So when I am not winning parenting awards (just call me Mama Banshee), I have been pushing my tush out the door, willing myself to sweat. I skipped the gym Monday and took a walk; it was windy and sunny and glorious.
(I love fall. I'll say it often. I'm sorry.)
I made my way down the familiar road and came across a strange stranger. It was 93 degrees and he chose a scarf and leather jacket, an interesting choice. I should have known, right then, that I should turn around and nurse my aching tummy on the couch. Practice moaning. But no. I pressed on and met my fate: no crazy person can resist me. Crazies love me.
Maybe it's because I will listen. Maybe I am approachable. Maybe, just maybe, I should practice making mean, aloof faces.
I can't repeat everything the physicist/politician said. He spoke of global warming and traveling to Mars in 3 minutes and Obama and minerals in Africa and the fourth dimension. Apparently we are all motherf****** if we don't vote right and get off the planet in the next 13 years; he warned me he could leave us all behind and I kinda prayed he would. Vanish. Now. And just how quickly could I run to my Blockbuster.
He finished his diatribe, gave me some rap salute and walked away.
So much for clearing my mind.
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