Redemption . . . in the Form of an Update

Too much time has passed for me even to pretend that I maintain a blog, so I am here to redeem myself and get back on track. “Redemption,” as Switchfoot will tell you, “has stories to tell.” Which sounds ethereal and poetic, and sort of makes sense.

So, consider this a cheapo post full of odds and ends. Because that’s what it is.

Redemption and the stories it tells: First off, the process of redemption, as I see it, typically involves offering apologies and reasons for whatever. So to those of you who feel gypped when stopping by here and seeing the same tired post from Feb. 17, I am truly sorry. And to those of you demanding an explanation, I have been very, very preoccupied by weather disturbances, bizarre dreams and jobs that actually pay. And a ridiculous sinus problem that is far worse than my husband’s, no matter what he says. I’m the martyr around here.

The dreams: The weather patterns of late have alternated between snow, rain and 70-degree days, creating sinus problems, near hearing loss and debilitating headaches that called for medication pronto, which led to the restless nights and bizarre dreams. Relief came quickly, driving along in a Ford Fairlane.

In one dream, I was zipping through town in a Ford Fairlane much like this one. My model was convertible and had a three-speed on the column. As my minivan-driving fans drove past me, giving me looks, I yelled, "Take a picture. It lasts longer." Because that's what clever muscle-car girls do. They tell people off.

The worms and the wormy worms who create them: In recent days, I have continued to fight off yet another worm in my computer, inventing colorful strings of words for the losers who sit around in their mothers’ basements, crafting viruses and malware in the hopes that they can retrieve a password or two and corrupt my poor computer, which isn’t hurting anybody and is sort of vital to earning a paycheck around here.

This isn't me. I don't wear suits. But I did lie on the floor beside my desk more than once this week, waiting for the fool thing to scan and burp, or whatever it does while it tries to diagnose itself. I'm pretty sure I held my forehead like this, too.

Pretense, with a side of cream cheese: And on Wednesday, I pulled myself up and went to Panera, the hub of local activity and the hot social scene in these parts, where “hot” equals a high concentration of laptop computers and overpriced condiments. What a showy, pretentious world we live in, I thought, as I paid as much for a dollop of cream cheese as I paid for the bagel it would ride. I’ve been known to bring my own coffee and creamer to Panera. Next time, I’m bringing my own cream cheese. Panera, rest stop…same thing.

And finally, a reading recommendation: Between bouts of lying on the floor, while using another computer, I came across this, which eloquently syncs with my views on Facebook and made me laugh out loud. Open your mind, let down your defenses, and you’ll laugh, too, you crazy Facebookers. (Yes, Todd, that means you.)