Lyrics in the fog
And I wish I could promise you
A beautiful world
That would never break your heart.
Maybe that’s what we are here for…
We try and fix what comes apart.
–“Love Takes the Best of You” by Catie Curtis
I turned up the music LOUD on my way home tonight, trying to create so much noise that there would be no room left in my car or in my head for extraneous thought processes. It didn’t work.
I wanted to write something silly tonight, just to relax and giggle a little, but it appears that I don’t have it in me right now. You’ve been warned.
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On deadlines and other lines
Today has been a very stressful day, due mostly to a looming deadline and a project source who fell off the edge of the earth, leaving me hyperventilating and mewling in the distinctly quotable-quote-less VOID left behind. I spent the majority of today playing a delightful game of PLEASE TALK TO ME with a variety of professionals who, oddly enough, are busy enough working at their jobs that they do not have oodles of free time to chat with panicking journalists. Go figure.
Add to that my charming daughter coming home from school with a very interesting tale of woe, the disappearance of 75% of the socks in this household, and the touchiness of some people and/or my grievous insensitivity (take your pick! please! not that there’s anything WRONG with either of those!), and, well, it’s just been a very full day.
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When honesty is not the best policy
There’s a part of my brain that feels like it just switches over to autopilot as soon as Thanksgiving passes. It’s the holiday season! Follow the steps, execute the typical moves, make it to December 25th in one piece! Sure, there are some variations each year, but the basic goals are the same.
Add to this the fact that Monkey’s kindergarten teacher is the same one that Chickadee had, two years ago. This was not an accident. I LOVE LOVE LOVE his school and this teacher and her team. They did such a wonderful job with Chickadee that I requested the same class for Monkey. Part of what this means is that Monkey does a lot of the same things that Chickadee did. Same crafts, same field trips, same programs.
Same “Family Celebrations” survey.
The first time around I played nice. This time I’m thinking maybe I should just put it all out there.
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Weird little trash factories
It’s not politically correct to say that my children are weird. I’m aware of this.
And usually, I say they’re UNIQUE or VERY INDIVIDUAL or even, say, that they march to the beat of their own drum MACHINE (for a single drummer wouldn’t be nearly enough, particularly in Chickadee’s case).
But sometimes, there is no word other than WEIRD that will suffice. I love them, you understand. But they are NOT NORMAL. This may mean that they will go on to receive international recognition as scholars, inventors, artists, or axe murderers.
Or maybe they’ll just grow up to be fairly unremarkable adults who blog a lot about absolutely nothing. Hard to tell, really.
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Partials
Ever have one of those days where it feels like you’re working through a series of things, but nothing ever actually gets COMPLETED? Busy busy busy and in the end, you have nearly as much to do as you started out with. At least it seems that way.
*crickets chirp*
Okay, well, I can see that this is something that only happens to me. Nevermind! I mean, I got SO MUCH done today!
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All I have to show for today is a bent fork
Today was so boring, that if I told you every single thing I’d done since I got dressed, there would be nothing to tell.
Admittedly, that’s because I’m still in my jammies.
But I don’t know, there is (to me) something very comforting about a day spent on the couch with the kids, watching cartoons and hanging out and just generally being slugs. Sure, I could’ve been cleaning or getting out Christmas decorations or shoveling the driveway or buying groceries, but, um… uhhhh… well, I’m sure I had a good reason.
So I wore my jammies all day, and Chickadee wore her jammies for part of the day and an assortment of dress-up clothing throughout the rest of the day, and Monkey wore a floral-patterned unitard for most of the day. (Don’t ask.)
Casa Mir, home of the Fancypants Family.
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Lumps! Bumps! Grumps!
I hope that everyone had a grand Thanksgiving, filled with good food and merriment and most importantly, PIE.
Mmmmmm… pie.
I, myself, had a wonderful day. Oh, sure, there were a few little things I may have changed. But aren’t there always? In general the day was filled with all of the things I love the best. My children were ANGELIC and so I did spend some time searching for the pods from which they’d sprung, but after a day of food and play we returned home and they melted down and soon the cries of “SHE HIT ME IN THE EYE!” and “HE WALKED INTO MY FINGERS!” assured me that they were okay, after all.
This year was sort of different from last year.
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It’s like they made it JUST FOR ME
The children are well and fed and bathed and sleeping. Phew! (Monkey is completely recovered, and Chickadee had a MUCH milder version.)
My “famous” pecan pie is cooling on the counter.
On the one hand, when I review what’s happened since last Thanksgiving, there’s so much in the last 12 months I would love to forget.
On the other hand, all of that had to do with getting here; and for all of my bitching and moaning, here is still pretty good. I’m plenty thankful these days.
And just now? I was sitting here watching the Food Network and I found this shirt, and now I know I’m not alone. Hee.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
Thanksgiving: a time for slaughter
You know what aggravates me? You’d better sit down; it’s kind of a long list.
Kidding. (It really IS a long list. But lucky for you, I have one specific thing in mind.)
I hate it when someone whose writing I love has a blog but then hardly ever posts. I’m greedy. I WANT MORE.
The only thing that soothes me is that when the writing comes, it’s totally worth the wait.
Erica sure does know how to spin a yarn, folks. Go read, and when you’re done laughing, leave her a comment so that maybe next time she won’t go five months between posts.
Sleep-deprived and sellin’ out
The following is a paid announcement, in the sense that I accepted a $50 Best Buy gift card in exchange for my evaluation of a video clip. I am not the only blogger who was approached with this deal, and–to me–the terms were ones that I could live with. There are others who found the premise untenable, apparently. I’m not actually interested in bickering about THAT. Opinions are like… oh, you know. My understanding is that I’m encouraged to give my honest opinion, and that’s what I plan to do. Anyway.
I am surrounded by fevered children and popsicle wrappers and I am tired and cranky and during the only period of time today when I might’ve been able to sneak a nap, I sat at my computer waiting for a source to call me and the call never came (although once I tracked the person down, there were apologies, and I was professional about it instead of screaming “MY KID WAS UP PUKING ALL NIGHT AND I COULD’VE BEEN SLEEPING, BITCH!” which I thought was big of me, really), and in general I am just Not In A Good Mood.
But I’m willing to take some time out of my busy pity party for a bribe. Woo!
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