Normal.
2006-02-03, 12:24 p.m.

Events in these parts come in microbursts. In regards to my daily life, it�s abnormal to be so danged normal, so when something happens in the DallyDoniverse, it�s on a big scale. This week it�s an exploding satellite in the form of a friend who, while driving her daughter to school two mornings ago, was in a wreck which totalled her car. She and her daughter (one of my daughter�s best friends) are fine. But, she is a single mom with MS, unpleasant and uncooperative ex, income that skirts the ragged edge of disaster, and therefore has no means by which to traipse out and buy another car. She�s a sweet, spunky, and bright lady who�s had a generous helping of crap on a platter the last few years and could use prayers and a cheerleading squad. We�re getting the rah-rahs covered round here, but a backup prayer arsenal would be much appreciated.

When things cruise along here at normal speed, I grow complacent (read: bored and lazy). It takes something big and looming to get me moving. Sometimes, when there�s nothing imminent, I get a wild hair and create my own deadline. That is why, at the end of February, I am hosting a S0uthern Living party. I�m shaking my defiant little fist at the party gods once again, even though I�m the Mary Richards of gimmick parties. EVERY SINGLE TIME I have tried to host something, at the 11th hour some disaster has befallen so I�ll make $200 worth of food, spend a week making sure the house is perfect, and out of the twenty who promised to come, one or two show up. Is it too much to ask for enough to qualify for one half-price hostess special? Just one?

My mother, who has all the subtlety of a hydrogen bomb, just called to remind me that soon it will be Valentine�s Day and to make sure that we�re sending her a card. H@llmark worships people like my mother, whose very existence hinges upon the receipt of a grossly overpriced and overmarketed bit of printed card stock. She was delighted to hear that I�ve already bought them, instead of waiting until the night before when the selection�s down to �Hope your colonoscopy goes well� or �Happy Valentine�s from the parakeet�. The only part of Valentine�s Day I ever liked was the boxes of candy gussied up like Parisian harlots, which you can�t find any more. Nothing says lovin� like confection prostitution, and those good ol� days are gone forever.

Hubby and Son have to build Son�s invention project this weekend. I�m going right now to buy myself some Mike�s Hard Limeade and popcorn and hunker down. The Super Bowl won�t be able to compete with the contact sport of a hardheaded little boy and his hardheaded daddy, both armed with tools. You let me know who wins in Detroit, and I�ll let you know who wins in Tennessee.

last - next