Chomping At The Bit

I feel compelled to write an update blog to the last one, since it's a pretty down post for one so short.

The day ended up much better than it began. It's a looooooooong story, but it's all working out so far, so there's no need to bore you with all the particulars. There's nothing like plopping yourself in the midst of 4 young children and subjecting them to a million kisses. Or getting chewed up cheez-it all over your jeans. So much sweetness, you can't help but be happy.

Everytime I come home, I have a small epiphany that gets me closer and closer to busting out of the gate. And it's always the same one, which is crazy. How can you have a repeat epiphany? Isn't that like, an oxymoron?

Anyway, things are on track for a fabulous party, Loretta-style, so you know there's meatballs. 200 to be exact. I might have to have one or two. Or five.

My mother, God love her. She's crazy. She asked me:

"How were the plastic forks at Target?"

"Well, like the ones we saw at the dollar store."

"See, I don't want flimsy ones. The flimsy ones can be for dessert."

"Mom. Seriously. It's a fork."

"But I don't want them to be cheap."

"I don't think anybody's going to leave the party saying, 'You know, Loretta's meatballs KICK ASS, but those PLASTIC FORKS! GAH! SO CHEAP!'"

I won that one. And yes, my mother makes the best meatballs on the planet, HANDS DOWN. I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY.

There's other stuff, of course. Private family stuff that factors into much of today's drama, stuff I have no control over. But that's the lesson itself. I have no control over that shit.

None.

So, that's the epiphany. The shit I can't control, I'm just leaving up to fate, destiny, whatever... The stuff I CAN control, well, I'm about to bend spoons with the sheer force of my will.

Lock up your flatware. And your cheap plastic forks! I'm about to break shit.