Good Lord. I’ve had a lot on my mind, a lot going on, a lot of decisions. But recently I received an invitation to join a group on MySpace. A while back I joined MySpace because some former JS pals live there now. MySpace is not my cup of tea, but I enjoy visiting. It has a few bells and whistles that are alluring – like the site music one can choose. But every time I log on, I am assaulted with a barrage of pesky ads. I especially get annoyed with the blinking ads that hop around the screen – anyone prone to seizures is at risk.

Anyway, as many of you already know, I’m getting a divorce, packing up my house, and trying to maintain an ample supply of Kleenex. I’m on tilt.

So, the other day I received an invitation to join a group at MySpace. I directly quote, “You are invited to join the Colon Cleansing Treatment Group.”

My hollered response was, “Ya gotta be shittin’ me! Colon cleansing, my ass!” Heh.

Ya know, what the heck is wrong with people?

Let me clarify that I have no problems with the concept of colon cleansing, but Jesus, Joseph and Mary – don’t these people have anything better to chat about – like yeast infections, or the perils of catheters, or the heartache of premature ejaculation, or bellybutton lint, or group masturbation, or exotic dancers that squirt? (I’m begging someone to please illuminate me on that last one.) I’m sure you all have additional ideas for other groups more appropriate than Colon Cleansing Treatment. Please post them in your comments.

For a nanosecond I was tempted to join the group – it was, after all, attention grabbing, and maybe I’d laugh my ass off. But then I decided my life is bizarre enough at the moment. Heck, my life has become a flippin’ Jerry Springer Show.

Many, many thanks for the kind and thoughtful emails you’ve recently sent. You guys are my kind of group. I am blessed to know you.

I pull out 10/14 – driving cross-country by myself. I’m stopping in KC to visit my son and his adorable family, and hope to maybe see a dear friend I’ve known since my 72nd Street days. And then (hold on to your buttered scones), I’m stopping in St. Louis to hang out with our very own Netta! Woot! Woot! Then I will point my car toward the mountains of Tennessee and my new home.

Rarely do I ask for prayers. I’m asking. xoxo i