Somewhere Between Aardvarks and Zealots

I can't believe that I wrote 17 posts in April and only 1 for the whole (short) month of May! That's what happens when hero hubby gets pulled for jury duty (and selected) and you get left juggling the biz. That's why it's called business. It keeps you busy. And frenetic. And posting silly pics of our great friend Scott taking a bite out of a very big sandwich. And I have more where that came from. $10,000, small unmarked bills, delivered tomorrow or else.

Blogging is weird. To say the least. It's like a journal or a diary. I get that. And it's like a newsletter published in cyberspace. I get that, too. But am I supposed to expect people to read it? Does anyone read it? Am I writing to myself? Is it okay if I write it and it stays to myself? Will Clarice marry Jose and live happily everafter?

And then, my son Aaron and I went to Court this afternoon. He pled not guilty to a traffic ticket that he did not earn. It's a good thing the police officer did not show up, because I shot my mouth off and the judge didn't like it (not a big shooting, just a very tiny one really, the judge didn't have to take it the way he did. It wasn't meant for him, anyway. There is a purposeful echo in that room so everything carries.) So, if the officer had shown up, the judge would probably have bent over backwards to get Aaron convicted. As it is, he got off scott free so all is well.

This week, I realized a couple of faux pas I have made. (I realize I have made quite a few faux pas, in fact, thousands upon thousands of faux pas [see above judge angering] but I was reminded of a couple just the other day. It's hard to blog clearly, or anything else for that matter, when one has a snoring dachshund draped across one's arm.) I neglected to get addresses for all the people in Japan who did something nice for Ruthie and/or me while I was there. The 2nd is like it: I neglected to send thank you notes. One of the emails I was given doesn't work and I'm afraid to ask one of the others for it, because they would go to all kinds of trouble, and if they can't find it, they would feel as if they had failed me. Kind of like how I feel in the trucking industry. People ask me to find a truck for their freight to go from point A to point D and I move heaven and hell to find a truck for them, and I can't. And then I feel like a failure.

I wonder when my hero's trial will be over so he can be home? And will Clarice marry Jose or run away with Francois after all?