It took me a while, but finally I realized that the comments section on this blog is broken. At first when I saw zero comments on post after post I thought, “huh, no one is commenting!” and while that would make some bloggers despondent, I just took it to mean that everyone agreed with my wisdom and were also rendered speechless by the same. Or at least commentless.
But then I started to get some emails, tweets, and skywritings from people who couldn’t leave a comment and wanted to know what the hell was going on and I had to “I could have had a V-8” smack my forehead and come to grips that something was very wrong. Irreparably so, apparently.
The problem with having something wrong blog-wise is that it is really the last thing that I need right now. Because it’s one of those problems for which people have very little sympathy and I’m one of those people who doesn’t see the point of having a problem that doesn’t elicit sympathy from people. This is why I highly recommend divorce. You could be having the Best Divorce Ever, really, tripping the light fantastic, and yet everyone will treat you with respect and kid gloves. Incidentally, do you think that kid gloves are made out of goats or are they just really small and ill-fitting gloves?
Oh, right. You can’t answer.
Anyway, I contacted the authorities and hopefully help is on the way soon. Or right after they find the Lindbergh baby, IDK.
Meanwhile, please know that I am living a very full and exciting life and that Mama and Papa are being as adorable as always, except they have been suffering too, as they have been invited to a 3 day destination wedding and Friday night is “smores and sing-a-long” night at the beach with instructions to “bring your own guitar!” and Mama told me, confidentially, that she doesn’t have a guitar and wondered if she should borrow one.
Oh, and my hair is now reddish. Certain friends have suggested that this has Midlife Crisis written all over it, but I just wanted to go back to my natural color.
I’m the one who looks like me, but with reddish hair. The other woman is Sarah, who colored my hair. A former friend who saw the photo thought she was my daughter. May he rest in peace.
When my daughter saw my hair she was delighted and informed me that redheads would become extinct soon, so I knew I was on the right path. My son had a slightly different reaction and gasped, “OMG, MOM, WHO DID THIS TO YOU?” and when I explained that I hadn’t actually beed abducted and dyed against my will, he shook his head sadly at the unexplainable nature of adulthood and murmured something like “it’s just not normal to have your own mom look so different.”
But I can’t go into all of that because my comments section is broken and it would just feel like I’m talking to myself.
So I’ll wait until the comments are working again. Because I love you that much. You should probably write to your Congressman and demand some action on this issue.
UPDATE: Comments are now working. Which makes this post sort of pointless. Unlike all the other, pointed posts.
BTW, if you haven’t checked it out yet, I’m hosting the monthly book club discussion over at Alpha Mom. Come visit me over there, it’s very fancy, with working comments and everything!
One year ago ...