Comments: In Which I Do Not NOT Tell You Crazy Farm Plan (part 1)

I lost it when I read you thought about selling your children 4,567 times. While I have yet to make chirrens of my own, I had to laugh because I've seen my friends give their children that look. Especially my friends whose husbands are deployed. WHOLE NEW RESPECT. You verbalized what they feel everyday for 15 months.

Posted by aka nik at December 3, 2007 10:32 AM

When my hubby travels, I keep weepy too.

I just get tired and overwhelmed.

Posted by Lisa Milton at December 3, 2007 11:18 AM

As usual, your words make all of us feel better... you give us permission to be human. Which is what God did by becoming Man. Which is what we're getting ready to celebrate at Christmas. So... deep breath... maybe we can prepare our hearts for His birth, even if we don't have the Christmas decorations up or cards sent or presents bought or .... well, fill in the blank for your own life! We really just need some fresh hay for the stable. And maybe egg nog.

Posted by Susan Cushman at December 3, 2007 12:04 PM

Pink socks.

Posted by rams at December 3, 2007 12:32 PM

I know your pain. and if yours is like mine, all will be better just as soon as he walks thru the door! Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.

Posted by Desi at December 3, 2007 3:16 PM

Planet Zeebofloop has creatures that come in the night and take things. I so KNOW that's where my press pass is ... cause I would never lose something so important as the credentials that validate my existence. No. Not I. Stupid Zeebofloopers.

Posted by timmi at December 3, 2007 3:53 PM

Delurking to say that I think this broke the record of the number of times you've made me laugh while reading a post.

With Scott gone, you may be crazy, but you haven't lost your funny!

Posted by Alison at December 3, 2007 4:21 PM

I'm reading Here If You Need Me (Kate Braestrup), a v. good memoir, and she talks about how her children all had their usual transitional objects - stuffed animals and such(which her late husband called their objets d'amour) and hers was her husband. Scott is your objet d'amour (as my husband is mine).

Posted by Carrie at December 3, 2007 4:36 PM

I don't know the song you are talking about but I have to say a pie with a heart in the middle of it does not sound delicious at all. It actually sounds like something that might be served at Thanksgiving at Uncle Serial Killers house. You didn't ruin pie for me but I may give pause before I dig into the next slice of cherry I'm offered.

Posted by Em at December 3, 2007 4:42 PM

Do you literally keep up with these counts on things? I love your writing and since I live in AL must say when a giant moth flew in last night as we were doing the holiday yard decorating; I thought of your expert on the roaches in gods in AL. times I have freaked out over a bug (rough estimate)-1 billion

Posted by marci at December 3, 2007 7:05 PM

Blah, blah, lost me at 'In Which I Do NOT Tell You Crazy Farm Plan.' Although you got me back with the teaser.

Posted by Amy-Go at December 3, 2007 8:53 PM


Oh, wait. I have crazy farm.

But still, I want to hear YOUR version, and I really must hear about your brother's eyebrows!

Posted by Sara at December 3, 2007 9:21 PM

Am dying to hear more of Crazy Pharm Plan, because my husband once tried to convince me that his secret dream was to move us to a double-wide on a big piece of land somewhere, despite the fact that neither one of us likes to be in the Nature, touch the Nature, or interact with the Nature in any way whatsoever except through a TV screen or possibly a double-thick pane of glass.

Posted by Badger at December 3, 2007 9:48 PM

Why is it that your times of mental illness are so amusing to us? I guess we are all just sick, sick people.

I've often said I'd rather live in a run-down trailer on a zillion acres of woods, than in the McMansions on postage-stamp lots they have in some places around here . . . but I AM nature girl. I can't wait to hear what your brother's reason is!

Posted by Brigitte at December 4, 2007 5:36 AM

Em, that's the song the Keri Russell character sings to her unborn baby in "Waitress." And I cried just reading that little snippet of the lyrics.

As for Crazy Farm Plan? Pffffft!

Posted by Aimee at December 4, 2007 10:35 AM