This weekend I am going to Seattle to hang out with my HUSBAND's family, who view me with the same affection and kinship as most of us do ticks and fleas.  Something sucking the wholesome goodness from their son's white flesh….Or a stain on the crisp family linen.  Eric's family are 600 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and I'm an untimely period.

The only thing we share laughter over is relief. As in when I'm not coming to visit with Eric.  Cause I'm TOO BUSY. 

Eric's mother thinks that I am Satan without the kitchen skills.  A less successful federally employed Beelzebub. Many things have contributed to this; from my love of all that is Unholy to my legendary appetite for more than one cocktail, often straight from the can…

My writing.
Eric's mother happened upon my old original blog. Something I wrote years ago to amuse myself while making gentle mocking fun of others. Namely the housewives who waxed romantic on human husbandry. 
I had a really good time writing the blog, but unwisely used our real names and thus Eric's mother stumbled upon some of my more depraved samples of I Am Eating My Husband's Soul.  I have posted a few of these original posts here:

To this day, Eric's mom cannot be convinced that her son isn't being molested regularly by my best friend's well-dressed monkey, while I demand more gum garnish for my alcoholic beverage.  Because that really is who I am to her.