Making a difference

Hullo. That's how I sound when I talk right now because I have a bad cohd. I'd also like to mention that I have two legitimate blog posts in process, but like the rest of you was demoralized beyond lethargy by the weather phenomenomenom of recent days. That is, the sucky, moist, hegemony-producing humidity of colonialism (because my geography is just sketchy enough to assume that all the Belgian and Dutch plundering happened along the equator). Still, I come by to say hullo because I realized a few minutes ago how much the world needs me: an Edina mom just interrupted her pedicure at Spalon to make her husband text me and tell me to blog already. That, my friends, is affirmation far greater than a Nobel, a Pulitzer, or a Bloggie. So hullo.

I mentioned a moment ago that I am on my deathbed. And yet, did a Door County cherry crumble just come out of the oven? It did indeed. Did I apply a coat of lemon oil to the beautiful walnut credenza in my dining room? I did that, too (Though actually, said dining room is more of a group therapy room right now. I don't have a dining room table, so the blue Eames chairs just sit staring at each other in a circle, waiting for folks to stop by and express their feelings). After a day of sniveling and gasping for breath and blowing my nose, I was revived this afternoon by a delivery of steaming hot delicious homemade chicken soup. By someone. Whose name may or may not begin with M. And who may or may not be occupying, of late, a bit some a lot of time otherwise spent blogging. So, for all of you who remember those early moments in your own lives when you cheerfully abandoned friendships for a bit while more interesting things percolated along, let me assure you Going40 is just such a friend. Let me also add that if you had bothered to memorize the summer poem from a couple weeks ago, your lives would also be good. Now has come, an easy time. I let it roll . . . . Indeed.

Yours in sickness, health, and so long as there's nothing more exciting around,

Me