There's something caught in my throat. No, I mean it. Literally. Something small. Something sharp. Something very, very tenacious wedged behind a tonsil or something. And it's driving me CRAZY!
Seriously folks. It's about to do me in. Stupid, fancy, whole-grain Norwegian bread with all its unrefined bits of cereal flotsam! Caught in my throat I tell you! I've been hacking, gagging, gargling, retching all day long trying to disgorge the offending nugget, but to no avail.
Help me! How do I get rid of it?
In other news--there is no other news. In fact, lately I've been giving serious thought to shutting down this two-bit operation due to the exhaustive thoroughness of my lack of news.
I guess I could always turn this into one of those newsy, updatey types of family affairs (which, granted, I guess it is anyway) where I do nothing but recap the weeks events from EM's first day of Jazz dance (loved it) to my record breaking run around Kalandsvatne (rocked it). But, honestly, who the hell cares?
From the very beginning I thought it would be more interesting to focus on single moments of whimsy or snark worthy folly to keep you all in our family's loop rather than a more pedestrian run-down of the weekly minutia of our life. But lately, it seems my radar for these rarified gems and vignettes has gone off. Or, more to the point, my ability to write about them as gone down the toilet.
To wit, I spent three days last week writing a long entry about how EM's 101 questions about God and his ilk have finally filtered down to The Boy, and how my artless avoidance of the subject has now got Poor Boy in such a theological muddle I fear Thomas Aquinas himself couldn't set him straight. But by the time I got through the whole piece, I realized that rather than conveying how charming their curiosty is versus how hapless I am at fielding these awkward religious matters, I only sounded like a grumpy atheist. Worse--a grumpy atheist with a thesaurus.
I ended up dumping the whole thing in the recycle bin, and left to find nirvana in a yoga class instead. Which is pretty much where I've been since.
Oh, and hey, speaking of which, if God could be said to be found in a really deep hamstring stretch...there ya' go EM! Two hands to Jesus! I'm a believer! It felt just.that.good.