Saturday, January 29, 2011

Mixing Metaphors - My Forte

QueenMaker walks up behind me while I'm doing the "financials" for our accountant and says, "That's wrong.  It should be 58, not 56."

Me: "No honey. That is 58.  See it says 58."

QueenMaker: "Oh.  Are you sure?"

Me: "Yes."

QueenMaker: " Oh, I guess I read it wrong. How about that one.  It seems wrong.  Shouldn't that read 184?"

Me: "It does silly.  See?  Are you wearing your reading glasses?"

QueenMaker: "No."

Me: "Well, people without glasses should not cast the first verbal stone."

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Random Words


Pressure - That's when you have six highly diverse projects with deadlines that fall within one week of each other in February.

Balance - That's when you help your sanity by staying on track, continue hacking away at the debris, to remove each item from the dust bowl in your head, and then, maybe, there's still a ray of hope that it will all get done and done properly - the Slow March of Progress.

Excuses - trying to stay away from the emotional, depressing, anger filled, distractions that can put a halt to the Slow March of Progress and turn it into the I Don't Give a Flick Anymore - Lying in Bed All Day Doldrums.

Weathered - Everything looks weathered. My car, my house, my poor coat, my boots, my life, my hair, my face, and my patience.  Winter needs to pick up its long grey weathered coat and get out of here!

Space - Home on the range. Vast Space. Free range chickens. Space to run. Time to Run. Space time continuum. Time to spare. Time to think. Thinking freely. Running freely. Freedom. Space equals Freedom. I want a lot of both.

Distractions - Lots of them.  To stop you, to boost you, to help you weather the bad stuff, to keep you from doing the good stuff, to give you space, to give you excuses, to offer balance or to keep you off balance, or to take the pressure off or to turn up the heat.  It could go either way.

Either way, head over to UnMom for more Random Tuesday Thoughts.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

She Needs to Know

I was inspired by the connection we made today when my mother called from Puerto Rico. 

She Needs to Know 

She called wanting to know.  That’s what a Mom needs. 
She needs to know.  Everything.
If She can know
then maybe She won’t worry so much. 
She’ll keep connected to the people she loves. 
A connection that cannot possibly ever be severed.

If she knows, maybe she can be there for her child.
Maybe there will be a need to console,
to advise, or to cry with her child. 
Or maybe to cheer, rejoice, congratulate,
or exclaim like the days of old.
But best of all maybe to laugh
and be more than mother and child
and thereby find joint joy.
By knowing, she can imagine
that eyebrow of yours going up,
the glint in your eye when
you’ve made a decision,
the way you look when you’re pensive. 
Her connection is experience.
She needs to know
because she believes she’s the one person
that knows you better than you know yourself.
She imagines the thoughts and emotions running through you.
And feels it with you so far away.

And when She called, I made it light and airy. 
There was nothing new to report
No crisis, no triumphs, a typical cold day
Much like hers except there’s heat in her day.
Nothing that needed much knowing
No underlying need to role-play mother and child
But I know that She likes to console and feel needed
so I complained of all I had to do.
And she told me to slow down and take it easy.

So we laughed, we talked
Of happy things, listening to the joy
And the harmony within our voices.
Because now I know what She knows
Our ages are far closer than our years
And I know and feel the same need
To be the She, wanting to know.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Don't Expect Any Doggie Back-Up

When everyone in the house heard the loud thump on the floor, the three of us looked at each other. Two of us jumped up immediately to investigate.

The third one made a bee-line for the back door and wanted out of the house.

Smokey is no guard dog.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Sugar Make You Go - Go Do Random Stuff


Well I've done it again.  My motor is revving and there is no stopping me now.  Let me see.  Let me count the sugary ways that somehow, randomly, don't know how it happened, got into my body.  


Pies:  Loads of them.  From Thanksgiving forward, there are pies and cheesecakes.  Pumpkin pie, pecan pie, apple pie, spinach pie, strawberry cheesecake, turtle cheesecake, all the way to New Years.


Cookies! Tons and tons of them.  My mother in law who has been pretending she's been dying for the last six months, had her medication adjusted.  She's in hospice now and her new nurse reconfigured her medication.  At first she was afraid of hospice. But they assured her that hospice didn't mean they were going to put her down like they do an ailing dog, but to improve her quality of life.  And they have!  She feels more vibrant and can breath more easily.  To prove it she made eight gigantic batches of eight different kinds of the most delicious cookies.  But with whom can she share these mountain of cookies?  Me.  So there's that.

More cookies! The mother of a student of mine sent in a gigantic tray of homemade cookies and muffins, along with handfuls of chocolates. The centerpiece was two caramel apples, one covered in white chocolate chips and the other in dark.  Do I have to eat them all?

Christmas Party for the kids at our school.  All the wonderful parents brought treats, cookies, cupcakes, cookies, sweet tamales, cookies, twizzlers, and cookies.


Chocolates:  Who gave me this ginormous bag of Ghirardelli Squares?   Hell, who gave me this other bag of Ghirardelli  squares?    People stop it!


Birthday Cakes:  Why does everyone in my family procreate in March?  Ladies are you so cold that you pretend to forgive your husband, or pretend to be asleep, or suddenly your headache is cured, so you can grab some of that fiery furnace heat coming off your man, that you actually snuggle up to him?  Ladies, that  can only lead to one thing.  Right?  You know what I'm saying.  Consequently December babies are dropping left and right around here!

I proclaim that March is a NO SEX month!    Who's with me?    Please family, I can't afford the birthdays and the baby Jesus' birthday too.  No. More. Cake.


Baklava:  My Birthday.  Yes, I too am a Christmas baby.  For most people, they get to wipe their brows and thank their stars that the holidays are over and all the food they have consumed over the past two months will soon find its way out of their systems.  But each year for my birthday I get a half a tray of baklava from my love.  And. I. Eat. It. Like. It's. Potato Chips.  So there's that.

Sugar Make You Go

Bouncing off the walls.
Took my nephew to school.
Went to the fruit/vegetable market.
Went to the school to work a couple of hours.
Cleaned my room.  It was a mess.
Organized my sewing and craft room.
Created a marketing slash office slash budget slash personal goals slash, weight loss plan for the next six months.
As a spreadsheet.
Called our accountant for our yearly appointment.
Called everyone and made appointments with everyone.
Took down both Christmas trees.
Made onion rings.
Talking a lot to anyone and no one.
Dancing down the decked halls.
Imparted great wisdom on the web.
Reviewed the latest Adult Education brochure that came in the mail. Circled some classes.
Colored my hair.
Updated my weekly and monthly calendar.
Completed some on-line banking.
Reorganized pictures for our web guy.
Rewrote copy - four pages worth.
Emailed my son three times. I kept forgetting to tell him stuff.
Cleared off every flat surface in the house.  Almost.
Visited with my sister, niece, and nephew.
Baked chocolate chip cookies.

Yes, I made chocolate chip cookies.  But thankfully they're for my 21 year old niece for her birthday. She insists I make her a batch every year before she goes back to school. She's a December baby too, born on the 22nd. And so is her brother, born on the 24th.

Stupid sister, having sex in March, be-otch!

Did I eat some of those cookies?  Only one from each batch that came out of the oven.  Or only the ones that were almost burned or too brown to give away.  Only a dozen or so.  They're almost gone.


The accelerated particle collider gots nuthin' on me. I might create my own black-hole right here in the living room.  So stand back.  No really.  Stand back.

I've got more to do and there's so little time.  I suspect that this sugar high will last about another week or so and then I can relax again with the same lazy panache that is so my trademark.

So onward to the next thing, and then the next.  Go to Keely's and check out the list of randomness going on over there and get back to me later.
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