So one strange thing that happens to me all the time is: friends will come up to me at the kids’ bus stop/ work/ a party/ wherever and say, “I just read your latest blog. It was really really funny! So, uh,” (long pause here), “who writes it for you?”
Who writes it for me? What does that even mean? I write it!
Once I set them straight, they start backpedaling and end up saying something like, “Well, it’s just that, you know, your writing is very funny, and you’re………. not.”
It’s true though. I am probably the most unfunny person you could meet. That’s why writing is perfect for me because I can ruminate and edit and revise until I get it exactly the way I want. Can you imaging a real life situation like that? Where, similar to the Three Little Pigs, you try three different scenarios in a row and see which one gets the best results (hopefully without having your house destroyed and being eaten by a wolf)?
I think of witty things to say after the fact. Not 2 minutes later, nor 2 hours later. No. More like 2 days.
I ran into an acquaintance the other day and she asked if my younger son still went to St. Religion Preschool (he doesn’t). “No,” I responded, “he’s in public school now, and I actually don’t have to drive him anymore, so it saves me a lot of time.” Then she followed up with, “Don’t you miss the spiritual aspect, though?”
To which I had no answer.
Later, I realized I could have said, “It’s okay, Linda, my son witnesses my great appreciation for the Lord every day as the school bus pulls up in front of my house and I say, ‘Thank God the bus is here and I don’t have to drive, Praise the Lord, Thank you Jesus!”
Which would have been better than that blank look on my face, the same blank look my friends and neighbors are used to seeing and secretly wondering about, “Is MOV, you know, slightly mentally impaired? She just seems, uh, I don’t mean it in a bad way, but, uh…… slow. And her kids? Were they, possibly, adopted? because they are very very bright.”
Maybe it just skips a generation.
("Mother's Our Victim")