Is it Weird?

I have a weird streak, it’s true, I’ve been thinking about these things all morning, and I’m pretty sure it’s abnormal, or totally normal, which would really freak me out.  I’m a little hesitant to ask what you think, but I’m going out on a limb, and suggest you leave a comment.

Is it weird…to have spent more time in deep conversation with my dog than my husband, granted he’s on a business trip, but still? No disrespect to my dog, he’s very empathetic, but the tail wagging thing is a little ingenuous. I mean I had my phone surgically implanted so I wouldn’t miss a call. I have to conclude my husband is either having too much fun without me, which is not possible, or my voice makes him tragically homesick. Yeah, thats what I thought, it’s a gift, what can you do? 

Is it weird…that my mood is dependent on how my ass looks in yoga pants? Maybe I should remove all the mirrors in my house but that would be self-defeating. I confess spandex is no longer my friend, I’ll get over it in a decade or so, let’s just calm down, and agree move to on. I’m sure there are plenty of options on Amazon.
Is it weird…I spent the entire morning in bed? My sister called because she registered my whereabouts by the twenty or so status updates. Social media is a bitch. She says, “You have way too much time on your hands.” I counter, “Clearly…I should be blogging but I can’t stop tweeting, than I think I should post the tweet on FB, and then tweet your response! It’s possible I have diarrhea of the fingers.” She says, “How much coffee have you had?” I think that is kind of a personal question don’t you?

Is it weird…that I’m leaving for Hawaii in a few weeks and haven’t lost a single pound? It’s like slabs of greasy, cheesy, deep dish pizza are stalking me 24/7, there’s no let up. I’m like an ape that only climbs down from the tree for scraps of food, I climb out of bed for cold pizza in the middle of the night, I have no regrets. I feel you judging me and my spandex, you need to stop.
Is it weird…that as I’m writing this post, I am more worried about my editor not liking the … thing then I am about the content? She’ll tell me I’m using it incorrectly and she’s right but I’m doing it anyway. I’m such a rebel. Thank god she has a well-developed sense of humor and will not find time to read this blog because she is deep into the pages! Big love to Stacey Donovan, editor extraordinaire, east coast native but we’ll try not to hold that against her.

Is it weird…I prefer coffee to almost any other beverage, wine is a close second, okay first, no second, it’s a toss-up, that’s a lie, who am I kidding, wine always wins, it actually has the word “win” embedded, then by the grace of god I remember, we have morning and night. A time for all things, god created it this way, and she (I use this term inclusively so I don’t want you manist out there complaining) said it was all good. I think she’s trying to make up for kicking us out of the garden.

Is it weird…that half the books in my bookcase I haven’t read, I just like the idea of them lining the shelves, like the can goods in my pantry, all of which will make the annual migration to charity. It reminds me of when I was pregnant (a good three plus years of my life), even though the food in my refrigerator could feed a small village, I was compelled to buy more. Glancing at the rows of books makes me smile, I feel the itch to place a new order, and I scratch it.

Is it weird…that I look forward to the UPS truck like Californians are looking forward to El Nino? It’s a little strange, but I like tracking orders, like a meteorologist tracks  high pressure systems. There’s always this element of surprise. I realize I am the one who placed the order, but I tend to forget what’s coming, so it’s like Christmas, but it goes on and on and on and on. I think I hear Larry moaning all the way from New York? 

Is it weird…that I think I’m a Hindu, all worried about my Karma, and how to achieve moksha? Teaching world religions is like being in medical school, I believe the faith I am currently studying.  Next month is Judaism and I’m already leaning to the left during dinner to accentuate the fact that I am free. It’s symbolic of ancient times when only free people had the luxury of reclining while eating. But I would argue that it is the same today. Think about our slavery to fast food, drive-up, carry-out, express, to go, door dash, happy meals. I’m going to venerate my dining table. Where is Moses when you need him?

Is it weird…that I find myself sipping wine and playing trivia crack with my son at midnight, we discover our bank of knowledge is completely opposite, but together we would be unbeatable? The wine was not helping, but made for some hysterical commentary, and prolonged games. My son got bored and went back to his own life. I tried to play by myself, I  know what you’re thinking, but I can be a hellacious challenge. Wait, that didn’t come out right?

I have to stop, I could go on all day, and for sure the words will be playing over and over in my head, “Is it weird…?” Leave a comment if you are so inclined but remember if you can’t say anything nice…say it anyway!

If you enjoyed this post you might also enjoy: You have two options or 50 shades of ordinary


Leave a Comment

  1. I believe my warped sense of reality is directly related to growing up on a street named after an enormous pink bird and neighbors who were a tad too friendly! Thanks for reading old neighbor…I'm not sure warped is the right word?


  2. I've read this blog twice, laughed both times, I can totally relate to weird. I noticed a few changes from one reading to the next? What's up?


  3. I'm a little weird as you know, I get all excited about the blog, and end up posting before it's ready. Then I go back and make adjustments, a lot of adjustments! Keep reading, you never know what I might add!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s