I am one to sit around and PONDER, because I am fond of the pondering. And the talking. I would be happy to talk while I ponder, or perhaps talk after I’ve pondered, or even talk BEFORE I ponder (just to warm up!), but if I could sign up for just pondering and talking? I’d so be there.
So on the one hand, today was awesome, both because of my natural propensity for the pondering and the fact that my phone rang off the hook all day long with people who knew I’d had a ponderous weekend and wanted to know what I’d concluded. This resulted in talking, which led to more pondering!
On the other hand, there were things to be done and children to be dealt with and a marked lack of sleep. Damn life getting in the way.
Have you ever wondered how much your kids would like to get up at 6:15 to come home and what a fabulous day they might have after a rude early-morning awakening? Wonder no more. They will be at turns snarly and frenetic, finally collapsing in front of the television and insisting—even as their eyes are crossing—that they are most certainly NOT TIRED.
As a bonus, the girl child may cry about every little thing, and the boy child may decide it is the height of hilarity to call you by your first name. This results in interactions such as:
Chickadee: But I don’t WANT THIS FOR LUNCH…
Me: You like that, silly.
Chickadee: No I DON’T…. [sobs piteously]
Monkey: MIIIIIIIIIIIR, may I have some milk, please?
Me: Excuse me?
Monkey: I said, MIIIIIR! MAY I! HAVE SOME! MILK! [laughs maniacally]
Chickadee: [cries louder]
Me: Okay, seriously? You are both grounded forever.
In sorting through my mail, this morning, I discovered that it’s already coming up on six months since boobpusapalooza, which means it’s time for a follow-up. My surgeon’s office was kind enough to go ahead and schedule both a mammogram and a consultation for me. Wasn’t that nice? They just set it all up and sent me the paperwork.
So, um, I’m supposed to have the mammogram on my birthday next month.
“Happy 35th birthday! To celebrate, let’s put your boobs into a vice!”
Awesome. I can hardly wait. In fact, for Christmas this year I’m thinking about hiring someone to shove bamboo under my fingernails.
And there was other stuff, I don’t know. I fit most of it in inbetween the talking and the pondering.
For those of you demanding more details about my weekend: Go to hell. HAHAHA! Just kidding. Let’s see. Pertinent facts:
- I did NOT kill that palmetto bug. I squealed for rescue, which came in the form of a bottle of 409 and a braver hand than mine to scoop the stunned creature into the toilet. (Directly thereafter, I said something about never eating turnips again, and later I said math was hard. Not sure why.)
- Who? Remember this? (We won’t continue calling him Person, I think. We’ll call him… Otto. Maybe someday I’ll tell you why.)
- What? Well… a lot of talking, and then a weekend. With a lot more talking.
- Why? I spent a lot of time (with the pondering, and the talking, again) puzzling over this, myself. In the end, Joshilyn was much more succinct than I’ve ever managed to be: “Because boys smell good.” Also because Otto smells particularly good, and he seems to have gotten a lot smarter in the last few years (oh am I going to get into trouble for saying that), and, um, he doesn’t seem to get tired of listening to me talk. And really, how many men like that do you suppose exist in this world? Precious few.
- Where? Those of you who guessed Athens, GA win a gold star.
- How? Well, there was this airplane…. (Look, you don’t have to be a genius to figure out that I’m here and he’s there and it’s not exactly a short walk between. Still working on figuring out the How.)
Hopefully that clears up any questions. Or, um, something. Hey, look over there! Something SHINY!
I really need to get to sleep. So that I can get up and think some more tomorrow.