What’s Up With Me Since Gay Marriage Got Legal All Over

Happy New Year on July 4th at the dollar store

I’m sorry I’ve been remiss, Dear Readers.

I’m having some trouble with focus, time management, sugar intake, and coping with the fact that I am now legally married to Lynn in all fifty states. For a while there I was sure I could just move to Louisiana if I wanted to get away from my marital troubles.  (“No divorce necessary, honey! I’m packing up me and the kids and a-going to Arkansass!”)

Here’s a recent Facebook Post if you haven’t read it already.  And stay tuned for a bit more about a newspaper route I just picked up to generate some cash for extra meat this week.  Missing my children’s book posts?  I’ve had to scale back on those on account of we’re low on meat this week.  Stay posted, though.  

Happy Independence Day!  The dollar store is so hideous and depressing. Yesterday Ella (on the right) lost my license after fooling around with my wallet while I was cleaning up something else she had fooled around with. Ella is super girly and loves pink sparkly things and is disappointed in what Lynn and I have to offer in the way of femininity generally. I was digging through the minivan looking for my license while the girls sat in their car seats watching me freak out. Ray was in the way back of the van reading Amulet while I kept peppering Ella with questions like where did you put my license. I kept trying not to lead the witness (see: Capturing the Friedmans) with my line of interrogation but kept getting locked into the my-license-has-a-picture-of-me-on-it-did you take the yellow card with the picture of me on it what was on the front of the card, Ella, did you take that card? She kept saying yes, I did take it. Where did you take it? I took it upstairs, Mama. Where upstairs? Into Mommy’s office. What did you take upstairs? Your license, Mama. What does my license look like? Is it yellow? Yes. What else is on it? Exhausted, she said, finally, It’s pink, Mama. And it has a picture of ballerinas on it.

At this point Ray cracked up in the back of the car. I didn’t realize he’d been listening to this inanity all along but at that moment with the line about the ballerinas Ray busted out. Then I cracked as well and we were laughing hard.I said, why do you think what she said was so funny and Ray said because Mama, she told you what SHE wished would be on her license.

I thought about that later, how right he was, and how now that he’s getting older it hurts a little to see him so big, catapulting off the diving board and telling the idiots in his public school class to shut up about his nail polish, all with a sense of humor evolving into something wicked and urbane and sophisticated and transgressive but never deviating from the slapstick and sophomoric either.


I took a new job the other day, delivering the local newspapers. Hours: 2:00 am to 7:00 am. The one thing that really drew me to the job were the perks: $250/wk for about 35 hours PLUS you get charged a buck for a mistaken paper (well, only $5.00 charge for a wet one) but the best part of the job is that if you miss a single day in a week the fee is $200.00. Sign me up sez me this has got to be the deal of the lifetime. Eric, the district manager, hired me right away, too. I figure either because of my looks or because I’m a college girl, probably the former.

More on the paper route later. I saw all these baby turkeys the first day, a mother deer and her fawn the second. It’s rull rull dark at 2:30 am even in summer.

Happy New Year. XO to you all
PS I found my license in the back pocket of my jeans in the laundry.


  1. Jesus Christ. I can only assume you haven’t written in a good while because you’re too busy not sleeping and delivering newspapers to people who need them. I love reading your blog. I hope you and your family are well, I’ve loved following your story on here. From one Jewish lez to another.

    Ignore my name, I don’t know how this works but I guess it’s signed into my friend’s music blog. It’s a pretty good pun.

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