Don't call it a comeback

Updated: Nov 14, 2019

A couple of years ago I spilled a glass of cabernet on my Macbook. All I could do at the time was try not to cry as I opened it to a 90 degree angle, rested it on it’s side and watch as the wine dripped out of the keyboard while repeatedly uttering expletives.

All things considered, it turned out okay. The only consequence being that if I haven’t opened my laptop in an extended period of time the keys will stick excessively and I have limited use of the spacebar until I perform a series of rituals that include, but aren’t limited to; shaking it, blowing on the keyboard and practicing my yoga breathing.

Recently, I opened my laptop for the first time since Rinn and I successfully wrapped up our first year of homeschooling (patting myself on the back, still) and I couldn’t get a single key to budge. I hammered away at them like a lunatic praying that I wasn’t about drop $1000 at Best Buy. They eventually shook loose but not before my husband wandered by and asked,

“Oh! Are you writing something?”

Ashamed, I hung my head. “No.”

Normally this is the post in which I’d rattle off a bunch of reasons that revolve around being too busy followed by false promises of posting more. The truth is, I haven’t been writing because I’m not busy, not even a little bit.

I am no longer carrying 12 college credits every semester. I decided to take a break from higher education and instead pursue spiritual enlightenment through yoga and getting the recommended eight hours of sleep each night. I sometimes feel like Frankie Avalon might appear in my daydreams and croon about my unclear future and that there’s no graduation day for me but I’ve found solace in the fact that nothing I want to do with my life requires me to suffer while pouring over textbooks for another two years.

So far that list includes:


hobby farm proprietor,

dog walker,

group fitness instructor specializing in barre classes and goat yoga,

and President of the United States.

That last one MIGHT require a degree but the way I figure it, the American people elected Donald Trump so pretty much everyone in this country stands a fighting chance of becoming leader of the free world. I’ve already developed a solid framework for this healthcare fiasco and I have some killer pantsuits on standby for such an occasion as a presidential inauguration.

Anyway, it seems dropping out is contagious because Rinn made the heartbreaking decision to quit homeschooling and pursue his educational endeavors within the confines of the public school system. Ideally he wanted to “live in the wild and be free”, his words not mine, but more than that he wanted “real friends” and this school district has reassured me that corporal punishment isn’t within their practices. Truth be told, I don’t think they believed me in the first place when I started prattling on about schools in Arkansas wanting to beat my son.

So we enrolled him in the local primary school and Travis and I spend our days doing adult things; like playing golf, Law & Order SVU marathons and taking really long and not-quite-necessary naps.

It’s a good thing I previously lectured on never saying never because I’m dancing again. Break out the party favors because I have finally landed that elusive one-show-a-day gig. However, if you put money on my retirement being short-lived (4 months and 16 days to be exact) don’t try to collect just yet. I spent the last five years doing 2-5 shows a day so this is my version of being a Wal-Mart greeter.

My only source of stress now is finding reliable childcare and my golf swing.

You see, I’ve recently taken up golf and not in the sense that I just drink beer and drive the cart. I assumed buying golf clubs is what semi-retired people who live at the beach do. Also I did one lap around the PGA Tour Superstore and knew I needed a legitimate reason to wear one of those fun pleated skorts. However, as a perfectionist with mild OCD tendencies I have never been good at not being good at things.

Not only am I not good at golf, I’m bleeping terrible.

I’ve found more success and consistency in heaving my clubs as far as I can than I have in actually hitting the ball. If you were to wander by me at the driving range you might think I was training to throw the javelin. But Travis and Rinn love it and I’m not one to turn down quality time with my favorite guys so I keep swinging. Or throwing things, whatever.

So, when I’m not raising hell at the range or texting a long list of babysitters I’ll be here. But I expect your vote in 2020.

Also, if you're wondering why Rinn is wearing a belt with shorts that don't need a belt then you probably aren't a parent. Classic case of pick and choose your arguments; ignoring the fact that those shorts didn't even have belt loops, and clearly not caring how ridiculous he might appear,


end of story.

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