miracle on 34th gate

First off, I must apologize for my extended absence, which I hope someone noticed. I was frankly exhausted by the insurrection (which btw, upstaged my goddam birthday!) and the congressional weasels who folded like cheap suitcases after they’d changed their soiled underwear, not to mention my being extremely disappointed in the incredible short sightedness of our founding fathers in not anticipating that some day an egomaniacal, immoral, sadistic, very unattractive grifter might just come along and run for president and worse, that millions of god fearing patriotic americans would actually fall for his bullshit and elect him. Maga my ass, miasma’s more like it.

So I took a break to reflect on what’s fabulous about absolutely everything in my life, however that didn’t take very long, so I had to come up with another stall tactic. Got it: self care. Apparently it’s very au courant. I have no idea what it actually means other being completely self absorbed, which is not exactly a revolutionary notion, nor one to which I am opposed, so I thought if it’s good enough for gwyneth then it’s good enough for me ! I started with mindfulness, and being in the moment, which is a conundrum. If you are forcing yourself to be conscious of each and every fucking moment then you are obviously not actually in the moment. 

So, to accelerate my rehabilitation, a very merry holiday seemed in order, which the materfamilia (moi) pulled off by basically moving mountains (of cash) to get eight member of our distended family together for a hallmark vacay that would have put ole norman rockwell himself into a diabetic coma. However, on the return, MJE managed to book the OB&C and myself on separate flights. Now, aside from possibly being a freudian slip, it proved to be major headache, and you can bet your buttons I was in the goddam moment then. Despite my best imitation of a distraught, unhinged, befuddled old lady, the airline “help” agent wasn’t buying it and remained unmoved, instead handing me a slip of paper for a standby seat on the OB&C’s flight, tenth in line on a full flight. Tenth! I’ve never been tenth in anything, except when I was on the swim team and finally finished after everyone had gotten dressed and gone home, including my mother. Bowed but unbroken, I staggered over to the gate agent dragging my suitcase and coat, and again pled my case. It’s obviously been a rough week for airline personnel and their hearts have gone full on titanium, hence tenth I was and tenth I remained. I posted myself slumped against a pillar within his peripheral vision, found a crumpled cocktail napkin to dab my eyes and waited, eyeing with unbridled resentment as one after another clearly inferior standby passenger was waived aboard. Finally, when I had almost given in to despair, intensified by the fact that the crown room was closed because the pipes burst, my name was called and I was miraculously transformed from a barely conscious shell of a human being into an olympiad racing down the jetway, with the theme of chariots of fire ringing in my ears.

So, home again, refreshed (read: completely exhausted, mentally and financially, from a relaxing holiday) and ready to meet 2023 head on. So watch out, MJE’s back and badder than ever!

Happy new year!