What up? Damn. It’s been a while.

So after being gone for like, two years or something can you just pop back in and start blogging again (more than two years? I dunno, I have to look. OK, just under two years).

Well, I don’t think there are any official laws against it or anything, so I am. I thought about starting a new one, but that would be my third, and frankly, I just don’t want to have to pick out a theme right now.

Anyway. It’s September now. This makes me so sad you guys, you don’t even know. One, it’s the end of summer. I know, the official end of summer isn’t until the 21st or something (I’m so good at remembering dates!), but for me it always feels like the end. When I was little, summer was over when I went back to school. Now, it’s just over when it’s September. Event though it’s supposed to be like 817 degrees today and tomorrow. Whatever.

I hate winter. Not the months themselves actually, I guess. I hate the winter in OHIO. Because Ohio winters suck balls. The are cold and long and gray and icy and snowy and I won’t get to see much daylight until, like, May and that makes me so grumpy. I’ve thought about getting one of those sun lamps or whatever they’re called, but THEY ARE EXPENSIVE. And what if it didn’t work? Then I’d have a really expensive ugly lamp that I wasted money on and, well, then I’d be more grumpy.

It’s a dilemma.

So, yeah. Winter is coming and I’m wasting the end of of my not-yet-the-end-of-summer getting all worked up about it.

Logical is what I am.

Also, this month, I turn OLD. At the end of the month, I will hit the big three five. I’m not sure how I feel about this yet. Sometimes I’m all “Oh, hey, whatever, it’s just a number”. But then other times I’m all “Thirty-five? Is this the age when I have to start getting my boobs smashed in that machine to look for cancer? I’m getting OLD. I’m halfway to seventy and that’s REALLY OLD! What about the test where they stick the camera up my butt? Do I have to do that yet? Isn’t there something else I’m going to have to do now? Something I won’t want to do becasue I really dislike going to the doctor?” Not because my doctor is mean or not attentive or anything. Just because I always feel like I’m going to get in trouble.

Can a doctor give you a detention? Or ground you? Because I should totally be kept after school or locked in my room or something. I don’t exercise enough, and I like foods that are greasy, and also beer and sometimes wine. And probably my pants are a few sizes bigger than they should be.

Maybe it’s my cholesterol I need checked?

Thirty-five. My sister-in-law is there already, and she seems all cool with it, ready to pop out another baby and whatever. My husband is forty-seven (!) for Christ’s sake. And he’s all fine about it. So what is my deal? I mean, I’m generally happy, so that’s good right? Being happy is good for you, and worry is bad, so I guess I shouldn’t worry about it, right?

OK. Right, then. I’ll just stop worrying about it, I guess. I mean, because I’m SO GOOD at not worrying.

Thirty-five. Not such a big deal, right?


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