Excuse Note

You’ve probably noticed that I haven’t blogged for a while. I mean — “List on the 3s” notwithstanding, you haven’t really seen any new material from me. This is because I’ve been busy.

And constipated. Tonight marks the end of the eight-day holiday of Passover — one whose dietary restrictions react with the colon like a bunch of “Tea Party” attendees who accidentally got lost and found their way to a Phish concert: there could possibly be some synergy and sweet music, but it eventually gets painfully confrontational and people ultimately plead for a peaceful evacuation.

(Now that I’ve got the biological humor out of the way…)

Life has been busy on many different fronts: As I mentioned last week, my Dad just sold his house. (Yay!) And this being one of the major Jewish holidays, we’ve been spending a lot of time with family. Av’s Spring Break coincides with Passover — a departure from the daily grind. We celebrated the first evening of Passsover with my Dad and his girlfriend at their place. It was quite nice.

And then my brother and sister-in-law were in town! It was great seeing them. As well as my aunt (Mom’s sister) and uncle. Always a pleasure. It’s just nice to be able to step away from the computer for a while and partake of family. I’m happy that I’ve got a great one.

Part of my trip to my Dad’s, however, had another motive. There were still quite a few boxes of stuff that we had to go through and claim. My Mom was known to save absolutely everything and anything — papers, report cards, birthday cards and notes. She was also quite organized about everything: It was interesting seeing a shoebox of personal checks from the 1970s and 80s that were still in pristine shape.  I didn’t take those. But I took many boxes of books, my old schoolwork, and credit card solicitations from my college years that I never got around to “processing.”

I found a note I had written my parents one evening when my brother was babysitting. I suppose I had to write it as a proactive measure for not getting all of my homework done or something. It was the best way to address when I was in trouble — and, believe me, I was an expert at that.  But it would serve as a measure to (a) address the issue before they had a chance to do so; and (b) carefully divert blame to my brother.  I was clever. I was a genius.  I already knew how to beat the system nearly three decades ago. It was the early 1980s and nothing could stop me.

And thus, dear readers, I’m applying this same strategy now. I know I haven’t blogged lately, but I’m presenting a proactive excuse note for your consideration.

(I just don’t have the time to craft a new one; the following is an encore presentation of a note from 1981 to my parents.)