Evidently I need a great deal of alone time in order to write anything at all. This thought occurred to me last night when, once again, I sat down to write just as someone came upstairs to watch TV. Our family computer is in the center of family life, as per conventional wisdom. This is irritating in the extreme.
In order to write, I need Norah Jones, who is my muse. This is kind of creepy, I know. I love her music, and I never grow tired of her. Which, actually, hints at another one of my idiosyncrasies. There is almost no creativity or spontaneity in my appreciation of pop culture. Do you know that I would rather see a movie I already have seen a hundred times, than to watch something new? I read the same books until they've worn to tatters, ad nauseam. It's just how I am.
There has been almost no alone time in my life lately. Partly this is because I have children still living at home. Children always sense when a parent is about to have a quiet moment, and this is when they swoop in with an overwhelming need for deep and time consuming intimate conversation.
Mostly, I can blame Tim for my constant companionship. Bless him.
Many wives have husbands who run off to lucrative employment for many hours of the week, which contributes to housework productivity, ladies luncheons, and contemplative reflection. This is not my situation. You'll recall that Tim took a sabbatical from working for a number of years, including the first two years of our marriage. This was a glorious age, not unlike an extended honeymoon, only with teenagers. Then he went back to the workforce, a radical alteration in our marital bliss, which I addressed with some trepidation Here. As I so sagely predicted at that time, I grew wider as he energetically grew more streamlined. This continued until the end of November, when he decided to pursue another brief period of sabbatical while perusing the job market....which he is still doing. He's been home full-time ever since. We have lots of fun together. It's a good thing, too. We have lots and lots of Togetherness.
Can I just tell you that none of my girlfriends are able to grasp quite what I am dealing with, here? It's hard to be me. This man of mine does Everything. He cooks, every meal. He shops. He cleans. He answers in the affirmative to any question the children put to him. He makes the bed, does laundry, he does yard work. He does everything better than me. The kids like him way more than me.
I pretty much have no role in life anymore.
I'm an accessory.
I joke, but it's actually really been kind of a crisis of purpose in me. No one even musters up sympathy for me when I complain. So, I can't be a decent housewife, I can't effectively complain, and I'm having real trouble blogging.
It's tough to be me.
During our first couple years of marriage, I really liked having Tim home all the time. "Being pampered" is what I called it. I wrote a little nugget on the topic Here.
In trying to account for the radical difference, the one thing that stands out is that I have claimed this household as my own fiefdom in the years since he first went back to work. Now he has stripped me of my own domain. That's it, I think. Gosh, you wouldn't think I'd have such the devil of a time adapting.
See how I am? Such an ungrateful brat.
I do feel better for writing about it. Thanks for listening.
You won't tell, will you?
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Saturday, February 13, 2016
Friday, July 26, 2013
In which Tim speaks, with a fork in hand
Dinner table conversation is often a struggle at our house. Our population, once robust, is sorely diminished this summer. We are down by 3. My sweet sister, Bentley, had chosen to live with us for several months whilst in transition. Her transition being complete, she is no longer a regular at dinner. Michael, our eldest, has emancipated and has a new home in Phoenix. Don is off and away for the time being, and that is a story for another day.
So we occupy the four sides of a nearly-square kitchen table.
Tim has a tendency to approach his plate with single-minded determination, which is to say that he spares no attention for his surroundings when food is before him. Both Faline and Aaron tend to approach the table with some efficiency; they are among those folks who eat to live, rather than living to eat. The dinner table is a necessary speed bump in their evening.
So, when spontaneous conversation occurs and draws all participants, I gently fan the flame.
We'd been talking about writing, the other night. Writing, because Faline likes to put pen to paper. She is a great writer of stories, and she often regales us with her imaginative tales. On this particular evening, my love for writing became a point of mention. The turn of the conversation unexpectedly touched on my old blogging habit, and my husband encouraged me to begin writing again.
Blogging.
Tim encouraged me to blog.
I can scarcely communicate the wonder and surprise this filled me with. First, that he would deign to speak several related sentences while in the midst of a meal. Secondly, that he (and the children) remembered that I had blogged. And thirdly, that they would encourage me to renew the habit. I am stunned again as I recall it.
There is no limit to the fodder for content. You would stand agog to consider the more trying events of the past couple of years. These are stories I'll deal out with caution. Perhaps we'll just begin with what we have, and we'll see where we go from here.
Gosh, I like writing. Why should the simple act of embodying concepts within words be so satisfying?
So we occupy the four sides of a nearly-square kitchen table.
Tim has a tendency to approach his plate with single-minded determination, which is to say that he spares no attention for his surroundings when food is before him. Both Faline and Aaron tend to approach the table with some efficiency; they are among those folks who eat to live, rather than living to eat. The dinner table is a necessary speed bump in their evening.
So, when spontaneous conversation occurs and draws all participants, I gently fan the flame.
We'd been talking about writing, the other night. Writing, because Faline likes to put pen to paper. She is a great writer of stories, and she often regales us with her imaginative tales. On this particular evening, my love for writing became a point of mention. The turn of the conversation unexpectedly touched on my old blogging habit, and my husband encouraged me to begin writing again.
Blogging.
Tim encouraged me to blog.
I can scarcely communicate the wonder and surprise this filled me with. First, that he would deign to speak several related sentences while in the midst of a meal. Secondly, that he (and the children) remembered that I had blogged. And thirdly, that they would encourage me to renew the habit. I am stunned again as I recall it.
There is no limit to the fodder for content. You would stand agog to consider the more trying events of the past couple of years. These are stories I'll deal out with caution. Perhaps we'll just begin with what we have, and we'll see where we go from here.
Gosh, I like writing. Why should the simple act of embodying concepts within words be so satisfying?
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Raise your glass to the New Year
This blog has become a distant memory, which seldom crosses my mind. Indeed, the thought occurred to me this morning to visit my blog, but the thought did not occur of it's own accord. Mother was scolding me for not blogging anymore. She told me that Yvonne dislikes it when I neglect my blog. We can't have that. I would do all in my power to keep Yvonne happy. She's a special lady, is Yvonne. So, I decided to visit my blog.
A very nice pastor surprised me this past week by telling me that he'd been reading my blog. I wasn't certain that this was a good thing, so I took a bit of time this morning to read. Kind of a survey over my most recent writings to see how radically I may have incriminated myself.
As I was reading a bit, I was confronted with a frequent reminder of my inability to spell. It's a glaring void in my intellect which has caused me no small embarrassment. Alas. You would think that one so afflicted would embrace the technological wonders of spell-check. Unfortunately, about the time I am wrapping up a composition, my mental powers usually precede me to the next activity on my agenda, and so I skip the editing.
My time is largely spent gazing in adoration at my husband. This keeps me quite busy. It does not, however, keep me slender. He is a marvelous cook, as you may recall, and so it is incumbent upon me to consume his caloric preparations with all the enthusiasm of a healthy wife. Who is now become a somewhat chubby wife.
It is fortunate that I can apply this inherent enthusiasm to any pursuit. And so I have embraced a weight loss regimen. I exercise, with my ipod. And I log every morsel to pass my lips, in a notebook I have set aside for this purpose. This is a fascinating study in my own psyche. I find that I struggle to be honest with myself. I would rather not write down that I have eaten chocolate, for instance. So I write one piece, instead of two. Or I'll mooch off of Tim's drink, so I don't have to write that I had one. It's about the most senseless lying problem you've ever heard of!
Weight loss is quite popular this time of year. My mother firmly believes that each family has an allotted number of pounds to share among them. This explains why she gains, while I lose. Or why she loses while I gain, which would likely be her preferred scenario. I found this concept to be vastly amusing, and also surprisingly plausible. The fact that I have been thus-far successful in my weight loss may perhaps indicate that a note of apology may be in order. "Dear Mother, I am so sorry to have been the cause of your recent weight gain. Please, just go on ahead and do some shopping, as your clothes are soon to be completely inadequate. You may expect another 14 lbs to arrive upon your...er...doorstep. Much love, Kelly."
Oh! How fortuitous! I remembered the spell-check!
A very nice pastor surprised me this past week by telling me that he'd been reading my blog. I wasn't certain that this was a good thing, so I took a bit of time this morning to read. Kind of a survey over my most recent writings to see how radically I may have incriminated myself.
As I was reading a bit, I was confronted with a frequent reminder of my inability to spell. It's a glaring void in my intellect which has caused me no small embarrassment. Alas. You would think that one so afflicted would embrace the technological wonders of spell-check. Unfortunately, about the time I am wrapping up a composition, my mental powers usually precede me to the next activity on my agenda, and so I skip the editing.
My time is largely spent gazing in adoration at my husband. This keeps me quite busy. It does not, however, keep me slender. He is a marvelous cook, as you may recall, and so it is incumbent upon me to consume his caloric preparations with all the enthusiasm of a healthy wife. Who is now become a somewhat chubby wife.
It is fortunate that I can apply this inherent enthusiasm to any pursuit. And so I have embraced a weight loss regimen. I exercise, with my ipod. And I log every morsel to pass my lips, in a notebook I have set aside for this purpose. This is a fascinating study in my own psyche. I find that I struggle to be honest with myself. I would rather not write down that I have eaten chocolate, for instance. So I write one piece, instead of two. Or I'll mooch off of Tim's drink, so I don't have to write that I had one. It's about the most senseless lying problem you've ever heard of!
Weight loss is quite popular this time of year. My mother firmly believes that each family has an allotted number of pounds to share among them. This explains why she gains, while I lose. Or why she loses while I gain, which would likely be her preferred scenario. I found this concept to be vastly amusing, and also surprisingly plausible. The fact that I have been thus-far successful in my weight loss may perhaps indicate that a note of apology may be in order. "Dear Mother, I am so sorry to have been the cause of your recent weight gain. Please, just go on ahead and do some shopping, as your clothes are soon to be completely inadequate. You may expect another 14 lbs to arrive upon your...er...doorstep. Much love, Kelly."
Oh! How fortuitous! I remembered the spell-check!
Saturday, October 09, 2010
In which I extol the wonders of coffee, again
I'm on my third cup of coffee, already, and I haven't even gotten out of bed yet. If I were Empress of the World, I would make every day Saturday so that All people could enjoy this luxury. Tim brought me my first cup at 9. He refilled my cup after he put the bacon on to sizzle. He brought me a third before he began his voluntary role as Saturday Short-order Cook.
I've smiled and sipped and thought and prayed and read. Now I'm blogging. Soon, I should get up. No doubt my breakfast will be ready by then, made to order. Hate me.
If I were Empress of the World, I'm pretty sure I would not be any more spoiled than I am right now. Although, my clothing allowance might be more. It might not.
Truly, I have nothing much to say, beyond how fantastic coffee and Tim are.
I've smiled and sipped and thought and prayed and read. Now I'm blogging. Soon, I should get up. No doubt my breakfast will be ready by then, made to order. Hate me.
If I were Empress of the World, I'm pretty sure I would not be any more spoiled than I am right now. Although, my clothing allowance might be more. It might not.
Truly, I have nothing much to say, beyond how fantastic coffee and Tim are.
Monday, September 06, 2010
How funny am I?
I was reading old posts, because I crack myself up. You have got to go read this right away. Then tell me I'm not just as funny as can be. I dare ya.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Lame Blogger
So, I got sucked-in to facebook.I didn't mean to. Only, everyone I know makes comments about facinating things that have occured on that thing, and I figured they were all losers for wasting time that way. And then, my mother got a facebook page. My Mother! I can not be less with-it than my Mother. She's 60, for Pete's Sake!So, I had to log in and see what all the fuss was about.
I began hearing from people I knew long ago, and now I'm hooked.
Only, this blog-that-I-never-write-on-anymore is linked to it. Since I never write anymore, I'm looking pretty lame. I just figured I'd acknowledge that.
Someday, perhaps, I'll be a riveting blogger again. But not today.
For the time being I'll not be posting....but, you probably already knew that. No doubt, once you stop checking to see if I've writen, the Muse will visit, and I'll be writing again.
Until then.....
I began hearing from people I knew long ago, and now I'm hooked.
Only, this blog-that-I-never-write-on-anymore is linked to it. Since I never write anymore, I'm looking pretty lame. I just figured I'd acknowledge that.
Someday, perhaps, I'll be a riveting blogger again. But not today.
For the time being I'll not be posting....but, you probably already knew that. No doubt, once you stop checking to see if I've writen, the Muse will visit, and I'll be writing again.
Until then.....
Friday, January 22, 2010
My music
It has recently come to my attention that fans the world over, meaning Kara, often check this blog to see what's what in the world of music. I thought I'd take a little time to update the music selection just a bit.
I will give it a little more attention in the next few days, but there are a few new ones to start you off.
In fact, you can scroll down to the very bottom of this page to see what I have on my list. Click on what you want to hear, and it will play for you. Then, you can scrub your bathroom with good music. Like Kara does.
I will give it a little more attention in the next few days, but there are a few new ones to start you off.
In fact, you can scroll down to the very bottom of this page to see what I have on my list. Click on what you want to hear, and it will play for you. Then, you can scrub your bathroom with good music. Like Kara does.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
A moment to myself
Between this moment and the celebration of Christ's birth, I plan to host 5 birthday parties, celebrate one graduation from college, and throw a rather large Christmas Eve Dinner. My head is spinning. No one should be allowed to be born in December. It's very inconvenient.
Mostly, I love people born in this month. I'll bet there is some astrological nonsense about that.
I haven't had a lot of time to just think for a while. It's thinking that is so good for blogging. That, and amusing associates. When one knows amusing people, one has so very much material. I haven't had a lot of time to just think...that was really my point. I need more thinking time.
So much has changed in my world,and it's more than circumstances. My whole reality has changed. Every single person I talk to comments that they never talk to me anymore. It's true. I am always with my husband, or in the car with various children. Life is so sweet right now, and I know that I am blessed beyond measure.
If I had time to think, I would revel in silence. I would read. I would listen to music. I would sit, and just be.
And then, I am sure, I would write.
I thought I'd say "hello."
Hello.
Mostly, I love people born in this month. I'll bet there is some astrological nonsense about that.
I haven't had a lot of time to just think for a while. It's thinking that is so good for blogging. That, and amusing associates. When one knows amusing people, one has so very much material. I haven't had a lot of time to just think...that was really my point. I need more thinking time.
So much has changed in my world,and it's more than circumstances. My whole reality has changed. Every single person I talk to comments that they never talk to me anymore. It's true. I am always with my husband, or in the car with various children. Life is so sweet right now, and I know that I am blessed beyond measure.
If I had time to think, I would revel in silence. I would read. I would listen to music. I would sit, and just be.
And then, I am sure, I would write.
I thought I'd say "hello."
Hello.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Identity crisis
I totally need to reinvent this blog. What in the world shall I write about? I'm not very funny these days. I'm no longer single. I'm all smarmy-in-love, and working hard at being a mom and wife. How boring is that?
The details of my day are not worth the writing.
Except
Something happened last night.
At 3 am the smoke detector went screaming. I bolted out of a deep sleep, paused to take inventory of my modesty status, and dove into the house at large. Aaron was sreaming for daddy, and barely audible over the alarm. I went to his room. Tim stumbled into conciousness and was searching for a fire before his mind even registered that he was awake.
There was no fire.
We ended up with a febrile child in our bed for the rest of the night. His fever hardly seemed adequate to have sounded an alarm. It was adequate to prevent further sleep, however.
Back when I was single, I'd have to encounter those smoke detectors from time to time. Mostly, they would chirp when the batteries would die. I would swat them with a broom, until they dropped to my feet in silence. My old house needs new smoke detectors, for this reason.
Tonight I am dizzy on my feet. Sleep is a welcome prospect. All four children seem like Energizer bunnies. Why don't they get tired?
I am going to bed.
What should I blog about next?
The details of my day are not worth the writing.
Except
Something happened last night.
At 3 am the smoke detector went screaming. I bolted out of a deep sleep, paused to take inventory of my modesty status, and dove into the house at large. Aaron was sreaming for daddy, and barely audible over the alarm. I went to his room. Tim stumbled into conciousness and was searching for a fire before his mind even registered that he was awake.
There was no fire.
We ended up with a febrile child in our bed for the rest of the night. His fever hardly seemed adequate to have sounded an alarm. It was adequate to prevent further sleep, however.
Back when I was single, I'd have to encounter those smoke detectors from time to time. Mostly, they would chirp when the batteries would die. I would swat them with a broom, until they dropped to my feet in silence. My old house needs new smoke detectors, for this reason.
Tonight I am dizzy on my feet. Sleep is a welcome prospect. All four children seem like Energizer bunnies. Why don't they get tired?
I am going to bed.
What should I blog about next?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Patience, Grasshopper
It's hard to imagine why I don't have time to write just now. Today, I've been on the phone discussing insurance, utilities, and can I just say how very much I HATE QUEST TELEPHONE...? May I say that online?
The boys are at football practice, Tim is assembling a stationary bike, and the younger two are at-one-with-the-screen. TV screen, that is.
I thought I'd say hi.
Marriage is great. I don't know what you all complain about all the time. He cooks, cleans, and adores me. What could be better?
Seriously, I have no creativity for a post. I thought I'd drop in and bore you before going to collect stinky kids from practice.
I'll write more one day real soon.
The boys are at football practice, Tim is assembling a stationary bike, and the younger two are at-one-with-the-screen. TV screen, that is.
I thought I'd say hi.
Marriage is great. I don't know what you all complain about all the time. He cooks, cleans, and adores me. What could be better?
Seriously, I have no creativity for a post. I thought I'd drop in and bore you before going to collect stinky kids from practice.
I'll write more one day real soon.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Three weeks, and counting
It's good that I have blogging to fill my time. Else, what would I do?
My rooms are getting cluttered, as rooms are prone to, in the immediate expectation of a move. I have eliminated bureaus, but not the contents of the drawers. I've pulled pictures off the walls, but they are needing to be moved to their new home. There are stacks of books and papers that I need to go through before packing. I was thinking that I'd much rather go shopping, or something.
Yesterday was a 15 hour day at Tim's, trying to care for the Limping One. The Un-compliant Limping One. The One who kept wanting to jump to his feet, and do laundry, or cook. Seriously, what man in his right mind would forgo an opportunity to lay around and be served by a willing woman all day? I offered to feed him grapes and fan him by the pool. His industrious nature is one of those man things I appreciate so much about him. I can't stand sedentary people. You know, people who blog all day. Tim gets stuff done.
While he was sitting still-ish, we settled on the food for the reception. Check that off the list. We're making fantastic progress on that list, in fact. Which is a good thing, considering that The Big Day is very nearly here.
So, today, I need to bustle about getting things done around here. Where do I begin?
My lawn mower is broken, and so I have half a mind to send the kids out there with scissors. That would keep them out of my hair while I clean and pack!
Off to do....something.
My rooms are getting cluttered, as rooms are prone to, in the immediate expectation of a move. I have eliminated bureaus, but not the contents of the drawers. I've pulled pictures off the walls, but they are needing to be moved to their new home. There are stacks of books and papers that I need to go through before packing. I was thinking that I'd much rather go shopping, or something.
Yesterday was a 15 hour day at Tim's, trying to care for the Limping One. The Un-compliant Limping One. The One who kept wanting to jump to his feet, and do laundry, or cook. Seriously, what man in his right mind would forgo an opportunity to lay around and be served by a willing woman all day? I offered to feed him grapes and fan him by the pool. His industrious nature is one of those man things I appreciate so much about him. I can't stand sedentary people. You know, people who blog all day. Tim gets stuff done.
While he was sitting still-ish, we settled on the food for the reception. Check that off the list. We're making fantastic progress on that list, in fact. Which is a good thing, considering that The Big Day is very nearly here.
So, today, I need to bustle about getting things done around here. Where do I begin?
My lawn mower is broken, and so I have half a mind to send the kids out there with scissors. That would keep them out of my hair while I clean and pack!
Off to do....something.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
...in a single bound
I'm so glad I'm a faithful blogger.
Last weekend was a blast, because Cathy and Asia were in town. I took no pictures at all, despite the fact that I bought new batteries for my camera. Sorry about that. Asia mostly fired deeply personal and incisive questions at my patient husband-to-be with the worthy goal of ascertaining his suitability to marry me. Consequently, they are now fast friends. They discussed much of this riveting information on the tennis court, where they were very happy to hit a ball about between topics. Unfortunately, Tim's knee was less than thrilled with the strenuous excersise, and is now swollen up as big as Texas. Cathy and I shopped, as any friends would.
My entire freaking existance has taken on a life of it's own, and I am sort of swept along in the tide. Among the significant, and life changing, transformations underway, is the new and alarming possibility of my child attending a real High School. Michael has decided that he wants to attend some Ivy League College, and Lacrosse is largely to blame. However, he is also appreciating the need for academic excellence, and is interested in a new School as a means of accomplishing this. This school, if he's accepted, would be really hard, academically agressive, and completely over his head. I think it's a fantastic idea. I am meeting with the officials to apply on Friday. Also, I am freaking out. Normal people cry when their baby leaves for kindergarden. Not me. My kid will leave at the age of 14 instead of 5.
In the bride department, I can not find a dress. It's very annoying. All dresses on the planet have an empire waist, which makes me look pregnant. All white dresses on the planet cost upwards of a million dollars.
I have to eliminate and pack, and I don't have any time to do so. I guess I am getting some things done, little by little. But, there's a heck of a lot that needs to be dealt with. My house is just so full of junk!
The reception planning is also on the table. Once we get bunches of RSVPs back, we'll have to start thinking about food and wine. And cake. And flowers. And renting tables. And the fact that all these people are going to be in my new house....which is all freaking me out.
Mostly freaking out is kind of the theme.
So, let's summerize. I am getting married, doubling the amount of children I have, moving, enrolling my eldest in school, signing the boys up for football, planning a reception/honeymoon/wedding, working, paying bills, being a single mom, and trying to find a pretty white dress. All of this while freaking out.
But enough about me. How have you been?
Last weekend was a blast, because Cathy and Asia were in town. I took no pictures at all, despite the fact that I bought new batteries for my camera. Sorry about that. Asia mostly fired deeply personal and incisive questions at my patient husband-to-be with the worthy goal of ascertaining his suitability to marry me. Consequently, they are now fast friends. They discussed much of this riveting information on the tennis court, where they were very happy to hit a ball about between topics. Unfortunately, Tim's knee was less than thrilled with the strenuous excersise, and is now swollen up as big as Texas. Cathy and I shopped, as any friends would.
My entire freaking existance has taken on a life of it's own, and I am sort of swept along in the tide. Among the significant, and life changing, transformations underway, is the new and alarming possibility of my child attending a real High School. Michael has decided that he wants to attend some Ivy League College, and Lacrosse is largely to blame. However, he is also appreciating the need for academic excellence, and is interested in a new School as a means of accomplishing this. This school, if he's accepted, would be really hard, academically agressive, and completely over his head. I think it's a fantastic idea. I am meeting with the officials to apply on Friday. Also, I am freaking out. Normal people cry when their baby leaves for kindergarden. Not me. My kid will leave at the age of 14 instead of 5.
In the bride department, I can not find a dress. It's very annoying. All dresses on the planet have an empire waist, which makes me look pregnant. All white dresses on the planet cost upwards of a million dollars.
I have to eliminate and pack, and I don't have any time to do so. I guess I am getting some things done, little by little. But, there's a heck of a lot that needs to be dealt with. My house is just so full of junk!
The reception planning is also on the table. Once we get bunches of RSVPs back, we'll have to start thinking about food and wine. And cake. And flowers. And renting tables. And the fact that all these people are going to be in my new house....which is all freaking me out.
Mostly freaking out is kind of the theme.
So, let's summerize. I am getting married, doubling the amount of children I have, moving, enrolling my eldest in school, signing the boys up for football, planning a reception/honeymoon/wedding, working, paying bills, being a single mom, and trying to find a pretty white dress. All of this while freaking out.
But enough about me. How have you been?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
It's finally Summer around here
I got a little sunburned where I sit, because yesterday was the first decently hot day of the year. On the decently hot days, I get a little less decent, and lay in the sun.
There is nothing like a trip to Eagle Island to boost a gal's self esteem. I've told you about Eagle Island in Summers past; it's a local puddle, with sand, and water, and Frisbee golf, and stuff. They even have a single water slide. As opposed to a married one. And very large mothers take their children there to swim. These very large mothers wear bikinis.
When you look at magazines all day, you tend to get the impression that all women are airbrushed and perfect. This is untrue. From what I could tell at Eagle Island, most women eat rather a great deal, and they have no attention to spare for flattering fashion. It's way nicer to hang out there than it is to stand next to my Mother. My mother is slender, fashionable, and stunningly beautiful. She doesn't even have the decency to look like she's in her 60th year, which I find highly irritating. She's far too beautiful. It's not nice.
I have no idea what brought up Mother just now. It was sort of a random hiccup in my thinking. Which is very surprising; no?
Back to the Eagle Island Fashion Parade....That was very amusing. I went with my sister, Dani and my nieces; Kara and her kids; Lisa with her college textbooks; and lots of strangers. Lots. I have never seen the place so crowded. It used to be that we would be the only ones there, but it seems that the public-at-large has discovered our swimming place. I wish they'd all go home and leave us in peace.
Tim and I are accelerating our plans. We picked a date and also began planning the reception. I seriously need to find a dress. I am not going to get married in white taffeta and a veil, not this time. This time I am going to get hitched at the courthouse. I would, however, like to wear a lovely white sundress, and a hat. Keep your eye out for the perfect outfit, k? I'd like to look slender, and 20, so it will take a special kind of dress.
August is going to be flipping insane. The kids start school, and football 2-a-day practices, and we're getting married and moving. How in the world am I going to pull it all together? No idea.
I was just realizing that I need to start planning my homeschool curriculum for next year, and I've no idea how I'm going to get to that. Just add it to the list.
Today is Michael's last doctor's appointment. Praise Be to the Lord Most High. He is so vastly improved! Last week, when we saw the doctor, that boy was in mortal terror of being readmitted. This week, he's just like a healthy person, albeit a skinny one.
O! And one more thing. My dear friend from so very many years is coming to visit me!!! Cathy is going to visit, with her family, for the Fourth of July. Go here to read about her. I have not seen her for 4 years, which is entirely unacceptable. We are going to have a lot to catch up on. I can hardly wait!!!!
On that happy note, I must away. I've got to get ready for the day.
There is nothing like a trip to Eagle Island to boost a gal's self esteem. I've told you about Eagle Island in Summers past; it's a local puddle, with sand, and water, and Frisbee golf, and stuff. They even have a single water slide. As opposed to a married one. And very large mothers take their children there to swim. These very large mothers wear bikinis.
When you look at magazines all day, you tend to get the impression that all women are airbrushed and perfect. This is untrue. From what I could tell at Eagle Island, most women eat rather a great deal, and they have no attention to spare for flattering fashion. It's way nicer to hang out there than it is to stand next to my Mother. My mother is slender, fashionable, and stunningly beautiful. She doesn't even have the decency to look like she's in her 60th year, which I find highly irritating. She's far too beautiful. It's not nice.
I have no idea what brought up Mother just now. It was sort of a random hiccup in my thinking. Which is very surprising; no?
Back to the Eagle Island Fashion Parade....That was very amusing. I went with my sister, Dani and my nieces; Kara and her kids; Lisa with her college textbooks; and lots of strangers. Lots. I have never seen the place so crowded. It used to be that we would be the only ones there, but it seems that the public-at-large has discovered our swimming place. I wish they'd all go home and leave us in peace.
Tim and I are accelerating our plans. We picked a date and also began planning the reception. I seriously need to find a dress. I am not going to get married in white taffeta and a veil, not this time. This time I am going to get hitched at the courthouse. I would, however, like to wear a lovely white sundress, and a hat. Keep your eye out for the perfect outfit, k? I'd like to look slender, and 20, so it will take a special kind of dress.
August is going to be flipping insane. The kids start school, and football 2-a-day practices, and we're getting married and moving. How in the world am I going to pull it all together? No idea.
I was just realizing that I need to start planning my homeschool curriculum for next year, and I've no idea how I'm going to get to that. Just add it to the list.
Today is Michael's last doctor's appointment. Praise Be to the Lord Most High. He is so vastly improved! Last week, when we saw the doctor, that boy was in mortal terror of being readmitted. This week, he's just like a healthy person, albeit a skinny one.
O! And one more thing. My dear friend from so very many years is coming to visit me!!! Cathy is going to visit, with her family, for the Fourth of July. Go here to read about her. I have not seen her for 4 years, which is entirely unacceptable. We are going to have a lot to catch up on. I can hardly wait!!!!
On that happy note, I must away. I've got to get ready for the day.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
In addition to my lunch with Tim
I'm planning a romantic weekend getaway with Kara. What could be better?
She is coming with me to the illustrious resort town of Park City, Utah, for the lacrosse tournament this month. We have been condo shopping together. I imagine quiet evenings by the pool, or the fire. I'm not picky. The boys are imagining running amok with all the other young lacrosse players who will dominate the otherwise pristine landscape. It's going to be rather different in actuality, than in my sanguine imaginings.
Alas.
I do think that some aspects of my whimsical imaginings are possible. Such as drinking wine, eating good food, and possibly the pool/fireplace. Those dreams can come true.
I spoke on the phone with my good friend, Heidi, today. She is anticipating my upcoming nuptials almost as much as I am. Her thoughts are running to lingerie parties, and after-honeymoon debriefings. Which is an hilarious play on words, come to think of it. The lingerie parties sound appropriate, if somewhat risque.
The debriefing, I expect, will be less of a public spectacle, and will certainly not take place anywhere near my dear girlfriends.
I'm just sayin.'
I was thinking of the amusing conglomeration of people who might merit an invitation to such a bawdy event. The party, not the debriefing. Such a guest list could range from my Mother and Yvonne (who would affect some posture of tolerant shock), to my Christian friends (who would gently amuse themselves with double entendre), to my less restricted friends (also mostly Christian, come to think of it) (who would cause Queen Latifa to blush a deep and becoming pink with their advice.)
Patsy came by for a visit this afternoon. Don't you wonder where I find the time for such a robust social life? It's no wonder I can't get to my yard work. Anyway, she had the brilliant idea of cleaning my house twice a month until I'm married, just so I'm free to focus on the other things I need to tend to. She is out of her ever-loving-mind; I declined. I did manage to talk her into cooking me dinner next Monday, which I figured would be equally delightful. She cleaned my kitchen while we talked. Love her.
Oh, look at the time. I need to go consult my social calendar to see how I might avoid responsibility today. Blogging is a good start, though.
She is coming with me to the illustrious resort town of Park City, Utah, for the lacrosse tournament this month. We have been condo shopping together. I imagine quiet evenings by the pool, or the fire. I'm not picky. The boys are imagining running amok with all the other young lacrosse players who will dominate the otherwise pristine landscape. It's going to be rather different in actuality, than in my sanguine imaginings.
Alas.
I do think that some aspects of my whimsical imaginings are possible. Such as drinking wine, eating good food, and possibly the pool/fireplace. Those dreams can come true.
I spoke on the phone with my good friend, Heidi, today. She is anticipating my upcoming nuptials almost as much as I am. Her thoughts are running to lingerie parties, and after-honeymoon debriefings. Which is an hilarious play on words, come to think of it. The lingerie parties sound appropriate, if somewhat risque.
The debriefing, I expect, will be less of a public spectacle, and will certainly not take place anywhere near my dear girlfriends.
I'm just sayin.'
I was thinking of the amusing conglomeration of people who might merit an invitation to such a bawdy event. The party, not the debriefing. Such a guest list could range from my Mother and Yvonne (who would affect some posture of tolerant shock), to my Christian friends (who would gently amuse themselves with double entendre), to my less restricted friends (also mostly Christian, come to think of it) (who would cause Queen Latifa to blush a deep and becoming pink with their advice.)
Patsy came by for a visit this afternoon. Don't you wonder where I find the time for such a robust social life? It's no wonder I can't get to my yard work. Anyway, she had the brilliant idea of cleaning my house twice a month until I'm married, just so I'm free to focus on the other things I need to tend to. She is out of her ever-loving-mind; I declined. I did manage to talk her into cooking me dinner next Monday, which I figured would be equally delightful. She cleaned my kitchen while we talked. Love her.
Oh, look at the time. I need to go consult my social calendar to see how I might avoid responsibility today. Blogging is a good start, though.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
My thoughts on religion
I was having an email conversation with a friend, which turned into a fictitious dialouge in my head. Do you ever do that? I figured, when I was nowhere near the computer, that it would make a good blog. Only I didn't have a pen. Let's see if I can remember what I was going to talk about.
We were discussing religion, actually. He's sort of interested in exploring various religions.
It seems to me that religion is a largely consumer driven thing. I shop for what I want.
If I am looking for a politically neutral community, with high moral values, great programs for the kids, and a Saturday evening service, I might shop around until I find something I like, and then I'll complain about the music. Or I can change my mind, and switch to something more appropriate for whatever stage of life I find myself in.
God is different, though.
If He is real(and I believe that He is), then I need to set out to know Him, rather than dictating how I would like Him to be.
Imagine that I march up to some handsome man, say, for instance, Tim. And I say, "Gee, big guy, I'd like to have you for my boyfriend." Well, that would be swell. Then, imagine that I define him as I want him to be. "I want you to be outgoing, socially conscious, a great skier with 6 kids, and a home in Aspen." Do you suppose he'd think I was crazy? I doubt he'd have much to do with me.
All of us, handsome men included, want to be known as we are.
Even God has to be sought out for Who He really is, otherwise I've just invented an imaginary friend.
Maybe an imaginary friend is just what I'm looking for.
But, If I want Truth, I've got to take it as I find it. That's true for anything, but especially with people.
That's really what I was thinking about today, as I drove about town in my car.
Oh, I stopped over at Tim's house. You know what? He has a big ol' dumpster, and a porta-potty in front. It looks like Arkansas!
Construction is happening! Who is excited?
Truly, I just can hardly believe that such a great man loves me so much, that he would go through all the inconvienience of remodeling, so he can keep me. Isn't that wonderful? It's like a great big monument to his love for me....with a porta-potty and a dumpster.
.....Ugh, there are hungry children in my house, and so now I have to end this thrilling tale to be responsible.
One more thing, though. Michael and Don are both in the top 20 best lacrosse players, in their age groups, in the valley. They are so cool.
ok, bye now.
We were discussing religion, actually. He's sort of interested in exploring various religions.
It seems to me that religion is a largely consumer driven thing. I shop for what I want.
If I am looking for a politically neutral community, with high moral values, great programs for the kids, and a Saturday evening service, I might shop around until I find something I like, and then I'll complain about the music. Or I can change my mind, and switch to something more appropriate for whatever stage of life I find myself in.
God is different, though.
If He is real(and I believe that He is), then I need to set out to know Him, rather than dictating how I would like Him to be.
Imagine that I march up to some handsome man, say, for instance, Tim. And I say, "Gee, big guy, I'd like to have you for my boyfriend." Well, that would be swell. Then, imagine that I define him as I want him to be. "I want you to be outgoing, socially conscious, a great skier with 6 kids, and a home in Aspen." Do you suppose he'd think I was crazy? I doubt he'd have much to do with me.
All of us, handsome men included, want to be known as we are.
Even God has to be sought out for Who He really is, otherwise I've just invented an imaginary friend.
Maybe an imaginary friend is just what I'm looking for.
But, If I want Truth, I've got to take it as I find it. That's true for anything, but especially with people.
That's really what I was thinking about today, as I drove about town in my car.
Oh, I stopped over at Tim's house. You know what? He has a big ol' dumpster, and a porta-potty in front. It looks like Arkansas!
Construction is happening! Who is excited?
Truly, I just can hardly believe that such a great man loves me so much, that he would go through all the inconvienience of remodeling, so he can keep me. Isn't that wonderful? It's like a great big monument to his love for me....with a porta-potty and a dumpster.
.....Ugh, there are hungry children in my house, and so now I have to end this thrilling tale to be responsible.
One more thing, though. Michael and Don are both in the top 20 best lacrosse players, in their age groups, in the valley. They are so cool.
ok, bye now.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Here She Comes, Again
There is noting quite like awaking at 5:30 am to put a spring in your step.
Coffee, though, is the Great Equalizer. It makes one feel rested until nearly noon, if administered in large quantities.
Today is looking a bit long-ish from here. The house is less than clean, and there is a list of duties that will pull me hither and thither until the sun goes down. Which? Sounds a little like a Country Western tune.
The whole daylight saving thing means that the sun is in evidence until 7:30 around here. This has the welcome effect of extending my quotient of daily alertness well into evening. Which is a boon. During the winter months, I am ready for bed by 5, and can barely keep awake for dinner. During the daylight months, I need far less sleep. Summer's a comin'. And the livin' is easy.
Which? Brings to mind Porgy and Bess.
Usually, I get really excited about the Summer at about this point in the year. Summer has often meant leisurely days at the local puddle with Kara. There's SPF 30, picnic lunches, and bugspray.
Tim's pool is also a delightful possibility. There is no need of bugspray, there. And he will refill our drinks while we bake in the sun. And perhaps he'll cook for us on the grille.
This year is unclear to me as yet. Like looking into one of those swirly-foggy crystal balls (which I do so much of). I wonder if I'm going to be working much? Or if we'll still be trying to get thru Math and History? Or if I'll have any time at all for lounging in the sun? Summer's only fun if it's a break from real life. If I have to continue with real life, while everyone else is having fun, I'm going to get grumpy.
Which doesn't bring to mind any songs at all.
Speaking of songs,
wouldn't it be amusing to compose an entire blog post with song titles? You know, in my spare time.
It's a Hard Knock life, for us.
But don't worry, be happy.
The sun will come out Tomorrow.
Oh dear. I'm annoying even myself.
Coffee, though, is the Great Equalizer. It makes one feel rested until nearly noon, if administered in large quantities.
Today is looking a bit long-ish from here. The house is less than clean, and there is a list of duties that will pull me hither and thither until the sun goes down. Which? Sounds a little like a Country Western tune.
The whole daylight saving thing means that the sun is in evidence until 7:30 around here. This has the welcome effect of extending my quotient of daily alertness well into evening. Which is a boon. During the winter months, I am ready for bed by 5, and can barely keep awake for dinner. During the daylight months, I need far less sleep. Summer's a comin'. And the livin' is easy.
Which? Brings to mind Porgy and Bess.
Usually, I get really excited about the Summer at about this point in the year. Summer has often meant leisurely days at the local puddle with Kara. There's SPF 30, picnic lunches, and bugspray.
Tim's pool is also a delightful possibility. There is no need of bugspray, there. And he will refill our drinks while we bake in the sun. And perhaps he'll cook for us on the grille.
This year is unclear to me as yet. Like looking into one of those swirly-foggy crystal balls (which I do so much of). I wonder if I'm going to be working much? Or if we'll still be trying to get thru Math and History? Or if I'll have any time at all for lounging in the sun? Summer's only fun if it's a break from real life. If I have to continue with real life, while everyone else is having fun, I'm going to get grumpy.
Which doesn't bring to mind any songs at all.
Speaking of songs,
wouldn't it be amusing to compose an entire blog post with song titles? You know, in my spare time.
It's a Hard Knock life, for us.
But don't worry, be happy.
The sun will come out Tomorrow.
Oh dear. I'm annoying even myself.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Velour, and more
I did something today that I thought I'd never do.
You know those jogging suits made of velour? The kind you would never jog in? I wore one in public with no shirt on underneath. Don't get excited, it's perfectly modest. I just have never worn it this way, because I am always nervous that the zipper will creep down unbeknownst to me, and reveal an eye-full to the roving masses. It occurred to me that two things have become true.
#1 I have no eye-full.
#2 The roving masses aren't looking at me.
It's possible that numbers one and two are related.
So, I threw the velour ensemble on my tired self, and ran to Albertson's to stimulate the economy.
My tax return has come to visit. It won't stay long, no doubt, but I appreciate it while it's here. One thing I do when I have money, is I fill my wine rack. It has three spots on it, so it's not like it takes a fortune.
I don't know why I bought wine today, as I am not going to drink any, out of respect for my liver. My liver is anticipating the need to process NyQuil this evening before bed. I don't wish to ask too much of this vital organ. Lest it become un-vital.
NyQuil was lovingly suggested to me by the man I'm in love with. I believe he will also be tipping back a blue shot o' the wonder drug tonight. I've infected him. I acquired an aggressive virus on Friday, and it tried very hard to make me quite ill. I fought back with large quantities of Airborne, and have emerged more or less victorious.
In truth, I felt like I was swallowing shards of glass on Friday. By Saturday, I felt like remaining upright was too great an effort. Today, I woke shaky and a tad bit dizzy, but vastly improved. The NyQuil is to attend what congestion there is, so that healthful sleep can do for me what the Airborne cannot.
Airborne is the best invention since antibiotics. Seriously.
The week was a long one. Have I told you about the uproar on the fringes of my world?
One Very Dear Friend was in town due to her brother's trial. The charge was horribly serious, and would have been a heartbreak for this dear family. He was found Not Guilty, but the worry made for lots of prayer and sleepless nights.
Another Friend's father Died behind the wheel of his truck, completely unexpectedly. Her family has all come to town to honor his life.
Then, of course there was the evening in the emergency room with Patsy's girls.
Top that off with a bit of sickness.
I'm glad this week's behind me.
The upside to the week I've had is that I've had numerous excuses to speak with several Very Dear Friends.
Oh, and since we're not remotely on the subject:
I am reading this book.
It's a book that I can not, in good conscience, recommend to you. It's fantastic, though mildly scandalous. The first couple books in the series are more than mildly scandalous, they are shockingly so. But, I read them years ago, and so can't be held responsible. The statute of limitations is out on that.
Suffice it to say, that I have buried myself in books #5 and now #6 of the series for weeks now. It's sweet escapism. You want to know what they are, don't you? I'm not telling.
You'll judge me.
Now, that's a lot to say.
If I'd blog on a more regualr schedule, perhaps I wouldn't bore you with endless drivel once or twice a week. I could bore you with mindless drivel daily. Just the thought is exciting, eh?
You know those jogging suits made of velour? The kind you would never jog in? I wore one in public with no shirt on underneath. Don't get excited, it's perfectly modest. I just have never worn it this way, because I am always nervous that the zipper will creep down unbeknownst to me, and reveal an eye-full to the roving masses. It occurred to me that two things have become true.
#1 I have no eye-full.
#2 The roving masses aren't looking at me.
It's possible that numbers one and two are related.
So, I threw the velour ensemble on my tired self, and ran to Albertson's to stimulate the economy.
My tax return has come to visit. It won't stay long, no doubt, but I appreciate it while it's here. One thing I do when I have money, is I fill my wine rack. It has three spots on it, so it's not like it takes a fortune.
I don't know why I bought wine today, as I am not going to drink any, out of respect for my liver. My liver is anticipating the need to process NyQuil this evening before bed. I don't wish to ask too much of this vital organ. Lest it become un-vital.
NyQuil was lovingly suggested to me by the man I'm in love with. I believe he will also be tipping back a blue shot o' the wonder drug tonight. I've infected him. I acquired an aggressive virus on Friday, and it tried very hard to make me quite ill. I fought back with large quantities of Airborne, and have emerged more or less victorious.
In truth, I felt like I was swallowing shards of glass on Friday. By Saturday, I felt like remaining upright was too great an effort. Today, I woke shaky and a tad bit dizzy, but vastly improved. The NyQuil is to attend what congestion there is, so that healthful sleep can do for me what the Airborne cannot.
Airborne is the best invention since antibiotics. Seriously.
The week was a long one. Have I told you about the uproar on the fringes of my world?
One Very Dear Friend was in town due to her brother's trial. The charge was horribly serious, and would have been a heartbreak for this dear family. He was found Not Guilty, but the worry made for lots of prayer and sleepless nights.
Another Friend's father Died behind the wheel of his truck, completely unexpectedly. Her family has all come to town to honor his life.
Then, of course there was the evening in the emergency room with Patsy's girls.
Top that off with a bit of sickness.
I'm glad this week's behind me.
The upside to the week I've had is that I've had numerous excuses to speak with several Very Dear Friends.
Oh, and since we're not remotely on the subject:
I am reading this book.
It's a book that I can not, in good conscience, recommend to you. It's fantastic, though mildly scandalous. The first couple books in the series are more than mildly scandalous, they are shockingly so. But, I read them years ago, and so can't be held responsible. The statute of limitations is out on that.
Suffice it to say, that I have buried myself in books #5 and now #6 of the series for weeks now. It's sweet escapism. You want to know what they are, don't you? I'm not telling.
You'll judge me.
Now, that's a lot to say.
If I'd blog on a more regualr schedule, perhaps I wouldn't bore you with endless drivel once or twice a week. I could bore you with mindless drivel daily. Just the thought is exciting, eh?
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Val Said
I may not always log into facebook, but I see every single comment that people leave for me there. Yes, I do. They are delivered to my inbox with that immortalized drone, "You've got mail!"
Val, whom I used to clown with ever so long ago, (have I told you that story?), says to write more and add pictures. Then perhaps I can be just like Pioneer Woman.
So, I looked at the photos available in my computer. And there are not really any that are riveting.
That first one up there is an old one, so you can see how I've aged. Nice lipstick, eh?
See the boys? They were children there. Small enough to spank. Not that I would ever use such a primitive.....oh, wait.....you already know me better than that. I should probably beat them now, come to think of it. One is currently drowning out my lovely music by blaring his amplifier and bass guitar in the other room. The other is pouting over the fact that I won't allow him any more time on his PSP.
Here I am looking flamboyant and very Christian, indeed. Like a tele-evangelist's wife, what with the animal print and the wig and the wine.
Who's wine could this be? How did it ever get into my hand?
And, here's a look you don't see every day. Have you ever seen me silent enough to pass as a mime? I believe I mentioned a penchant for costumes.
Speaking of costumes...did I ever tell you about the day that Meichelle invited me over for tea? I wore a hat and gloves, and also a cape.
On that whimsical, albeit narcissistic note, I shall bid you a very good night.
Book this face
Why do I get sucked in to computer things?
I've had this facebook account for a long time. I got it because my son wanted one, and I thought I should keep an eye on him. Do I? No.
I have a number of friends who use facebook to communicate on a regular basis. But, it embodies all I dislike about shallow,small-talk. I hate shallow,small-talk.
Yet, I keep going back.
I finally put my entire real name on my profile, and now the teeming masses from my past are calling me their "friends."
They are not my friends.
I knew them in high school, or met them years ago.
I only have a few real friends. Ok, maybe a bit more than a few. I'm blessed. But I do not call every Tom, Dick, and Harry my "friend." Do people say "Tom, Dick, and Harry" anymore? Perhaps they do not.
I have a MySpace thingy, too. I can't ever figure out what to do with it, though. It's for computer savy people, and there are always ads on it that I find offensive. I don;t really use that account.
Mostly, the blog-realm works for me. I can talk if I want to, without telling you what I am doing "right now". Because, right now? I am typing. Could you not figure that out?
Well, it's Sunday morning, and I should see about pulling myself together. I have company coming this afternoon. Real friends are coming over, since Heidi is coming into town. Maybe I'll take a picture or two. Don't get your hopes up, though, I probably won't.
I've had this facebook account for a long time. I got it because my son wanted one, and I thought I should keep an eye on him. Do I? No.
I have a number of friends who use facebook to communicate on a regular basis. But, it embodies all I dislike about shallow,small-talk. I hate shallow,small-talk.
Yet, I keep going back.
I finally put my entire real name on my profile, and now the teeming masses from my past are calling me their "friends."
They are not my friends.
I knew them in high school, or met them years ago.
I only have a few real friends. Ok, maybe a bit more than a few. I'm blessed. But I do not call every Tom, Dick, and Harry my "friend." Do people say "Tom, Dick, and Harry" anymore? Perhaps they do not.
I have a MySpace thingy, too. I can't ever figure out what to do with it, though. It's for computer savy people, and there are always ads on it that I find offensive. I don;t really use that account.
Mostly, the blog-realm works for me. I can talk if I want to, without telling you what I am doing "right now". Because, right now? I am typing. Could you not figure that out?
Well, it's Sunday morning, and I should see about pulling myself together. I have company coming this afternoon. Real friends are coming over, since Heidi is coming into town. Maybe I'll take a picture or two. Don't get your hopes up, though, I probably won't.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Devil's Post
The post from yesterday, or whenever I typed that last one, it was # 666. It was the six hundred and sixty-sixth post. The devil's post. We should read it backwards and see if it contains a hidden meaning.
Tim is taking the boys to a wild game dinner at church tonight. Bless his heart! He's not really your Idaho Wild Game sorta guy. He's more your country club, tennis- and-golf sorta guy. The boys are very excited. Tim was thinking about stopping at Taco Bell after, in case the food is not edible. I want to see him in camo. Maybe Patti will Photoshop a gun and some hunter's orange onto his picture for our amusement. I've never even seen him with a hair out of place. Do you think Patti could photoshop that?
My D' is very like Tim, in truth. He likes his hair just so, and his clothes matching. He likes predictability, and expensive shoes.
M' on the other hand.....wears clothes he's pulled from the dank recesses under his furniture. He's happiest in the backcountry with no running water. This is Camo-boy.
How did two such different children spring from my loins? Gosh, "Spring from my loins" is rather a graphic phrase. I think in pictures, and that phrasing presents rather a disturbing image. Let's move on; shall we?
It's Friday. A fact for which I am deeply grateful. I do have to work today. Why are my bills so far behind when I am working so hard? It's quite defeating. If only Obama would stimulate my personal economy! If he sends me money, I am going to use it to pay my utilities.
Hi Ho Hi Ho, it's off to work we go.
Carpe Diem, friends.
Tim is taking the boys to a wild game dinner at church tonight. Bless his heart! He's not really your Idaho Wild Game sorta guy. He's more your country club, tennis- and-golf sorta guy. The boys are very excited. Tim was thinking about stopping at Taco Bell after, in case the food is not edible. I want to see him in camo. Maybe Patti will Photoshop a gun and some hunter's orange onto his picture for our amusement. I've never even seen him with a hair out of place. Do you think Patti could photoshop that?
My D' is very like Tim, in truth. He likes his hair just so, and his clothes matching. He likes predictability, and expensive shoes.
M' on the other hand.....wears clothes he's pulled from the dank recesses under his furniture. He's happiest in the backcountry with no running water. This is Camo-boy.
How did two such different children spring from my loins? Gosh, "Spring from my loins" is rather a graphic phrase. I think in pictures, and that phrasing presents rather a disturbing image. Let's move on; shall we?
It's Friday. A fact for which I am deeply grateful. I do have to work today. Why are my bills so far behind when I am working so hard? It's quite defeating. If only Obama would stimulate my personal economy! If he sends me money, I am going to use it to pay my utilities.
Hi Ho Hi Ho, it's off to work we go.
Carpe Diem, friends.
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