December 4, 2004 | What do I do all day?

I stayed up too late last night and got up too early this morning. And I almost never get up early when my kids aren’t here. It takes something pretty important to get me out of bed early if I don’t have to go yell “Get dressed! Eat your breakfast!” a few dozen times.

Last week at church, our pastor gave a great sermon entitled “All I Want For Christmas Is… More Stuff.” All of his sermons are good, but this one was one of his finer ones, and timely, of course. Rampant consumerism. Subversion of the true message of Christmas. Let’s get back in touch with what’s important. Etc. Really, just a wonderful piece. As dedicated Christians, we the body of our church all murmured to one another about what a fine sermon it was, and then turned our attention towards prepping for today’s Big Christmas Fair Where We Sell Lots Of Useless Stuff And Take All Your Money!
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December 3, 2004 | Woohoo!

Gimme a stick of that gum, wouldja? Thanks. I am totally skipping this class, it is SO. BORING. Want me to braid your hair? I can. Meet me behind the gym. You can look at my trig notes while we do it, or we could just talk about boys instead.

Boys. *sigh* Like, oh my god. You will never believe it.

So, um, he called. The guy? Who asked for my number? Actually called. We talked. For a long time. I still like him. I like him even more. He seems to still like me. I feel about thirteen. I mean, HELLO, I am an old lady with children who spent almost her entire adult life married, I have NO IDEA how one goes about dating. Except that, apparently it goes like this, sort of. And it feels… not bad. Maybe better than that. Egads.

I like it.

What do I do all day?

Oh, my. Here I was busy just having a little chuckle over the day’s events, and y’all have me paired off and married to the guy, already. Slow down, people. Goodness. There’s still plenty of time for him to turn out to be a psycho, or just never call at all. Wait and see, willya?

In other news, day-to-day life goes on. I went grocery shopping with a friend, yesterday afternoon, which resulted in deep discussion of multiple important issues. At the outset of our trip I mentioned that I hoped Coke was on sale because I was experiencing a critical shortage of Diet Coke with Lime, which caused my friend to snort and declare that I am not allowed to use the term “critical shortage” to describe my diet soda addiction. Of course, as her solution to this issue was that I should instead addict myself to coffee only (as if the Diet Coke with Lime wasn’t just a handy filler between cups of coffee, already), this was an intellectual debate that continued clear to aisle twelve or so.

Later she insisted that her bagger was at least 100 years old. I countered that he couldn’t have possibly been a day over 85. And still later that evening when she called to tell me that he hadn’t packed her pork chops (try saying that ten times fast!) I was able to assure her that indeed he had, because I had been transfixed, watching him bag in old-person slow-motion, and she needed to check her car again. (The pork chops were later found under the seat. She cooked them for dinner.)
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December 2, 2004 | Haven't been hit by lightning yet!

Huh. Nearly noon, and I am still unemployed. I know, I know… I’m shocked, too. Well. Maybe I’ll give them a little more time.

In other news–beware the Apocalypse! Because it’s upon us, I tell you! How many signs of the Apocalypse are there supposed to be, anyway? I forget. But! I do know that ONE OF THOSE SIGNS has just come to pass, so, being the friendly people-person that I am, I just wanted to pass the information along.

Oh. You want to know which sign? Okay.
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December 1, 2004 | Job? Huh?

A company posts a job opening that says, “We challenge you to separate yourself from the pack – make it impossible for us not to consider you for this position!” They’re probably figuring people will extol their industry virtues and share their humanitarian interests.

Do you suppose they knew that I would write in to say that most people figure my brain fell out while I stayed home with my kids, but it’s not true? That only half my brain has atrophied, but the other half is stronger than ever? That my salary requirements are “enough to attain the lifestyle to which I’d like to become accustomed?” To point out all of the typos I found on their website? I felt a little bit badly about that, so then I offered to bake them cookies.

Yes, really. How is it possible that I am allowed to go about my life without constant supervision?

Cool Whip, anyone?

My name is Grumplestiltskin

Some days are flawless, seamless; every need is met, unexpected joys abound, and the minutes and hours flow effortlessly as you luxuriate in the blessing that is life.

Some days are dark and rainy and cranky; everyone grumps at everyone else, an unexpected bill for far too much money arrives on the tail end of the holiday spending and the realization that tuition is due today, and you find yourself in the kitchen screaming at inanimate objects (”Cool Whip! Why are you frozen?! I need sugar DAMMIT!”).

Let’s pretend I’m having the first sort of day. Thanks.