If waffle maker
mishap is indicative,
I should just stay home.
Good morning!
Well, sorta.
Okay, so let's just get this out of the way: My gripe of the day is that I'm conflicted about my desire to vent, and my knowledge that I have it pretty darn good and should probably just shut the hell up with the whining before I even start.
I'm sitting here in my temperature-controlled home in a safe neighborhood, with my fat butt and full stomach, a healthy kid, a wonderful man, and a whole lot of other 'things' I don't need or deserve. I'm considering what any given Iraqi, Somali, or Palestinian mother might have to say about my complaints, and, it ain't pretty. The biggest point of contention in my family is that our plenty-of-room home isn't really big enough anymore, because we just plain old have too much stuff.
Seriously? I just got all poetic up there about the fact that my WAFFLE MAKER puked doughy white goo on my counter. Tragic! How can you blame me? What woman on the planet ever lived happily ever after without a properly-functioning waffle maker?!?
While I'm at it, let me also say that I frightened a poor dental receptionist this morning who called to reschedule an appointment. The truth is, I didn't want to go anyway. Did I tell her that? No...I told her what I thought about doctors cancelling at the last minute, and how I think my next office visit should be free. Granted, I don't think I was rude, and I stand by my convictions on this issue...but still. I could have just let it go. As far as I can tell, the world is still turning, and I'm eating a not-so-terrible-after-all waffle instead of getting my spit suctioned into a creepy loud tube-thingy right now.
So, I'm going to go do a Pilates workout with my kid (after My Life as a Teenage Robot is over...priorities!), adjust my baditude, and have a wonderful Friday.
I hope YOURS is wonderful, too! :)
Here's an old MySpace blog that inspires me to focus on having a memorable summer! :)
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Cicada Safari! Current mood:Indescribable
Tonight, my daughter and I went on a Super Seventeen Summer Cicada Safari. It was amazing. I'm talking about the 17-year-cycle cicadas, which will not come above ground again until Kadison is 23 years old. This was a very important adventure. We drove out to Rock Cut State Park, where I had heard there are thousands of them. We weren't sure exactly where to look, so we drove around, windows down, radio off...and followed the sound. Oh, the sound! It was amazing. Not shrill and deafening, like the sound some other cicada relatives make every summer evening in some areas of town. Nope. These horny bug-men are GOOD at the mating song. It was absolutely beautiful. Really. It made me cry. It is such a soothing, medatative, melodic hum. What an amazing treat for all the people camping out there tonight. If only I'd planned ahead, we may have done that this weekend. Anyway, we got out, and filled a bucket full of the empty molted shells, which are disturbingly crunchy and fragile, but very cool. You stick them to your clothing, and it's like velcro. Until, of course, you break the legs off. We wore them all over our shirts like jewelry for the rest of the day. People were a little alarmed at first, but the Summer of the Cicada is a big deal around here, so people in the stores quickly understood what they were, and smiled, and many stopped for a closer look. Some even took a few to wear themselves. We got some great pictures. I will never forget this day. Most importantly, neither will Kadison.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment