Before I get into the subject matter of the title, let me just say I’ve decided to go with the flow.

In general, I am NOT a ‘go with the flow’ person. I am a ‘battle upstream and crush the will of anyone trying to oppose my agenda’ person…not that I’m proud of that.

At the same time, I am a true believer in nature/nurture, and – as near as I can tell – it’s all nature, baby.

My mother tells a story that I was 18 months old and playpen-bound, when my father and she started some minor remodeling. Apparently they were repainting the living room, and put me (in said playpen) in the room while they worked. (And Dad, feel free to chime in if this is nonsense, as this is not a story where I come out looking like Ms. Awesome Toddler 1974.)

And by day two I was throwing every toy in the pen at them and screaming at the top of my lungs.

This may or may not be true.

However, when I imagine having to sit in a small, enclosed space and watch two people paint and ignore me, the thought of having stuff to throw at them is strangely calming. So I don’t rule it out.

What I’m saying is that I am wired to be HIGHLY STRESSED by the current f-ed up state of the blog (appearance -wise. I am, in fact, cogently aware and grateful that it’s up and visible and more or less intact despite it all, and I’m willfully focusing on that fact. Actually, the last time the blog went nuts I suggested moving to a ‘generic’ format: Black on white, non-de-script font, and UPC codes here and there . Zen and non-committed blog, if you will).

Anyway, nature aside, I’ve decided to embrace the chaos and go with it and trust that it will work out (via the excellent feedback of my genius readers or some other measure) one way or another.

Make it so.

MEANWHILE…the oysters of the world are onto me.

Word has spread.

So if you have an oyster serial killer streak, I suggest that you do not start a blog and commence bragging about it. Never mention the words ‘oyster’ and ‘it puts the cocktail sauce in the basket’ in the same sentence.

‘So, what’s happened?,’ you ask.

Well, I discovered that the even more local grocery store will sell you SIX monster great-great-grandfather oysters for $.20 each (six for $1.25…whatever that works out to) and those oysters are trying to kill me.

Seriously, I am skilled and I am determine, but those bastards will not budge.

So I was working on a dandy that was at least 2″ by 7″ (a monster! The oysters inside border on unmanageable and – this coming from me – unappetizing. Ron Jeremy is fascinating in theory, but not on the half-shell), and I had my typical towel/oyster knife/hand protection stance going, and I got in under the joint and wedged the knife deep and twisted…and felt the cold spray of mud and the hard impact of calcium as the shell shattered and hit me like a bullet.

Seriously.

It split my lip.

And covered my face in mud, but that was secondary.

In short, egg on your face is nothing next to oyster in your lip.

And watch your back, fellow oyster killers.

They’re reading the blogs, and they’re pissed.

I’m in hand-to-hand combat with an abysmal internet connection.

This is only  marginally preferable to no internet connection (i.e. my status for the last couple days).

To catch you up, I’m staying in a little cabin right off the water and shirking all of my primary responsibilities. I’ve come to appreciate that responsibility shirking may be what I was put on this earth to do. That or sleep and have crazy dreams, a skill I possess to a degree that can only be called a gift.

What I was NOT put on this earth to do includes (in no particular order):

• Downhill ski
• Salsa dance
• Keep African Violets alive
• Anything involving staring into people’s open mouths and touching their teeth.
• Work on a chain gang
• Mule drugs across the Mexican border
• Ultimate fight
• Snowboard
• Put false eyelashes on other people
• Raise pigeons/squab/any other secret code for ‘pigeon’
• Belly dance
• Teach at clown school
• Wrestle midgets in pudding (learned THAT the hard way!)
• Impersonate Madonna
• Stalk Madonna
• Forge checks drawn on any of Madonna’s bank accounts
• Name hurricanes (although I do feel it’s time we dug into the more ethnic names: Huricanes Beyonce, Cheech, and Plaxico already!)
• Skateboard professionally
• Build a rocket ship that actually works
• Swallow swords
• Swallow fire
• Swallow swallows
• Strip dance

I could go on, but it will get boring, and I care about you too much to do that to you.

However, on the topic of strip dancing, I do have something to share: You see, I remembered something yesterday while I was running in the woods. I’m doing a 12K race on Sunday, and I’ve been running a longer distance than usual – and doing so faster than usual – in the hopes of finishing in under an hour. Thus, I have additional time on my hands with which to think worthless thoughts.

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