Day 29 (or: Out of My Way! Woman With a Chip on Her Shoulder Coming Through!)

Just when it seems that you might conceivably “good” yourself to pieces, and you may actually have to resort to cookie baking again, you wake up in the morning and find your good thing is just a phone call away. And, better yet, you don’t even have to make the phone call. In other words, the “good” thing comes knocking at your door (or ringing, as it may be).

For the second time in a month, darling friend Holly provides me with the opportunity to “good” someone else. Desperately in need of medicine for the ear infection she’s developed, and too high and silly on vicodin to get herself to the pharmacy, guess who calls on who for a ride? That’s right. Good Thing accomplished by 10:30 a.m. Hah! And what’s better, she approves whole-heartedly of the return to authenticity. In fact, she pointed out a lovely little quote that goes something like this:

"You know those things about yourself that you're self conscious of? Those quirks that you're trying to hide? Those are not your weaknesses, those are your strengths." - Terry Border

What a gem.  I really should run these “good” things by Holly for approval before undertaking them (Somewhere, Holly is reading this and saying "duh!"). I think she knows better than I do when it comes to remaining real in the face of the overwhelming need to prove ones-self. Sometimes we need to rely on others for those vital reality checks. Thank the heavens I’ve got these wonderful ladies in my life (and at least one gentleman) who will tell me what’s up when I can’t figure it out for myself. It’s almost like I’ve got a Greek chorus following me around as my consciences. My life is interesting enough to qualify as a Greek tragedy, so why not have a chorus?

But you know what? Because I realize this Thing fell in my lap (and was sort of a cheat), and I should probably make a bit more of an effort, I went to the extra effort and for Day 29 of One Thousand Days I (gulp) baked cookies. For the second time in a month and a half! I’m becoming a regular Betty Crocker. Or a Happy Home-maker. Or a Happy Hooker. Oh, all right. I fess up. I baked the cookies for the Boy Scouts. Because - ok, I admit it! - yesterday in a fit of hysterical no-fun-ness I quit the Boy Scouts on behalf of my darling boy. And I wasn’t very nice about it. This can’t come as a shock, can it? You can picture the scene, right? Me and my forthrightness trying to wade through one of the most uptight bureaucracies alive in America today. Yeah. It wasn’t pretty. But hey! I made them cookies, which proves that I’m just as American as the next gal. It's just that I happen to like gay people. And I’m not a misogynist. Which makes me an American who (other than the cookie baking) is pretty much ineligible to be a Boy Scout mother. 
29 down, 971 to go.