The Comeback Kid. Or, Why I Temporarily Let Crap Interrupt Life.

Oh, blog, how I've missed you. And humor, in general - I've missed you too. As I said on one of my more recent Facebook status updates (What's that? You're not fortunate enough to be the recipient of my sarcastic, often super cynical status updates because we're not yet "friends" on facebook? Well, let's change that. Find me on the Facebook and let's play "Popularity Contest for Adults" along with everyone else. It's America's new favorite game, bumping out Boggle for the top spot.), I've been in need of a really good, stomach hurting, obnoxiously loud laugh. (If I were a bearded, low voiced man from 1892 weilding an ax with a pheasant slung over my shoulder, I might even use the word "hearty.") That's my favorite thing to do, after all. Laugh.

It's amazing how much one "blah" thing/situation in your life affects every aspect of your life. (This is me being vulnerable and mysterious. Enjoy it.) I've been very noticably "off" lately and the worst part is how it's affected my ability to laugh easily. Very, very easily. I knew something was wrong every time I'd consider writing a new post on this here blog, and then just go, "Eh. Not up for it." WHAT?! Not up for making myself laugh at my own witticisms as I type by myself all the while texting Dawn to let her know she needs to read the newest post NOW?! Who are you, Michelle?*Shudder*

Something had to change. And something has, and so I'm seeing myself return to "normal" (insert cliched comment about normalcy), and I've definitely noticed that I'm back on the laughin' wagon....thanks mostly to Dawn. On wednesday, she prompted a nice, long, stomach pain inducing laugh. It was like I had had a breakthrough in a therapy session. (Which Dawn is also known for making happen when she inadvertently counsels me. Check's in the mail, Dawn.) And, the greatest part is, the laugh was entirely at my expense....and I still enjoyed the moment. Immensely.

So, like Burt Bacharach (spelling? Dawn, you'd know how to spell that, right? Heh heh.) would exclaim at a Vegas lounge full of retirees visiting from Boca Ratan, "I'm back, baby!"