Alone and Naked with Yanni

I just got home after five days in Hotlanta where I visited my daughter and her husband, my beloved Miss America, Destructo, and Baby Shaboobka (See pic to the right. Note how helpful Miss America is at getting a cranky Destructo to smile). On walking through the door in Florida, I was slammed in the face with the realization that I don't like living alone. In fact, other than the delicious freedom to run around naked with ice cream and listening to Yanni full blast, it sucks, yo.

So thank you very much, children of mine, for growing up and turning out all independent and well-adjusted and smart and wonderful, and replicatin' yer bad selves with angels. Apparently my efforts to make you clingy and dependent and servile have failed miserably, and now you've gone and left me ALONE. You know how I hate doing my own laundry. I didn't raise you to be so cruel!

Oh, I hear what you're thinking people (because you know the code of support among bloggers). "Wow, Fragrant Liar should be happy. After all, she was an astonishingly mind-blowing single mother who singlehandedly raised FOUR DAUGHTERS."

I know! The horrormones! The horrormones! Pity me.

And this, in keeping with the code of support, no doubt: "That Fragrant Liar, she is the maternal model of sainthood. Her kids actually still like her! Praise Prozac."

I know! Even my parents adore me (after the dog)! I totally can't help it.

Oh but please, I'm much too modest to take ALL the credit. The girls did, after all, have a sperm donor. I think he donated elsewhere, too, so he does have a smidge of generosity. Yes, it's in his pants. But you have to give him credit. His strategy for never paying child support or calling or sending birthday cards or showing up worked brilliantly.

I know! The girls lucked out and got the "Oh yeah?" snotty gene from me. In spite of being fatherless, they RAWK!

Alas, I am still here on my own, lamenting how far away my kids are and how living alone is not remotely part of my true calling. But until I meet someone who thinks I'm as extraordinary as I do (Shhh! Don't forget the code!), I guess I will just have to make due with Yanni.

Aw, it's okay. It's Rocky Road day.
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