Delusions of Grandeur: August 2011

Although my communication as of late has suggested otherwise. As always, enough whining and complaining from my clamoring fans (all two of you) has prompted yet another statement from my agent affirming that I am alive, definition-wise.

My excuse as to why I stopped writing has always been the same. So much has happened in the, uh, more-than-a-year (oops) that it's too overwhelming to write about everything. So I've decided to sum up. Those of you who remember me know that I'm incapable of truly summing up anything and ramble on and on and on, mostly so I can hear the monotonous tone of my own voice. So we'll just do that.

K, last June-July (2010) the Delusional Family took another trip up to Maine. What's not to love about Maine? Or rather, what's not to love about driving to Maine with several small children and staying in a decidedly non-kid-friendly house for over a week? Lots, as it turns out. Worst. Vacation. Ever. "But Abby, that Titanic vacation probably sucked pretty hard. I mean, all the screaming, and the drowning, and the..." NO! WORST. VACATION. EVER. The screaming on the decks of the Titanic paled in comparison to the screaming in our minivan on the 16-hour drive up and the 13-hour drive home. Most of my time in the deathtrap that was our car was spent either handing toys to a shrieking baby or fervently praying the Husband didn't drive off the side of the nearest cliff just to end it all. Why do our children hate us so? Why does the baby cry at all available opportunities until passing out from exhaustion, only to be awakened when the toddler sees her sleeping and gleefully screams until she wakes up? And why did we bother saving that same-said boy's life when he repeatedly tried to end it by balancing on the two-story deck on the back of a chair? Or when he did his best to destroy everything in that entire house and for the third time in as many vacations there the Husband had to repaint the children's room to cover the glaring evidence of our having stayed there? I defy any survivor of a world-famous disaster to beat my tales of woe at the next group therapy session. NEVER AGAIN.

On the other hand, I did score some wonderful photos while we were there and I didn't even erase them all this time! The next time you see me, be sure and high-five me for that one.

So then what? Huh. I think I've discovered the solution to my too-overwhelmed-to-blog issue. Wait long enough and you can't remember anything anyway. Problem solved! All right then, moving on.

Miss Misty and I have started our own book club because everyone else's book clubs suck, including yours. Our first book is "Washington: a Life" by Ron Chernow. I hope the title didn't spoil it for you, but it's about the life of George Washington. I've been intensely interested in becoming more intimately acquainted with the Father of our Country for some time, particularly since I refused to believe he was as boring as every history text book has ever made him out to be. And I was right! As usual! I've barely made a dent into that enormous doorstop/murder weapon and I've already discovered a side of Washington no one ever talks about in schools. He was vain and ambitious, had a volcanic temper, had a mother he probably dreamed of throwing off the nearest tall building, and suffered an unrequited crush on his best friend's wife. He was tall and handsome, but intensely self-conscious about his bad teeth and facial smallpox scars. He was egotistical but shy, and anything but a ladies' man, but surrounded by female admirers for much of his life. Awkward in social situations, but a wonderful dancer. Deadly serious, but loved a good dirty joke. Like most of us, he was full of contradictions and reading about them makes him human and real. Something fun to consider: Washington nearly single-handedly started the French and Indian War (it's not everyone who can put "Started a War by Myself" on their resume). We can also thank the proud British for refusing Washington a regular British Army officer commission, despite the fact that he undoubtedly deserved one. He never forgot the slight and it came back to bite them in the butt when his resentment towards the British culminated in, "Why yes, I would like to lead the Revolutionary forces against the British Army for our country's independence. How did you guess?" It's a book I can already highly recommend. Once we've finished this mammoth of a biography some time in the next decade, we promised we'll go see Mount Vernon again to celebrate. Who's with us?? This Book Club Presentation has been brought to you by My Efforts to Talk Endlessly About Myself.

What else? Oh, we're moving. Not far, but I figured since most of my JERK FRIENDS were moving, I might as well, too. JERKS. JERKS. JERKS. 'CAUSE THAT WON'T COME UP IN THERAPY EITHER OR ANYTHING.

Wanna see some vacation pics? Of course you do. Especially since you'll never see any ever again.