I made a big mistake.
I went back into some of my own archives and did some reading.
My conclusion is that my writing of late is sadly lacking. To say it has been less than scintillating, [I love that word] would be generous. I am missing Bogwillow and would love to take a trip there. But it's like I don't have the train fare or something. And I suspect that Dr. Rubber Duckie feels I am not taking him seriously enough and has turned tail on me. [He pretends to be a REAL Rubber Duckie lately and stares over his shoulder at me with those painted on eyes in a most disconcerting way.]
In my defense, ( And doesn't she need one desperately?).... I have been, well, there is no easy way to say this, DEPRESSED Though I could make up some silly rhymes about it and try to laugh it off... thusly:
There was an old woman from Glum,
She did nothing but suck on her thumb.
One day it got sour
And for over an hour
She had to eat chocolate.... the crumb!
But not today. Today I am manic. [Though I have a feeling this will be a short lived condition. The ragged edges of Glumville are clearly in view.] But I have been singing at the top of my lungs, in various hideously goofy voices, the following verses from a song that they used to do on The Muppet Show. We had a record of it that the kids played about a thousand times, so it is firmly ensconced in my memory. Once you start singing it, you are doomed. You can't stop.
Lydia oh Lydia, say have you met Lydia,
Lydia, the Tatooed Lady.
She has eyes that folks adore so,
And a torso even more so.
Lydia oh lydia, that encyclopedia,
Oh Lydia the Queen of Tatoo.
On her back is the Battle of Waterloo.
Beside it the wreck of the Hespherous, too.
And proudly above waves the Red, White, and Blue,
You can learn a lot from Lydia.
La la la, la la la, la la la, la la la
Lydia oh lydia, say have you met Lydia,
Lydia the Tatooed Lady
When her muscles start relaxing,
Up the hill comes Andrew Jackson
Lydia oh Lydia, that encyclopedia,
oh Lydia the queen of them all!
For two bits she will do a mazurka in jazz,
With a view of Niagara that nobody has.
And on a clear day you can see Alcatraz.
You can learn a lot from Lydia.
La la la, la la la, La la la, la la la.
Lydia, oh Lydia that encyclopedia,
Oh Lydia the champ of them all.
She once swept an Admiral clear off his feet.
The ships on her hips made his heart skip a beat.
And now the old boy's in command of the fleet,
For he went and married Lydia!
So there you have it.
I suppose it is superior in it's whacky way, than crying for no real good reason. Or napping when I'm not really sleepy. Or baking endless batches of brownies. Yesterday I broke up the cycle a bit and made tapioca pudding. Did you know if you put a little pile of chocolate chips in a bowl and pour over that, some hot tapioca pudding and wait about half an hour for it to cool a bit you get some really kick _ _ _ chocolate tapioca pudding with no fuss? I highly recommend it. But it won't keep you from being depressed. It will just be chocolate tapioca pudding.
Sigh.
Anyway. This is my way of explaining what I perceive to be my lack of scintillation in writing these days. I felt I owed it to you my patient readers, and to the part of myself that is on vacation. Though I do not think that vacation is being taken at any spa or island paradise. More like a funny farm somewhere far from the public eye.
Though come to think of it..... THIS is a pretty public place in'nit?
Oh dear.
Peri-Menopause is not for the faint of heart.
It's for the birds.