stuff seemed too heavy.  So I just wrote nothing.  Bad bad blogger!

So - in order to break myself out of this wordless fog I've been living in, I have decided to simply write down the three top things I have been pondering this morning between the hours of 8:55am and 9:55 am.  It's short.  It isn't life-changing.  But it gets me writing something again.

1) When you stop in the dead center of the narrow street in front of the elementary school to drop your children off, just as the bell is about to ring, stopping traffic in both directions while you give Precious some last-minute instructions about Pick-Up ("I'll be waiting for you at 3:35 right here in the middle of the street, Precious.  Take your time.") and wish her good luck on her spelling test, are you somehow just completely unaware that there are other parents there trying to drop their own children off?  And parents who got their children into the building on time and parked their cars on the side of the street where street parking happens and are now trying to hurry to work.  Do you just not see us?  Or do you feel entitled? Or have you just not figured out another way?  Maybe you're kinda new to driving and/or elementary schools?  And when there is a space at the curb a mere two car lengths up and you still insist upon stopping in the dead center of the street, is it maybe because you are harboring a grudge against your fellow parents?  Were you running for PTA President and you ended up as chair of the fundraising committee and now you're just so pissed that you have sent out 400 requests for silent auction items and all you have are two tickets to a community theater production of HMS Pinafore that you simply can't bring yourself to move two spaces forward and three feet to the right?

I get it.  Being in charge of PTA fundraising sucks.  But if you're gonna stop that much traffic for that long, the school better be able to buy 10 new computers for every classroom when you're done.

2)  Whose idea was it to name that new(ish) frozen food company "evol" and who greenlighted it?

"Evol?  Why, Dan!  It's brilliant!  So appetizing!  I can't decide if it reminds me more of a stocky rodent or a destructive, negative force that is the exact opposite of good but, either way, it leaves me with an overwhelming desire to microwave a burrito.  Well done!"

Yeah...I know...it's "love" spelled backwards.  Sure.  Nothing is more appetizing than some backwards love.  Cue the dueling banjos.

3)  I have been considered a performance artist for 15 years now but I don't understand a lot of performance art.  Sometimes I pretend I do - I smile and nod and say "Oh, man...yeah...that was amazing...and...YEAH." But mostly I find it arbitrary and occasionally silly.  True confession.

Like the woman who is knitting a really long scarf out of wool she has placed in her vagina.  I feel like I should be all like, "Yeah...she's trying to break down the conventions we've placed upon sexuality...and needlework....and she's trying to eliminate the fear and loathing of people's lady bits and make them seem as warm and fuzzy as a wool scarf covered in blood and vaginal secretions.  It's brave and new..."

But I can't.

I mean, I just did.

But I can't really.

That's pretty much all I was thinking about for that hour this morning.  Well, that and the texting I was doing back and forth with Pip's home healthcare nurse who needs to come take the PICC line out of his arm that started bleeding at some point in the night for reasons unknown....

But mostly vaginal knitting.

I would like to promise more writing...and more thinking about loftier things.  I would like to promise two blogs per week.  I am going to attempt to muster that up.

I can promise for sure that I won't be knitting anything that comes from my vagina*.

The people on my Christmas list just breathed a collective sigh of relief.


* because I don't know how to knit is why.

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