Hello my online pals. This is going to be short. I wanted to let you all know I am decidedly not dead, although occasionally lying in a pool of my own disoriented drool.
Have you missed me? No doubt you all have a long list of terribly urgent questions to ask, things like: Where are my witty albeit odd posts? What the hell is up with me? Have I learned how to spell judgement yet? Has that much needed growth spurt I’ve been waiting for my whole life finally arrived? Things of that nature. The answers are soon, I really couldn’t say, no not yet, and if anything I’m shrinking, in that order.
As some of you know, I have temporarily moved in with my parents until I get myself and my finances straightened out. They’ve been incredibly gracious and accommodating, (er…hi mom, see you at the breakfast table tomorrow morning…) But after living alone for over twenty years it’s been a bit of an adjustment. And I may have inadvertently put several of my synapses in storage along with all my worldly possessions. Which has made composing anything other than a few dirty limericks rather difficult.
Sidebar, are you aware that limerick is a much debated word in etymological circles? The simple explanation is that it comes from the Irish city of Limerick. That some gaelic poets with an axe to grind jousted in verses with a limerick metre. (We all know how belligerent those wordsmiths can get.) But the word was first documented in England in 1898 and was popularized by a man named Edward Lear in a book he wrote entitled “The Book of Nonsense”. (How sad are you that you have not published a tome called “The Book of Nonsense”?)
I will heretofore refer to this as the Post of Nonsense. You know I recently came across my first draft of an About page for this blog. It read as follows: “I am not processed cheese, I am not processed cheese, I am not processed cheese. If I were anything I might be a chocolate souffle, but alas I am not that either. I am however computer illiterate and very sassy.”
Where was I? Oh yes, the origins of Limerick. Others speculate it comes from the ditty “Wont You Come Up to Limerick” sung at stag parties when a drunken fellow, let’s call him Bob, encouraged his mates to come on up and do a kind of cross between rap and karaoke.
Still others speculate that a lady from Wheeling had a remarkable feeling that Bob and his buddies were spending far too much time at the pub and needed to buckle down, or they’d soon be spending a lot of alone time eyeing ye herd of sheep, if you get my meaning.
To sum up, I am working on a few things. I apologize for leaving you hanging, and as of this writing I am definitely not processed cheese.
xo -Madame P.