Just So You Know...

Mrs. G. is solving a problem. She'll be back in a flash! A flash is like a day or two.

Full Confessional Friday!

Be it Venial or Mortal (there's no escaping Original), we've all got secrets -- light, dark, funny, sad -- worth bringing to light. The act of confession can be liberating, mollifying and entertaining. Contrition? Repentance? A shot of Tequila? That's your call, sister.

Photo: Woman using triangular ruler, United Rubber & Chemical Company
Creator: Robert Yarnall Richie (1908-1984), February, 1958. 

Mrs. G. Knows She Probably Doesn't Need To Write This But She Needs To Write This

In 33 days, Mrs. G. is getting into some car and driving 10,000 miles across the United States to meet many of you. Your enthusiasm and generosity have been overwhelming. You crazy floozies have opened your wallets and homes to a stout, mouthy blonde who has openly converses with imaginary husbands and stays up late at night mentally designing the Hugh Jackman bra.

Have you people lost your minds?

Mrs. G. only asks this question because today is the first day she has wondered if she has lost hers. Today is the first day she has begun what mental health professionals refer to as freaking the fuck out. Mrs. G, a woman who today (and this is not hyperbole) has been unable to locate her cell phone, debit card or driver's license, is crisscrossing the country relying on the faith and kindness of a group of people who self-identify as Derfwads.

Once more: have you people lost your minds?

As Mrs. G. told her daughter on the phone tonight, this will be one of the greatest or stupidest things she has ever done. Mrs. G. is still gambling on greatest but her daughter is concerned she will be killed by a grifter. Either scenario will provide years of engaging holiday table talk -- let grandma tell you about her big trip or grandma was at the wrong truck stop at the wrong time and, Lord, we miss her -- so, really, if you close one eye and tilt your head slightly to the right, it's a no lose situation.

But here's what Mrs. G. really wants to say. Mrs. G, most days, knows she's a fairly decent person but she is irregularly regular. She's got some razzle but could use some work on the dazzle. She's not selling herself short or seeking validation, she just wants to officially go on record that she's a mainly good-natured but slightly dented woman. Television viewers from the seventies will understand what she means when she cautions she is not Dallas but more like Knot's Landing, a Knot's Landing spin-off. Sue Ellen Ewing is not pulling into your driveway.

Is any of this making sense?

Does this help it make more sense?

As clearly stated in the title, Mrs. G. knows she probably didn't need to write this but she needed to write it because it helps her not spontaneously cry in public places. Joke. It just helps ease the terror that many of you probably have difficulty imagining. Some of you are fast, loose and fearless. She reads your blogs. Mrs. G. is just fast and loose.

So, in conclusion, please conclude that Mrs. G. just needed get this out of her system and that on June 18th, 2012, her ass is getting in the car.

And she is really looking forward to meeting you.

Just One Question This Wednesday

UPDATE: OK, we'll put in a categorized "Derf Assist List" message board. Mrs. G. appreciates the input, suggestions and hopes to have this accomplished in the next four weeks.

 

 

Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, it's at the end of your arm, as you get older, remember you have another hand: The first is to help yourself, the second is to help others. 

 ~ Audrey Hepburn

Mrs G. has been moved and galvanized by all the comments on this post and she is not going to allow the notion of helping each other achieve desires, tiny and huge, to fizzle out as the post moves down the page into the mess that is her archives.

Any suggestions on how we should organize this info so that bonafide dream filling ensues? Judging from what many of us would like to accomplish, we'd better get busy, like today busy.

We're going to make this real, right?