When I first discovered that I am an asshole.

First off--my friends who check me to see if I am still alive--I am.

Second--those of you who care about my position--prone and breathing or prostrate and not-- I thank you for checking in.

Here is what I have learned while I have been away.

I. Am. An. Asshole.

Okay, matter being what it is, I really WAS an asshole and am no longer an asshole because we are all in a constant state of flux. I am on a post-Assholian trajectory. Yet, I do think I need to own up to the historic data set that has called me out as an asshole.

When I was a stay at home mom, I picked our organically grown vegetables from a local sustainable farm. I knew the first name of the farmer. (Chris) (his dog's name was Frost).

Now that I work 60 hours a week I hope to never have the Costco Representative have to help me with my self-service check-out of Preservative Laden Lasagna.

Remember that I insisted that every product that came into our home was made in America?

Now I simply hope that most products don't have too much of an overbearing chemical Chinese carelessness smell about them. (And I am discovering misting sprays).

I used to volunteer in my children's classrooms. Now I just hope they remember my name and that I do, kinda, care if my kid crosses all the acceptable thresholds they expect of her. If they don't, maybe I can send in another pan of brownies?