Earth shattering. B

Yesterday was epic. My baby sis-in-law got married on the day Michael Jackson died.

I am so overwhelmed by all these earth-rocking events that I kind of need to sit down. No, that’s not good enough. I need a vacation. A weekend escape from the melee of personal and universal news that will forever change my life.

Congratulations, Hayley and Jake, may your forever be as good as mine (and that’s really saying something). But let’s face it, there are other things to talk about here. We’ve got a wedding and a funeral all tied up in one big monumental knot.

I mean, I never even saw him in concert. It would have been a Thriller, I don’t care if he’s Black or White (or both). I mean, I know some people thought he was Bad (and you should never listen to a word that Billie Jean says about anyone), but I can’t help it. I always liked him. Even when he got uncomfortable with The Man in the Mirror and had all that freaky Peter Pan/Elizabeth Taylor plastic surgery, I still liked him.

(BTW, I have a theory that he was not a pedophile, he just wanted to be Peter Pan in real life. Creepy? Yes. Sexually creepy? I don’t think so.)

There are only three people on the planet I want to see in concert and he was one of them. I’ve already seen Neil Diamond, and I’m just waiting for Garth to make his Big Comeback Concert Tour, but a little part of my rhythm died when I realized that I’ll never see Michael live on stage. The kids and I listen to his music regularly; talk about not being able to make your pelvis behave. His beats are worthy of my kitchen tape player.

So on this day of national mourning (and family celebration), I add my voice to the millions of fans out there. Michael, may you moon walk your way through those pearly gates and forever find your spot in that big Heavenly chorus in the sky.

Oh, and yay Hayley and Jake!