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ABOUT ME

About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.

Friday, March 28, 2008

Tumbleweed

I’ve been driving a lot. And making lunch dates left and right. I’m only doing the stay-at-home mom gig for another couple of months but I can understand how if you stay out of the game for too long, reentry is a bit of a shock, to put it mildly.

Life has become fuzzier, a montage of bottles, diaper bags, and gray winter days. I’ve tried not to succumb to the comfort and ease of no make-up and sweatpants but some days it does feel like, why bother? Of course those are the days when people choose to stop by and oh what a wretch I feel like.

Yesterday I met my friend for lunch. She lives near a shopping mecca, so different than the eyesore of vacant storefronts in my town. No tumbleweed = sense of life. Unfortunately she had the exact same Cortina travel system as me and I felt like a pair from the Baby-sitters Club as we walked the stores. All that was missing was bright pink bubble gum and ponytails. Although I still got called “ma’am.”

The employees of Pantera Grill looked absolutely miserable. I feel like a cantankerous geriatric for even posing the question but what the hell happened to customer service? I’m tired of going into stores and being rung up by some teenager who, instead of giving me my correct change, is in the midst of an anguished conversation with his or her co-worker about a recent phone call from someone named Bobby who told Greg about what Samantha did with David.

Maybe I should have just stayed home.

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