Let me begin with an apology. I have been so consumed with my damn self as of late, and trying to get to a state of (new) normalcy, that I have been neglecting your sites. Strangely, I think of you all more than a sane woman, or at least one with a life, should.
I worry that I’m missing out on important developments in the blogosphere:
Did Jodi have her baby?
Did Egan and Pants and Therese decide to run a marathon in Tuscany together?
Knox, are you engaged?
Did Jurgen write that tell-all book about me that she’s been threatening?
And the list goes on and on. I will be better, I promise. Right after Dear Diary Day. (Yes, it actually exists. I totally Googled it.)
In other developments, the BMIB (Big Man in the Blogosphere) and his wife are getting me back and coming to take over my king bed for the weekend. Bug and Crick have been trained to sing the Canadian national anthem and I have stocked the fridge full of maple syrup (hey, I hear it’s what they know.) Friday night we’re pretty much going to watch Slap Shot and listen to Celine Dion, but for those local yokels without Saturday plans, we’ll be getting together in the nation’s capital to partake in some booze and lame discussions about bandwidth, Blogger v. Typepad, and Dooce – please email me for specifics if you’d like to join us. We’d love to see you there!
In the Same Old, Same Old File: On my walk last night I turned the corner and found myself walking behind an older couple out for a stroll. Hunched over. Holding hands. Of course I burst into tears. Right there in the road and right there in public.
Thank God neither of them was carrying a DVD of the Notebook, or I’m quite sure I would have had to be hospitalized.
41 Comments
Looooooove the Notebook. I totally understand your breakdown…LOL.
And it’s okay to take some time for yourself…don’t feel too bad about that!
No worries hon
Dear Diary Day? I am intrigued.
Hang in there, and stay away from older couples and/or the Notebook for now.
OooOOoooooOOOOoOoooooh… What a good idea! What do you say guys!
Egan?
Pantsy?
Anyone?
…
Bueller?
Don’t forget the Molson’s.
Depending on the timing/locationing, I may be available for some boozing and vehement defense of free blogging services (no matter how wrong my argument is).
…or I should just do as you suggest and e-mail you.
All right.
I’m gearing up.
I have all my hockey sticks, beaver tails, blueberry grunts and Anne Murray tribute buttons all ready to go.
We’re going to fly down via goose, eh?
We’ll be there at aboot lunchtime.
Have some moose steaks ready.
Love,
BMIB
I’m glad I’m not the only one who tears up when I see “old people love”. NOT “lovin’”, ew. But holding hands? those looks? Omg.
Incidentally, anyone that wants to come out should be female, as this will make me look like some blogging pimp king.
Bonus points if you bring me a crown.
man, did I HATE that movie…every girl I know told me how much I would love it and cry in it–I did neither!
old people holding hands makes me cry too. every. damn. time. and don’t get me started on the notebook…
you missed my birthday but i forgive you. ;)
xxoo,
sizz
I was totally planning on joining you and sadly I can’t now…:-(
Don’t worry– you’ve only missed my same self-absorbed blather. And I’ve been known to cry at the sight of old couples, too, so no worries. Hang in there.
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I found this great site where you can read about marathons and other crap. I made $900 last month off of bloggers alone. It’s fun!
P.S. bring on the run Thérèse and Pants.
Well, for each of those couple just take comfort int he fact that there are dozens who die alone. Hmm, well, I suppose that’s not so comforting, after all.
The only happy couple I know is the girl who brke my heart and her boyfriend. My existence (notice I don’t say life) is awesome.
you idiot spammers need to be spanked!!!
I would have cried too Kris, and I haven’t been through half of what you have (recently!).
Please, you’re entitled to all the time you need to yourself.
Maple syrup? Celine? Ewwwwwwwww. I live here and ewwwwwww!!!
But then I’m an import….
I am SO there. I will make sure you stay up till at least 10:30pm and before going to bed, we’re going to go beat up an old couple. It’ll be theraputic. The police will understand, they hate old people anyway.
I cry when I see a couple have a successful second date.
Oh man. The Notebook makes me cry like an anorexic cheerleader who just ate the last brownie.
I love that movie, and my one romantic goal is to have a marriage in which I still want to walk down the street holding my hubby’s hand when I’m 80.
Have fun with Jorge and Mrs. Jorge this weekend. I’m so jealous! When are all you people coming to Arkansas?!
Drunk running…god, will I miss the district.
Actually, while I was there, I began to projectile weep at an episode of “Wedding Story,” and then drank Johnny Walker Black Label with Diet Cream Soda and no ice.
Really…we’re too smart for this!
It’s scary how close I am to flying to D.C. to meet you and the others I have been observing from my hidden perch in the bushes of anonymity.
Bridget Jones – me was mocking spam commenter above me.
That’s SO funny because I had the same thought the other day: I’m so consumed with what’s going on in my world I’ve neglected all my favorite blogs! Well I’m back and I’m checking in :)
No apology needed at all. Seems like a lot of people had been checking out recently while they moved to a new state of normalcy–myself included. But now that I’m here, I’m really digging the official state motto:
Normalcy is for everyone but lovers…
And I found myself crying yesterday at an old couple holding hands in front of me too. Of course, I had been behind them in line for 20 minutes at Starbucks until they ultimately decided to order hot tea with lemon, so that was a slightly different context…
Have a great time on Saturday–I’ve got a mandatory family birthday party to attend or else I would have definitely been up for a road trip!
I’m becoming more concerned about your delusional behavior. While a crying jag in a public place is always a nice touch in getting out of a ticket, you can’t let the oldsters get to you.
They’re not holding hands, she’s trying to get away and he won’t let go. Or they may just be lost and can’t find their house due to the Alzheimer’s. Or he may be so addled she has to hold his hand so he won’t wander out into traffic because he thinks he’s still fighting the Germans.
Plus you’re not getting to see how she has to yell at him because he’s deaf. Or how they go out to dinner they have no discussion other than the topics of physical maladies or someone dying.
Or how he calls his nurse Mama and tries to get a sponge bath every day.
Keep your chin up. Don’t let the Bunion Brigade get to you.
I feel you on the old couples. I had a similar reaction a few weeks ago in a hospital. The way that this elderly husband was attending to his wife opened up my floodgates. Sometimes worry I won’t have a little old man to hold my hand in the surgical recovery area when I’m 80.
I wanted to hate The Notebook so badly I almost refused to see it. I borrowed it from a co-worker fully intending to talk a lot of trash and set the record straight. Couldn’t hate it. Watched it three times. Cried like a baby. Need to buy it.
Pantsy feels you on the old couples, I myself prefer to just feel the old couples.
(pause)
*giggles for far too long*
I’m in the same boat as you. And therefore I forgive you! XO
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Kris, you are so darn endearing.
Actually, I had a moment like that once a few years ago — it was right after church and I was walking behind a woman of about 70 (old in her own right) helping her mother (easily 90) — and was so patient and sweet. I completely started to weep at the notion that someday me and my mom will be old, and I hope she’s still around.
We’re girls. We’re emotional. We cry. It’s what we do. :)
Have a great weekend.
Egan, I am an idiot. You can kick my big fanny anytime….I deserve it…
Bridget – no harm, no foul. I do like to kick stuff though. Let me read your blog and see where you live. This could be fun. You sure want me to kick your fanny still?
I dropped it off at the publisher’s today. And it starts out with the assy text you sent to me today. Do you want to know that I smelled it, 5 states away?
Hey, everyone. Wanna know what she texted me? *snickering*
Egan, I solicited butt kicking as a punishment not foreplay but what the heck!!! I live in the Great White North (ottawa canada)…far from everything normal (sigh)….
p.s. Egan just checked out your blog–you’re a jock! no way can you kick my butt unless you wear a whole lotta socks and no shoes.
K?
“Um, who’s speaking please? Kris? Hmm… yeah. Give me a second. I was about to say ‘Don’t you be calling my man, be-otch,” but I’m trying to thing of a nicer word than be-otch…”
I’m just recovering from that damn movie.
It’s hard to keep up with the blogosphere, so much is happening…I’m finding it super difficult and I don’t even know anybody!
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