Intervention

Today is an experiment in my addiction to social media. I have this habit of waking at 5:30 , in the morning, and I roll over and have to see what possibly has happened in the world overnight. 

I don't mean CNN, I mean FaceBook, Twitter,Google+, you name it. I have, I am ashamed to admit, gotten my "newsfeed" from these sources along with a good dose of WTF and OMG's. Add to the list Pinterest,FarmVille,and now BubbleWitch.

My home life is suffering, nothing gets done,My Love is growing thin from lack of food because cooking just gets in the way, our laundry will sit over a week before being turned over like a compost heap. I will spend hours trying catch up on break-ups, pictures of who got a very expensive present and being introduced to extended family members squabbles and secretly enjoying the view from my safe distance.

I realized this morning, at 5:45, my sickness and am now trying to wean myself off gradually. I deactivated my FB account. I could not make a clean break of it and checked off the temporary box. I need a support group. I felt a chill as I navigated from that page. I saw spots, felt cramps, was sweating, felt my tongue starting to swell.

I wondered if my life would ever make sense again, if this would speed up the apocalypse,would I now be a victim to the zombies of social media, those who live their lives around being involved in every aspect of their 100,000 plus friends lives.

As the sun started coming up and I slowly made my way out of bed I felt nausea start to take over and immediately opened a can of biscuits and sat with a stick of butter waiting to devour them. I barely let them get brown in the oven before I ripped them out to swallow them and followed that with the butter chaser.

There are some things I am not willing to give up such as reading blogs, (The Bloggess for my reality checks and L. E. Perez Novel Reads, just so I seem to have some kind of class) but when my palms finally stop sweating I will move on to the other websites that have made their tracks in my brain and consider which one to deactivate next until I am down to the "crack" of my choice.

It's all about baby steps people.

For a good time call Wanda

Everyday that I get in my car is a crap shoot.

I worry all the while when this wonderful, nay, this amazing piece of machinery I own gets me from point A to point B.  Her name is Wanda.  Wanda is a 2004 Grand Caravan, a more temperamental 8 year old you'll never find.  Wanda has gotten us from the most rural areas in Vermont to Central Florida and out to Oklahoma.
The crap shoot part is when you realize that Wanda is nearing the 200,000 miles mark. You never know if you are going to actually make it to point B or if you will need a tow truck at point A 1/2.

She shimmies in a way that makes you want to throw dollar bills at her cup holder. She squeals , shakes, and groans causing one to blush because she seems to be having a better time than you at prom.
Not only that, but I should add that my driving, (there are no witnesses) leaves something to be desired because of my inability to follow street directions. So Wanda and I will wander aimlessly through unknown areas in the city looking for the corner store to which I have already been countless times when I have my daughter, the human compass, in the car with me.
When I'm alone guess who I call, My Love.

Me " you were right , that street does go both ways"
My Love " where were you going"
Me "the supermarket "
My Love " it's at the end of the block, where are you ?"
Me " I lost track a couple of miles ago"
My Love " I'll forward your mail"

Point A to B, MY WAY