I was ready, today, for life to Get Back To Normal.
So I guess it should come as a surprise to no one that–after tucking the kids into bed, prepping the backpacks and lunchbags for camp tomorrow–I headed out to the deck. To throw large hunks of flesh onto my grill.
Yup. It was all verrrrrry normal. Rib?
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The attacks on London yesterday–combined with several days in a row of grey, rainy days–have left me melancholy. I had a post for yesterday, yes. What do you say that can matter on a day when so many people are senselessly injured or killed? The only answer I could come up with was: Nothing.
I’m praying for healing, and peace. The end.
Today I’m no more profound, but I’m trying to shake my inclination to be caught up in my own fears and worries. So I’ll resume my “normal” routine as best I can. That includes a Friday trip in the way-back machine; but when I close my eyes today, all I can focus on is the rain. The world keeps turning and the rain keeps falling.
If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Join me in today’s stormy mood, if you like.
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I know each and every one of you will be pleased and relieved to know that AFTER I’d gone BACK outside to water my flowers, yesterday, it proceeded to rain all day, today. Of course.
Anyway.
Today’s tale is about the time I went to this house in the woods and the first porridge I tasted was too hot and the second was too cold and–
Wait. I don’t ever break into people’s houses in the woods. And I’ve never had porridge. But this is ALMOST as logical as that, I promise! And nobody’s chair gets broken. And best of all? It’s about my vagina! AGAIN!!
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(But sometimes he just has to settle for me.)
There lived in a small village a woman of moderate age, who spent her days toiling in the fields of the “rat race” to earn enough to put food in her children’s mouths and keep a roof over their heads. Mir was her name, and one day God looked upon her and chose her as an instrument with which to beautify the land. Verily, he spoke unto her.
God: Mir, spring has come. Soon, it will be summer.
Mir: Yes, my Lord. I have a calendar. And eyes.
God: And an attitude.
Mir: Sorry. Did you need something?
God: I say unto you: it is time to purchase your annuals. Till the land, and plant them firm, and try to remember to water them. Do this in the glory of my name.
Mir: Uhhhhh… okay.
God: …
Mir: I mean, sure. Excellent idea.
God: …
Mir: Oh, did you mean NOW? It’s nearly midnight.
God: I trust you will know when the time is right. Be ready to act when the time has come.
Mir: Cool. No problem.
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It’s been a true holiday weekend for me; I have been busily mooching my way across various friends, and haven’t fed myself since Friday. It’s amazing; I mean, my kids are out of town, it’s not like I lost a limb or anything. But it’s really very sweet that those friends who didn’t abandon me to go out of town on vacation or something (like SOME people who clearly DON’T LOVE ME AT ALL) want to love me and hug me and feed me until my pants go *POP*.
Oh yeah, sorry ’bout that by the way. Did it startle you, earlier this evening? That loud noise? It was my shorts… right around the 23rd strawberry, I believe. I’m sorry.
The weather has been kind enough to grace us with a flawless few days: Warm–but not too hot–sunny, not too humid. Just beautiful. I’ve spent hours upon hours outside this weekend and I think I’m even starting to tan a little, because it was only spontaneously commented to me, “Wow, you are REALLY white!” twice.
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I am totally capitalizing on all of this kid-free time. The house is spotless; I’ve finished up projects I’ve been putting off for years; and tonight I got gussied up and went out where children aren’t even allowed.
Oh, wait. That was just my imagination. Whoops!
In reality, I guess you could say I’m off to sort of a slow start. Or that I’m just a complete lazyass. It’s sort of a toss-up, really. It’s just been so long since I was able to sleep late and do almost nothing; I think I was overdue. Of course, once I got going, it was a highly productive day.
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… we all scream for ICE CREAM!
What can I say? Summer’s here. Tis the season. Tonight I found myself eating ice cream with friends, and reflecting on the stages of my life as displayed in my choice of frozen dairy confection.
I’m deep that way, you know.
Tonight’s flavor was Sandwich Cookie Snowstorm, I believe, which was not bad. It wasn’t quite as good as the flavor I REALLY wanted, which was Ice Cream Sandwich (someone used to make that as a flavor in a half-gallon, but I haven’t been able to find it in ages; I think it was Edy’s), but it did the job.
As always, join in and share your proclivities. I’m deep and voyeuristic, apparently.
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