I owe an apology to Sarah Levy. As it turns out, her book “Drinking Games” was excellent. The problem was me. I started reading it immediately upon finishing Laura Belgray’s “Tough Titties: On Living Your Best Life When You’re the F$!king Worst,” and my brain hadn’t quite settled from the wild ride that read was.
“Tough Tittles” is a scream. It’s fast and funny and the entire time the author just keeps saying she’s the worst. Why? Because she just wants a job where she can write what she wants to write all day long, as long as that day starts around 1 and ends at about 5.
I could totally relate. I've had conversations like that with my dear friend Jenn for years. “Can’t they just let me write what I want to write?” we’d both say. “Dave Barry gets to do it! Nora Ephron, too!”
I was still caught up in the cadence and self-recognition of Belgray’s book when I started Levy’s. The fact is “Drinking Games” is totally different and totally worth reading.
And now we come to the close of the New York Times Book Review portion of the program.
Did I tell you about my unintentional New Year’s resolution? I say unintentional because I don’t make resolutions any more. Or at least I thought I didn’t.
On New Year’s Day I woke up and thought, “For 2024 I’m going to get rich!” How had I never resolved to do so before?! Then I crawled from my not-so-comfy-but-better-than-sleeping-on-the-street pull out sofa bed to my desk and typed How Can I Get Rich? into my search bar.
And I was NOT hungover.
I was still not hungover when I began asking both boys, incessantly, how can we get rich? What should we do? What can we do? Think! Think!
Mr. Rugby had an idea.
“There are these classes you can take. Online, you know?” he said. “They teach you how to make money.”
“Doing what?” I asked.
“Running a business,” he replied.
“What kind of business?” I asked.
“I don’t know, mom,” he huffed. “Maybe they give you a few to pick from!”
Not helping me.
And still I keep wondering how how how I can get rich this year. Everything I’ve read so far has advised me to take MONEY and invest it to make more MONEY. But none of the articles have told me where to get the first pile of MONEY to invest with.
It’s like they’re trying to stymie me.
Be that as it may, partially dry, sometimes damp January is going well. According to my scale – which may or may not be accurate because it's my scale – I’ve lost six pounds. I don’t think it’s just because I’m not drinking a bottle of Pinot Noir every night (stop, I can hear you gasping). It’s also that I’m not consuming an entire bag of Lay’s potato chips with it.
I love those damn things. How dare they be so delicious.
The bright yellow package, calling to me in the supermarket aisle, then from my cabinet where I try, so hard, to bury it behind other snacks and pots and pans and ancient copies of Architectural Digest which I really should toss because I know they’re behind this whole “Let’s get rich!” thing because yes, I confess, I want a house like Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis! No blockade keeps those Lay’s from calling my name. Susan! Susan! You’re prettier plump! Eat us! Eat us! We live to make your thighs more thunderous!
Stick it, chips.
In other news, we go back to court in February. At this point the prosecutor has agreed to no jail time. Hallelujah!! Now we have to hope – and argue the case for - my son not having to sign the sex registry. To sentence him to doing so would be a huge injustice. A travesty. HE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING. But, he can’t direct them to the guys who did.
As Mr. Rugby says, “If you have a felony, you have to tell your boss. But if you have to sign the sex registry, you have to tell everyone.”
Except for death, because I mean, death sucks, I can think of no worse fate for my boy. So screw getting rich (there’s always next year!). My sole goal is keeping my son off that list.
That’s what I’m resolved to.
If you’d like to read parts 1-27 of Life On The Inside, you can do so here.
I appreciate you taking this journey with me and permitting me the latitude to go off on tangents (like Part 28! and 27!) that aren’t always strictly about the situation at hand. My son’s house arrest and my role as his “warden” is, of course, a major part of my life these days but, it isn’t and can’t be (for the sake of what little is left of my sanity!) the entire thing. Thanks for sticking around. xo
Sending you hugs, Susan. I can’t imagine what you are going through but know that I am thinking of you and your son.
This is awesome! And I love the damp January - lol - I'm totally stealing that (the phrase and the practice)