If you’d been stalking me throughout this week, you’da been massively entertained. I was nearly massively entertained myself, cept I kept yawning. Every morning this week has been me sitting in bed staring at the trees, my sleep center all, bitch, you know it ain’t no 7:00, this feels like 6. I abhor time change and it’s worse in the spring. What time is it really? Is it really this time and the other time was a lie? It is, isn’t it?
I didn’t have downs this week, I only had ups and weirdness. I’d like to share all the details with you as a three-dimensional, in living color, animated me, but I can’t, so I’ll share the bloggable bits here.
Last summer, I tried to return some cello strings to the music store by carrying in the bag of light bulbs I needed to return elsewhere. We all had a good laugh about it, and one clerk said, “Yep, so that just happened. I can’t believe that really just happened.”
My life lately? A lot of me doin impressions of that guy at the music store.
Have you ever left a bag at the grocery store? I did. Moo asked for the following meals, and I quote:
“Potatoes and onions with meat in the red thing,” and “the chicken with the stuff and the leafs on top.”
For that, one needs salsa. Bought it; didn’t have it. Didn’t have the new bottle of maple syrup on breakfast night. Don’t have the pound of coffee I bought that day, either.
FYI, chicken with the stuff and the leaves is not nearly as tasty without salsa.
Our kid told us the banquet was a dress-up event. Made a big deal about us all dressing up. We all dressed up. The boy one put on a handsome shirt and almost died. For no good reason whatsoever. Just us round-table Motterns sittin like some sorta well-dressed, sad cult. Tsk.
You know what’s awkward? When your kid thinks she told you what time to pick her up and she calls and asks, “Are you here? I don’t see you.”
“No, but Daddy can be there very quickly.”
Because “First we play and then we get an hour of instruction and then we go home,” is not an answer.
The unknowable is real, merely undefined.
Googled a place. Said place is on a street we’ll call Lido. I said to The Mister, “Isn’t Lido street familiar?”
“It’s here isn’t it? Right around here somewhere isn’t it?”
“I think so. Where do I know that from? I can’t place it.”
I looked it up.
“Heh. It’s literally that street beside the thing,” I showed him the map.
We have driven on Lido street thousands of times, maybe even tens of thousands. And yes, it’s right around here. Now it’s gonna be a game I play with local people. “Ever heard of Lido street? Do you know where it is?” Mind. Blown.
Moo, like someone’s disenfranchised granny, was hoarding her medicines to make them last longer. Now that she knows about refills, she’s decided she’s worth slathering cream and taking a pill every day. It’s amazing what you have to tell people. Parents, do not stop to think about all the things you’re responsible for teaching. You don’t have time. You have to cram it all in there. “Make the cookies last, but use the medicine as prescribed.” You have to tell them that. How else would they know?
My mother lost a recipe in Hurricane Irma. That’s her story. I need to email her a recipe because ever since the hurricane, she can’t find it. Interesting premise, isn’t it? Hurricanes ransacking homes for valuables and meaningful goods. Your house looks livable after the hurricane, but you’re actually missing a recipe, an embroidered hankie, and one of your favorite books. It happens all the time when you move house, why not in a hurricane? Put down the scissors and run with that.
Happy Friday Everyone!