Joining the Circus is Easy

I have never lacked for inspiration – only motivation. I am lazy as shit. Seriously, if it weren’t for the fact that I am more interested in repairing my Money Pit of a house than I am working for a living, this would just never get done.

George Carlin died this weekend. Shit. Fuck. There are several other words worth inserting here, but for the sake of my mother, I will refrain. (Dad, you can tell Mom to open her eyes and inhale now.)

My kids are a constant source of inspiration. My son, a beloved first born is the nosiest creature on the planet. He is in everybody’s business, even when he isn’t in the room – or the same floor. He always has an ear up like an antenna. I am constantly speaking in a tone that mainly dogs can hear between the whining and the sparring that he and his sister do. I swear that I can’t believe the sounds that come out of my mouth when I am deciding between screaming, beatings and running away!

Sidebar #1: It used to be funny to talk about beating your kids. See Bill Cosby do a hilarious riff about this. And, no, I don’t hit my kids. Though I can often see why someone might want to…

Sidebar #2: I fully appreciate why my mother often threatened to run away and join the circus. The circus is like a coma ward compared to my house.