Tonight I went to a new memoir writer’s group, where a lovely women answered the door.
“Hi, I’m Christine, a new member of the group.”
“Hi Christine, I’m Anna, but I’m not in the group, I’m just the other half of the man who is.”
I smiled my best, I’m not an ass smile and said, “Well, I’m sure you are the other half, but not ‘just’ the other half.”
Then I went to get sushi after the group ended by myself.
“Just you?” the lady said when I walked in.
“No,” I answered firmly. “But it is me eating alone tonight.”
Then there are the messages on my cell phone. “Hey, CM, it’s just me. Call if you want. Catch up soon!”
I’m not just one. I’m not just Sarah’s (the fabulous daughter I’m not allowed to blog about. Did I mention she is a lawyer?) mother. Or, just visiting. Or, offering just a little something I made for dinner. Trust me, if I make anything for dinner, it’s a big deal. A big deal. So we are moving ‘just’ out of my life for 2014.
Let’s make it interesting. Moving forward, if anyone I know and love and reads this blog uses ‘just’ the way I just described it when you are in my presence, you owe me $50. Ok? Just a little bet to keep you on your toes.