Every now and then I write a difficult post about Deep Thoughts that really resonates with folks, and that's terribly gratifying, and I feel all warm and fuzzy and embrace the whole community aspect of blogging and feel like we're all in this life thing together. I open up, and you welcome me with open arms, and I realize that sharing thoughts and feelings is GOOD and TRUE and NICE. And then other times, I write about a room full of women and sex toys, and suddenly that's the most-visited post I've ever written and I realize that actually no one really cares about my deep thoughts nearly as...
*dusting off hands, clearing throat* Hot cross buns! [rising] Hot cross buns! [fresh out of the oven] One ha' penny, two ha' penny, [huh??] Hot! Cross! Buns!! [dripping with glaze, about to be devoured] Happy Easter! I just, uh, have to go clean up the kitchen. (Where the buns are.) (DON'T FOLLOW ME.)
Warning: This post contains gardening p0rn. Proceed at your own risk! It's been raining and raining and raining here, and that's good, both because of this pesky drought, and because it means I don't have to water our garden. So instead of watering, on days when it's not pouring---which would be, in the last two weeks... um, today---I can just go outside and pet the plants and feel smug. That's not entirely true, of course. I don't pet the plants, because they prefer to just be hugged. And I don't really feel smug, because I've never done any gardening from seeds before, and I am ill-suited...
I cannot stop baking. I don't know if it's because I am keenly aware that our days at our current beloved school are numbered or because I have friends having a hard time right now or just because we are full up on Matters Largely Unbloggable (tm) ourselves, 'round here, but my oven is on all the time. Because cookies will make it all better. Cookies for the teachers. Cookies for the kids. Cookies for my husband, who insists he doesn't need any cookies, who says no until the children harangue him and make sad pouty faces until he agrees to try one, okay, FINE. Cookies for friends, and...
There is a downside to working from home, all by myself. Some might say that it's causing me to become even stranger than I already am, but those people are hopefully not within stabbing distance, because I have a mug full of dull pencils and I'm not afraid to use them! [Not that I ever use pencils. The children do. They use them until the leads are actually LOWER than the surrounding pencil barrel, then they return them to my mug and feign ignorance when my attempt to scrawl a phone number on my scratch pad yields only a faint squeak of wood against paper. "It wasn't ME," they both protest,...
Today is prep day. In order to prevent myself from having a nervous breakdown tomorrow, today I have to not only get enough work done that I can more or less stay offline for the day (as running off to check my email when we have a houseful of guests might seem rude) (though perhaps I could slip my iPhone into my apron pocket...), but I also have to cook a whole mess of stuff (yes, that's the technical term) so that tomorrow I can concentrate on the turkey and our company. And the wine. Of course. So this morning I got up and threw some cranberries into a strainer in the sink, and did some...
So, as much as I would love to stay here and treat you to my standard prattling on about nothing, I cannot, today. For today is the day that I get to go repeat one of the more awesome experiences of my recent life. Whatever could it be? Am I going to recreate Otto's and my wedding? Win the lottery? Get a really awesome deal on shoes? Alas, no. Today I have to go have another MRI. And you might recall how much I enjoyed the first one. Naturally---because I NEVER LEARN---I made plans for after this one, too. Because nothing says "let's get together and hang out like adults" like a giant crease...
I am a tidy person, deep in my heart of hearts. I crave order. Little delights me more than looking for an item where it belongs, and finding it there. A place for every item and every item in its place. And while we're on the topic, let's just say that the fewer items, the better. It is at this point that anyone who's ever visited my house or, say, someone who LIVES IN MY HOUSE will start to laugh hysterically. Because the state of my house... ahhhh... how shall we put it... well, the state of my house doesn't exactly reflect my heart of hearts right now. Or ever. Details. And so this...
My job, right now, is to keep things as normal as possible 'round here, for the kids, and try not to let on that I'm exhausted and stressed out and worried and generally not at all interested in cooking or working or listening to the story of how that one Pokemon totally defeated that other one. Some days this is easier than others. Today I decided that maybe if I sandwiched together a bunch of errands it would 1) take up most of the day and 2) make it less obvious to the children that I was making sure we all have outfits appropriate for wearing to a funeral. Maybe I just think Monkey needs...
