I'm trying to sit down and write something everyday, if for no other reason than to give Carol a break.  My problem? I have nothing to say.  I am in a constant state of befuddlement.  Even my sweet, all-knowing, adored therapist confused me yesterday.  How is that possible?  I, who am never at a loss for words or opinions, was confused and befuddled by my own therapists words of encouragement.  My daughters were stunned when I told them.  Beerhound dropped his jaw to the ground.  Even the animals backed up in horror.  We must be in a parallel universe.  It makes no sense to me.  I've been thinking, which is difficult when you are in a constant state of befuddlement.  Why? How? When? Where? What the front door? (love that commercial!!)  Here are the only excuses I could come up with and those only after drinking two very strong cups of coffee.

1. I'm turning 50 in TWO days.  This even, my therapist says, is a scientific and statistically proven existential moment in most women's lives.  It sure as shit is confusing me.

2. Scott Walker won the recall in Wisconsin.  I can only shake my head in disbelief.

3. Lady Antebellum charged $80.00 for grass seat tickets to their concert.  $80.00 to sit on the grass.  Really?

4. It's June in Virginia and the temperature is 77 degrees.  I know I shouldn't complain but honestly, this weather is really fucking with my hot flashes.

5. My family has reached our spending cap for our health insurance company (we're retired military.  We have, "gasp", socialized medicine.  We love it.).  This means we no longer have any out of pocket expenses until the new fiscal year.  Yes, you heard right.  We pay nada, no co-pays, nothing for the next four months and we all, yes, all take daily medications.  The problem?  Should I be happy or dumbfounded that we have incurred that much medical expense?

6. Our kitten Oliver, has turned into the demon from hell.  We had him neutered and the pain medicine actually made him high.  The entire family, including all the other animals, run from him now.  He even jumped in the bath with Emma and started swimming.  There goes the spray bottle.  Let me point out, he weighs only 2 pounds 8 ounces.  It's Duncan, risen from the dead.  I knew he would haunt me for the rest of my living days.  What did I ever do to deserve this?

All I know is Valium is looking really good right about now or a nap.