Baby Showers and Bliss...

I'm blissed out because my daughter Hannah's baby shower (first baby!) was today, and it was such an event...the friends, the family, the food, decorations, presents, all of it was just .....

special.  Completely special.  It rocks to be me.  Unless you have to open your mouth and actually talk.  I'll explain in a minute.

I'm bummed out because I brought my camera to the shower and everything, but as soon as I booted it up, the little red "low battery" light came on.  One of life's lessons in the Age of Technology, I guess - "Always Have Extra Batteries." 

I didn't.

However, enough other people took pictures that I should have a few to post soon.

I'm running into one other problem, however (other than the "low battery" thing) and that is my brain.  Seriously, people, someone tell me what is wrong with me.  This week especially, I have noticed that I can think one thing, open my mouth, and something else comes out.  How does that even happen?

I think, at the shower, I meant to say, "What a cute and very tiny outfit!" and instead, the thing that came out was, "My hair went to the store because the weather report needed the exercise." 

I know I've been pretty sick with this darn headcold.  I know my back has been hurting "like junk" (as Isaac would say)... but really.

Really.  Seriously?  Is this what I have to look forward to?

I think I am just getting old and tired. 

At the baby shower, I actually heard someone say to my daughter, "Your mom looks pretty slammed..."  (as in pathetically pathetic...not hung over.)

Crap.  And I even tried.  I was trying to look like The Gorgeous Young Grandmother-to-be.  It didn't offend me or even depress me, because it was said with more pity and compassion than you'll ever know.  (This mom has a soldier in Iraq right now...)

::interrupting myself - which one can do when one has several selves, each of whom wants her turn on the Blog World Stage::

Hilarious.  My husband just called me from the other room, and my response, before I could think or sensor myself was, "I am not getting out of this bed."  He has not dared to page me again.  Smart man.

I should probably just go to sleep now.  And not talk anymore until pigs fly -  or menopause, whichever comes first.  But blogging is such sweet therapy, since this is the only place that what I am actually thinking comes out in any sort of coherent fashion.

I am so much cooler online, ya'll.  I make sense and everything.  Be envious.  Be very envious.  Not everyone needs a keyboard to know what's on their mind.  Not everyone's fingers respond like mine.  Faithful digits, they are.  I can always depend on them to tell me whatever it is I am truly thinking and feeling.

Just don't call me on the phone, okay?  Because I'll have to use my mouth.  And something startling or incomprehensible is always coming out of it lately.  I want you to be able to understand me.  Maybe just Facebook or email me.

Harvest Church is in a very, very difficult position.  I make all the necessary announcements on Sunday mornings.

Wonder what my mouth will say?
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