A day to be thankful for what we have, who we have in our lives, and what we've accomplished.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
This is me today:
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
I woke up this morning to the unmistakable sound of crowing.
Under my bedroom window. A rooster.
On my deck.
I do not have chickens. Well, until today.
I explained to him that he was close, but not at his house. I also explained my dislike of germs, including his poop, which I could see he was thinking of expelling on my deck.
Lastly, I explained how I am a huge fan of chicken, which includes roosters. Roasted.
And that I'm a very good shot.
Which I proved with the Super Soaker.
He won't be back.
You know you're in for a great day when the first thing you do is hunt a chicken with a squirt gun.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
There was a dude who lived here a few years ago who moved onto the island and never left, for like, six years.
I kid you not.
He was relatively sane, too, which I could never understand.
I mean, I go long stretches, but six years? He left maybe 4 times in six years.
I'm in the middle of a long stretch right now.
Twelve weeks of "Can you pick me up some milk, coffee, and um, a clothes dryer?"
I caught myself rocking back and forth today, staring into space.
I'm not even in the running for a bronze.
I believe I now hold the title as She Who Never Leaves The Island. I've outlasted them all. And it's only the beginning of November.
Monday, November 8, 2010
My kids came to me tonight, claiming their independence.
Not moving out or anything, because, you know, I can cook very well. And I take requests.
No, we are going away for the weekend.
Tonight they wanted to pack their own bags.
First, I laughed, because I'm super-supportive of their growth and abilities. High-five!
They're used to this reaction. They waited me out with looks of barely contained impatience.
Then they ran off to their rooms, and I heard drawers slamming and the unmistakable sound of clothes plopping on the floor.
It took Thing One about 5 minutes to return with a cardboard box my Mother had given her to hold pictures, bulging and threatening to explode.
She instructed me not to open it because it took her a long time to get it to shut, and assured me she had the requisite amount of socks, underwear and a toothbrush.
Thing Two emerged two hours later with a train and a Hot Wheels car.
I took him back into his room, and had him pick out the required clothing. I made him stuff them into his bag himself.
I suspect he will be the child I will be booting out the door at 30.
After the kids went to bed, I gathered all our crap in one place. There's a lot of crap.
Kids= one bag each and a sleeping bag. (Or, one bag, and one 8x10x3 cardboard memory box in the shape of a suitcase that isn't going to make it off the ferry before exploding)
Me= 1 rolling suitcase, 1 knitting bag that will never see the light of day but must travel with me just in case, the diaper bag (shut up.), a canvas bag with food, gifts, and stuff to be returned, a bunch of empty canvas bags The Big Guy was supposed to bring to the mainland three times and didn't, one booster seat, and a cooler.
That's traveling light.
And that's when it occurred to me that I'd never checked Thing One's packing job.
Now, it's not like we're going to Camp, where socks and underwear and sweatshirts are imperative, irreplaceable, and otherwise unobtainable due to the lack of stores.
Anything she forgot we can easily obtain.
But, really? I'm really not going to see what she brought?
There's every possibility that she packed 2 pair of PJ's, a change of underwear, and four dolls.
I didn't check.
I'm going through with it.
I can do this. She will learn from this.
I'm bringing my Ativan.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Yesterday, amid manning the Post Office and the Election Polls, I received a wonderful message from a fellow blogger.
She felt compelled to give me an award.
Thank You, JuleeQue. You are too kind.
I will be visiting Greece for the next 6 weeks, virtually, through Julie.
Which is awesome, because I know I would have 'bathroom issues' over there.
My Dad went to Italy a few years ago, and hotel accommodations were handled by Somebody Else.
The area they visited (which shall remain nameless) was quaint and picturesque, and charged 25 cents a square for toilet paper.
My Dad promptly located a Hilton in a heavy tourist area.
I was traumatized just hearing this. I can never go to Italy.
Apparently, it's much the same all over Europe. I will stay stateside, where I can flush with abandon.
I hope Julie documents everything she sees and eats (I'm all about the food), and has the time of her life!
p.s. My Mother's account of Singapore and China was even worse (in terms of bathroom, um, facilities. If by facilities you mean 'ditch'. )
All Hail Sir John Harington, inventor of the flush toilet...and my hero!
I email this link almost daily to a few friends who are known to, um, imbibe frequently.
And I've been known to post them on Facebook from time to time.
They beg to be shared, if only for the coolness of the owls, and the expressions on their owl-faces.
I don't know where they get these pictures, but the captions are priceless!