We look at this card and think “cute!” but you know somewhere on the other side of the world someone sees the same card and is thinking “dinner!”. Just sayin’ the same image can invoke very different definitions of happiness.

I’m at the Worldwide Aquatic Center – which is more like tri-country wide – this sultry weekend evening. It’s Friday the 13th and I’m hoping Syd will be game for a drive down the haunted ol road to see if the ghosts are hanging by the train tracks. Funny how EVERY small town in America has their version of the haunted road with the scary ghosts. Whereas Europe doesn’t waste time with that because it’s been inhabited for so long by so many that they all just admit: there’s no place remaining where something awful ghost worthy hasn’t happened.

How you feeling? No. More. Chemo. Woo hoo! Hope you opened the REALLY expensive bottle of wine for that one! That one everyone’s got for the special occasion – where here it is! Congrats! We gonna do something epic like rent out Koval when you’re in the total all remission clear!

Now onto the OR boob removal phase; the new boob phase and then the girls trip phase. Think Churchill: If you’re going through hell, keep going.

In the interim, let me know what you need. I’m here. To. Help. Ship your kids here if you guys wanna do some adulting. Or we can keep sending the deep dish. I just don’t trust pizza in a mitten shaped state. It’s like when people say “No offense” and then verbal march forward saying something offensive.

The latest from Upscale Mayberry:

My mom is PISSED at me because I said Jesus got boners and gave Mary Magdalene the pickle tickle. Dude was IN HIS 30s when he died; which was about the life expectancy 2000 years ago – NOT saying anyone did him any favors by fast tracking that time table. But he was well into and past prepubescence. And this was WAY before antibiotics or the pill existed even theoretically; everything from the Da Vinci code to the world’s most respected theologian scholars doctoral thesis contemplate the likelihood that Jesus left heirs. He may have even married Mary M. Yet I’m demonized for saying he mighta got a nut or two off in his early days?

Her argument is “Jesus. Was. Sinless.” She agrees with me that premarital sex is NOT a sin (something she dabbled in on the mission for hubby number two and she has no problem with unmarried folks cobeditating at her house). And she loves all the Dan Brown style movie making tales of the ultimate royal offspring. Yet saying Jesus MAY have participated (let alone enjoyed) this non-sin defies the moral compass?

As I tell folks at work all the time: you can’t negotiate with crazy.

I’m not saying he spent his youth circle jerking his way around Jerusalem, but it seems a safe presumption that anything male at any point and time in history, regardless of genus, species or millenium, did their share and version of roughing up the suspect. Unless JC was impotent which would make him arguably less than definition perfect by procreation standards.

The irony is that I know many people who have actually been cockblocked by JC. They let their rules and their thoughts on what holy meant. Not sure God would have given us these bodies if he didn’t want us to enjoy them. Treat them right, feed them in all ways physiological.

Even though she is now out to prove me wrong by referencing well-intentioned but poorly written Upper Room type texts, I’m letting it drop since she is home hanging with Julian so he can have a sleepover with his friend and not relegated to another swim meet with me.

Plus, Julian walked in the door from school this afternoon to his Nana spewing “JESUS DID NOT HAVE BONERS!” which just cannot be the right homecoming for a nine year old boy. At least not here.

Plus it is homestretch to Christmas and I don’t want to still be debating t his issue while opening gifts (thank you we three king trendsetter OG gift givers royale). Wouldn’t want to desecrate the lord’s wiener in the lights of our pagan colored Christmas tree.

Down to the last race for Syd this evening. If she won’t do the haunted road (which she will probably be game for; especially since it’s super foggy spooky out); I hope she will be up for some sonic style tater tots.

Last week there was a mandatory parent swim team meeting. Another girl in Syd’s age group – of twelve to thirteen year olds – is getting a lot of attention as a really good swimmer. She also got a lot of attention when she propositioned the good looking young guy team coach to do 69. How do you know about THAT then? Naivety on my probably. But it’s not like it’s instinctual like kissing. And it’s a lot to think about. I never know what to focus on: me or him?

I don’t care how fast that girl is in or out of the pool so long as Syd keeps her distance.

Gonna make one last concession stand run. I never buy stuff like Snickers for home, but here “I’m supporting the team”. My swim mom modus operandi is the sit, eat candy, get some online retail therapy going, cheer for Syd’s race, then repeat.

Hang in there – xoxox love ya’, Stormy