« Sketches of Papa | Main | A Blog Is A Blog, No Matter How Small, Dude »

January 27, 2009


Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.

Suz Broughton

Now I feel like a jerk. I am catching up with you and started at the beginning when I should have started at the end. What slump? Have to read on.
I'm glad you are all better and I can't tell you how many times the cops have caught me in a flood of tears, weeping into a Kleenex. But this is about you...
(PS You know I think you're brilliant, right?)

Charlie Hills

I don't know why I read this, "You are very kind and mean so much to me." like this, "You are very kind and so mean to me."

I just need to know if you tried the Cheez-Its at all.


I am so sorry that I've gotten behind in my blog reading and am catching up on your funk post just as you're posting the catharsis one. I've been in my own little world of work and etc. this last week. But I hope that things really are looking up for you a bit today. The post about your grandfather was lovely. Truly. Sending many hugs...

San Diego Momma

I will meet you in Funkytown.

Let's have a party.


One ringy dingy...
Two ringy dingies...

Old enough to get the Laugh-In allusion,


Rick's Cafe

It's not like you live in the city where there is always some type of action going on.....it's dark in the country.

I'm probably sounding like your father, sorry.

Kathi D

Dang it, I hate when I miss all the excitement because I am having a Big Ugly Cry. It turns my funk into a snit.

Bob Cleveland


"Hello, is this Cherry Tree, Tree Tree Tree Tree?

"No, this is Douglass Fir, Fir Fir Fir Fir."

"Oh. Sorry, wrong lumber".

OH .. on a more germaine note, what with my Lupron treatments, I get to have those crying jags too. And I've even started reading Good Housekeeping (I think it's printed in a foreign language).

Chesapeake Bay Woman

That police car was there to escort the Funk out of town. It appears to have been a successful departure. Glad you're not feeling funky anymore.

As I sit here in my bathrobe, when I am supposed to be at work (daughter is sick, but I probably still could have gone in - mother would have sat with her), all I can think about is hibernation. I don't want to leave the house, I am uninspired to write anything, and I hate my job.All I want to do is sleep.

Can you send that police officer due East? Thanks, I'll keep the light on for him.


oh hang in there, hon. things will get better. you won't forget the sadness, maybe, but you'll figure out a coping mechanism. and every now and again, you'll have the big blubbery cry again. and again. and you'll be okay with it. promise.

Mental P Mama

I hate it when I have a cryus interruptus. Glad you are better. Just visualize July.

The comments to this entry are closed.

My Photo

Find Me Online

Facebook Flickr Instagram Last.fm LinkedIn Pandora Pinterest StumbleUpon Technorati Twitter Vimeo YouTube