Wanna know what you missed?

So, I'm not sure if anyone noticed, but I didn't blog for several months. The reasons are all tangled up in the red tape of international adoption, one family's horrifying experience with confusion about that red tape and an entry on their blog, and my confessed inability to discern what kinds of things are "appropriate to discuss" (ask anyone about this special character trait of mine....it's one of my most identifiable and longstanding eccentricities!). Therefore, I abstained (from WRITING blogs, but not from reading them....I was a crazy ravenous bloghound for four months). Here's what you missed:

One day, I went into Kroger to buy deodorant. I was met with one of the great uncomfortable shopping interruptions == a store worker was shelving exactly the item I intended to purchase, placing her awkwardly betwixt my stuttering reach and the chalise of Secret that I sought. After several lifetimes (read: probably a second or two) of peering alternately over her shoulder and under her armpit (gross irony, right?), I finally abandoned any hope of "Selecting" my deodorant, and made a wicked mad (you know, wicked, as in NKOTB "wicked awesome" jargon....not mean or vicious. If you know what NKOTB stands for.....you ROCK!!!) grasp for anything in that particular shade of powder blue and dashed away (I think I really did dash, too. When I make up my mind to remove myself from an awkward situation....I usually do it with a kind of twitchy fervor). The next morning, as I prepared to slather the concoction that I bought with my dignity onto my underarms (graphic, no?), I glanced at the label to see what scent I had snatched (I'm not even sure what punctuation to include at this moment to illustrate the eyebrow-raising "huh" moment inserted here....how about a colon?): Vanilla Chai Latte. I think that's really what it was called. Like, the drink. Anyway, after a likely audible "huh" of surprise, I put on my deodorant, and headed out for the day. I can't tell you how upsetting it is to smell tea whenever you grow nervous or anxious and then realize that that smell is emanating from your underarms!!! While all the other women at the crowded, sweaty park smell vaguely of Morning Mist or Fresh Spring Blossoms, I smell like Starb*cks! Not even Starb*cks, though, really....because it was more of a weak Earl Grey than a broad coffee smell. Just enough to make people look around for the absent cup. "Huh." Each day, the smell became more and more annoying to me, to the point that I began to wonder if body odor wasn't just a better option than Vanilla Chai Latte. It isn't. So it's tea for me until I've exhausted all two dollars and seventy eight cents of this deodorant and can move forward with a clean conscience and powder-fresh armpits.

And, one day (maybe even the same day. That would be weird! It all kind of runs together), as I was driving to pick up a friend, I approached potentially the most unwieldy intersection in our city. Three lanes rapidly move into two as they approach a four way stop. None of the lanes is marked for a merge, and the lines aren't clear as the merge occurs. I was half a length in front of the mini-van behind me when I merged (chose, really...it's hard to know who did the merging) into the "I'm going straight" lane. This move made the man driving the minivan really REALLY angry. I offered the obligatory glance-in-the-rearview-mirror-and-wave-remorsefully, but he CONTINUED to flail about screaming at me! For several miles! And when I turned onto another road, he honked a bunch of times to let me know that he was still displeased. Seriously. When someone cuts me off (assuming I DID Indeed cut him off, which I am not wholly willing to concede), I generally have an instant or two of indignation, and then I think "Oh, I've had that happen to me. No harm done. Whatever" and move on, and if they give the obligatory remorseful wave! Well, my affrontery melts instantly! I feel that we have already become friends, and I somehow sympathize with their merging difficulty --All ill will gone. But not this guy. I can only imagine that somehow he felt I had launched a two lane assault on his manhood or that I was resolving a personal grudge against his family by insisting on reaching that intersection first. I just kept thinking "Buddy," (this is a word that should only be used in conversation with very small children or when anomously addressing other drivers), "you are already driving a minivan! Let go that uber-masculine machismo!" But he did not! I had to suffer a whole lot of potentially rude gestures (I have no idea) and a series of sustained honks before his vengance could be appeased. It actually took me awhile to get over the mingled humiliation, frustration, and self-righteousness of our encounter. In fact, I'm not. I'm not completely over it. I'm weirder than him. He muttered for, what, maybe an hour, and I'm sitting here, untold weeks hence, blogging about him! I wonder if he has a blog!

I think I've filled in all the important stuff from my blogger sabbatical.
Have a good night.