OK, so I told you all I would be incommunicado this week on account of being at my inlaws' whom I adore and who are truly the salt of the earth but who, for reasons that can only be described as criminally insane, do not own any cell phones or computers, or, as if that weren't diabolical enough, have no internet access.
Yet somehow they make it work, balancing their checkbook with an abacus and doing all their text messaging with semaphore signals. I have to admit, being cut off from the 21st century is not without its entertainments, like watching my 80-year old mother-in-law shinny up the drainpipe with those flags clamped between her teeth. She's a keeper, that one.
This is an actual photograph of her "texting" my father-in-law,
who is across the street flirting with the checkers at Macey's.
This message says, "Don't forget to pick up some milk. Also, I'm stuck on the roof again."
So, while I wait for the last load of laundry to dry so we can finish packing and head to the great white (or maybe just gray) north for my son's wedding, I'm pre-scheduling this little Public Service Announcement.
Here's the thing: I've sorta been nominated for an award, and I think the voting starts today. I'm terribly flattered, particularly since I love the woman who nominated me. And although I had never visited the site where the nomination took place, I'm really rather impressed with what she's got going on over there.
It's just that I'm kind of ... er, unaccustomed to such things. I really don't know how to say, "Hey! Looky here!" without seeming ... well, you know. Yes, shocking as it may seem, if you hold my ego up to the light and squint at it just so, you can almost make out a patina of modesty.
So I thought I'd take a chapter out of my brilliant mother-in-law's book in hopes of taking the edge of the otherwise pointed vanity that one associates with self-promotion:
I would love to tell you how much I appreciate your support, but you know how it is:
I've just never been very good with flags.