Realizing the intrinsic contradiction in doing so, I'm going to enter a public plea to let the Jennifer Wilbanks story drop.
The contradiction, of course, is that by that plea in my column I am actually contributing to the further proliferation of the story. Thus, I will keep it short.
I don't care about Wilbanks' past, about the fact that she once skipped out on another marriage or that she shoplifted a bunch of stuff back in 1996. However, it is somewhat amusing that Wilbanks' current lawyer, Lydia Sartain, was the prosecuting attorney in that 1996 case.
But please, just let it go!
Now, enough of that particular topic. As for the headline of this column, it is merely a hoax. Sue me!
Indeed, my dear old mom is the exact opposite of a runaway bride. She's actually still with my father after almost 40 years, and you would have to know my father to fully appreciate what a feat that is.
Just kidding, Pops.
The point to which I am gradually making my way is that on this particular Mother's Day I had three mothers to please. I like to think I did it well.
First, for my darling wife on her first mother's day, cards and gifts to start the day. To my own mother I had mailed a witty little card previously, albeit a little late, but of course I then called her as I've always done.
Even when I was living on the other side of the planet I called Mom on Mother's Day, so don't come whining to me with excuses if you forgot your duty this year.
Also, on this particular day, my mother-in-law was still in town, so I got to write mother on the front of the envelope for the card Michiko had bought. And I wrote it in Japanese, so there.
And then began my full day of checking off items on the "Honey Do" list.
Finish painting the dollhouse-shaped shelves for the baby's room, check.
Reattach the towel rack in the master bath that, having been loose since we bought the house, finally fell off last week, check.
But perhaps the most daunting chore on this occasion was the dinner, for I had decided to barbecue some grouper steaks.
Grilling fish is a tricky task. You have to have just the right amount of heat and you have to time it just right or you'll end up with either a singed package of angry bacteria or something fit for re-soling your shoes.
They came out perfect, as did the grilled vegetables and the pasta I made for sides.
Now, why did I work so hard to achieve this perfection? Self preservation, my friends, which is the same reason so many of my fellow husbands and fathers were doing the same sort of things on Sunday.
Plus Father's Day is next month.
Ed Brock covers public safety and municipal governments for the Daily. He can be reached at (770) 478-5753 ext. 254 or at firstname.lastname@example.org .