The Terrifying Threes

Tang and Cigarettes turned three years old this weekend. Happy birthday to us.

I can't help thinking about all that has happened and all that has changed since I first took to the laptop late one night, fueled on a dose of the daytime formula of premenstrual symptom relieving pills instead of the nighttime formula, and of course a glass of chardonnay, both of which had me fired up and ready to rant.

It had been Charlotte, as you may remember, who had suggested it. Sent me the link.  I'd been sending her email rants for days and she'd been replying each time inquiring why I was not blogging.

And so I did.

My first topic was drawn straight from the emails I'd sent to Charlotte. A story that would take months to play out. The story of J.'s niece's wedding and the shit storm of drama that it stirred up and heaped upon me and on J. and on my kids. 

And as I got more comfortable with my role as online diarist, my voice became my own and I became less and less afraid to put it all out there. The ludicrous. The insane. The painful. The perplexing. The confounding. The infuriating. The hilarious. The humiliating. All of it.

And of course, as J.'s painful exit began, and ran through its fits and starts, and our relationships with each other's families became more complex and more tricky to navigate, and I faced issues with Estelle and with my kids, my kids' school and my ex-husband, and eventually found my way into a lovely life with Scott, I chronicled it all, even when the blissful, peacefulness of happiness was a little less interesting than the high drama. 

There was always something.

Either something big like a full on war with Estelle for her completely uncalled-for and uncommonly mean comments about me to Charlotte at Christmas.  And the subsequent letter that began with the words "You were such a disappointment at Christmas..." and then the burning of the damn shelves Bill had made.

Or something small like Lars' fiance Liza blowing out the candles on her birthday cake and torching her brittle hair when it poofed a little too close to the scorching heat of 50 candles.

Or the almost criminally sad and hurtful break up with Scott following one of the most brutal storms our area has ever seen,  or maybe my cat eating a needle and thread and needing $2300 dollars of medical treatment and turning me into a nerveen in a matter of minutes.

But through it all, you have stayed. Lived my life with me. Commented to me privately.  Rooted for me openly. Supported me meaningfully.

And now my life is on the brink of newer and potentially more interesting and terrifying and heartbreaking and hilarious things, and I am glad you are along for the ride.

And so, while I say happy birthday to Tang and Cigarettes, I say "Thank you" to you.  For your readership and your support. For your friendship and your prayers. And for finding my life interesting enough to keep following.

I owe you all a beer. Or a chardonnay. Or a signed copy of whatever portion of this blog I eventually find the nerve to publish under an assumed name before I go into the Witness Protection Program. But for now, you have my eternal gratitude. Thank you for reading.