I’m just jotting to tell you I’m taking a Me Day today.
So far, I’ve played word games, watched Monk, pet all my animals, and fallen asleep –twice.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go make a sammich and fetch a pickle and get back to how Mr Monk solves this murder.
Wishing you all a peaceful evening, heart, heart.
Occasionally, The Mister watches soccer on television. Sometimes I look at it. How I do with most of his programming, I watch and wonder why I’ve tethered myself to a person who enjoys sports, westerns, and gruesome horror flicks.
What I think while I watch soccer: i suppose it’s warmer hockey. i’m glad the kids gave up soccer. too much hot. pretty grass though. i guess it’s not grass. do the english still pull up their lawns in winter? i suppose hockey is more like short soccer with ice. do they serve malts at soccer matches? surely soccer was first. i should look that up. such a big field. oh, you’ve lost it! the people work so hard to get the ball all the way to their goal and one big kick and they have to start all over. how exhausting. that’s a very nice color blue. if i played soccer, i’d wanna be on the team with the pretty blue shirts and socks. if i played soccer i would be chaffed af. when did humans decide to do this sorta goal chasing? one minute you’re chasin caribou over the plains and the next you’re like, let’s just chase a ball from one net to another. nice bum, mister blue shirt. i reckon the ball likes not being skinned and roasted at the end though. prolly happy to sit on a shelf in someone’s collection, reveling in its heydays. oh the blue people lost. how sad. what the fuck are we watching now? jesus fucking christ, space jam. honest to god, he’ll never know how much i love him.
I know soccer doesn’t start with oc. Occasionally does. Awkward does, too and I think that counts.
Oc makes me think of octopus, and Octomom, because frequently when Moo and I get into the car in the morning, she’s all, “Go Octomom!” even though I’ve explained to her that Octomom was a real thing and not one I’d like to be compared to. She means how much stuff I can carry at once, which I suppose is amazing right up til you’ve had children and you’re like I can eat this banana and talk on the phone while I nurse a baby and braid this one’s hair while I sew a button and pull apart Legos simultaneously. Men be like, “Let me carry that for you,” and I be all “Thank you, I have been carrying everything since I picked that apple twelve thousand years ago.”
I jot. I ramble. Occasionally more than occasionally.
My Thursday made up for the rest of the week. It will be hard to top Thursday, but I hope Friday tries.
It’ll be sunny with a high of 38, which may thaw some things out today, including me. The wind will only blow at nineumph. That’s what Moo would say, “The wind’s blowing at thirteenumph.” Reminds me of when I was a kid and I thought the signs read, “duck zing” and “pedestrian zing” which is why I once tried to play XING in Scrabble — a little special, but not as special as the people who think the ducks are looking for signage. I was never young enough to think the ducks were reading.
Happy Friday Everyone!
There’s nothin like walkin around a neighborhood, tra-la-la, look at all the old houses.
And suddenly, new houses.
It’s the brightly-colored doors that got my attention. I’m not keen on modern design, but these are cheerful doors, perhaps especially in winter.
#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link and find the frog.
This particular #ThursdayDoors post is part of LindaGHill’s Just Jot It January.
— minutes pass —
After having dragged myself out of bed, I’m sat here staring into the white of my screen, no particularly creative or coherent thought following.
— minutes pass —
I’m just tired. Yes, still. I ate a peanut butter and jelly sammich for dinner last night and I ate it in bed. Frankly, I’m glad I managed to eat it all before the sleep came upon me.
–minutes pass —
Tonight, the girls will bake a frozen lasagna, make a salad, and slice bread. I look forward to that. And also to being home earlier than last night.
No swim meets tonight. I like swim meets, I just don’t like the seating. It’s tile on concrete. Or somethin harder. Basically, ow on top of ow.
It’s gonna get all the way up to 22 today. Maybe the sun will shine.
Sun ain’t awake yet, but he’s tryin.
— minutes pass —
Okay then, I have jotted.
It’s a special day for me/us, for it is the day I went with my bestie to a party, wherein I met my husband when I sat on his lap in the car — 31 years ago today. Aw.
But it’s a frickin Tuesday, so at 5:11am Tuesday called to let me know school is on a delay.
Remember that good sleep I wanted to have? Tuesday didn’t give a damn.
What sleep I did get was hard though, I can tell, because:
1) I fell asleep before The Mister.
2) I slept on the wrong pillow and although my neck is a bit stiff, that could be the FML tension that has been this morning.
3) I did not move, not even a little bit, until that call at 5:11.
4) When I woke up, my hair was undisturbed, like movie hair.
It’s not that I don’t understand the importance of delays, I do. It’s that it’s inconsistent. For instance, this delay is because it’s cold. It’s -3 and we’re gonna work our way to 13. Okay, and? It is January. We live in Indiana. This is not unusual at all.
If you’ve read me for years, then you know good and well I’VE STOOD AT THE BUS STOP WITH MY KIDS IN TEMPS AS LOW AS -20. Where were our delays on those days? Pfffft. Pshaw. Pthbbbbt! Whatever!
At work, I don’t have a job, or position, per se, where I can be late, *holds down fort* and so I have back-up plans for this sorta thing, and back-up plans in case my back-up plans fall through. Well no luck today. Thanks, Tuesday.
Moving on now. I am. Isn’t it nice I don’t have time to write in detail about this morning? Yes, much nice.
Leaving the house for the second time this morning — I’ll take the mulligan and begin again.
Won’t it be nice when my morning blog time comes with sunlight?
I’m so tired I almost cried about how tired I am. Now Mary J. Blige is in my head, “well i’m not gonna cry, i’m not gonna cry, i’m not gon shed no tears…” and I’m like it’s okay mary, we can try that whole sleep thing again tonight.
While my whole family’s at home today, I’ll be at work. I haven’t looked into the other holidays on my work calendar, but in general, no MLK Day means also no President’s Day and no other People-Don’t-Actually-Celebrate-These-Days days. I’m in the group like, ain’t no mail runnin, ain’t no banks open, ain’t no court in session, i could sleep til 9…and dang it’s a long time til memorial day… for I enjoy my work, but my family is not there.
If you have the day off, please enjoy it extra for me. Pet your animals, read a book, organize somethin.
In case you do not know, my MIL makes the best corned beef in the entire world. It is so tender that tender doesn’t even seem like the right word. Cliched phrases like ‘melt in your mouth’ don’t do it justice. It’s seriously one of my favorite things to eat, and it’s meat, which is kind of a big deal, so I need you to understand the dramatic emphasis here.
Whenever MIL asks me what I want to eat I tell her, “Corn beef and sweet gravy!” and she always laughs and says, “Oh Joey!”
I haven’t figured out why it’s funny, but at least she doesn’t cry.
I hope you aren’t hungry.
It’s important to use the spoon to make a hole in your mashed potatoes so that you get a substantial pond of gravy. I swoop the meat through the mash and gravy. The word gluttony comes to mind here, folks.
No, that’s not the same food at all. That’s firsts and seconds.
Doesn’t it photograph beautifully?
I could eat another round of that right now. I will probably fantasize about it off and on all day.
I really should make it, but then I don’t know that I could stop myself, and in the comfort of my own home, where I tend to be rude af not as well-mannered, I imagine jabbing people with my fork, screaming, “Mine! Mine!”
What’s your gluttony food?
Tortillas
Bunny breads
Words six, seven, and eight on the paper closest to me? My SoCS is based on a grocery list, of course!
We need tortillas because The Mister is going to try his hand at chicken quesadillas tomorrow. His wife mentioned that perhaps someone other than she should think about dinner prep now and again and not just expect these things to appear. He found her reasonable and she found him accommodating and they shall continue on their journey to happily ever after.
Also, tacos next week.
Bunny breads are very important. Bunny bread is a brand. We buy the wheat loaf for $1.69. It isn’t as good for you or as cheap as homemade, but it’s comparable to any other wheat bread a la crap.
I recently discovered that in Carmel, land of roundabouts, there is no Bunny bread. They’ve no need for cheap bread, I suppose. In a way, I feel badly for thrifty moms who don’t know about cheap bread in the city. How sad.
But Imma tell you about baking soda, too. We need baking soda because the girls are gonna put their trainers in the wash today, and that will use all the baking soda in the house and lemme tell you, I keep that well-stocked.
Hey, they could be doing this now. Hang on, Imma holler.
Okay so Sassy’s shoes smell awful. Her shoes smell like they lived in an athlete’s shoe, but really, they just live on the athlete’s feet. They smell so strongly of foot and sweat and chlorine that it gags me when she gets in the car. HORK! If you have anxiety disorder, and pee while Sassy’s in the shower, you may worry about the state of your urine, or your nethers, or your armpits — until you see her shoes there, emitting the dank, acrid smell of success.
And poor Moo, a cat threw up on one of her shoes. I suspect Catticus, for he is a great lover of both shoes and Moo, though I would say in that order.
Lastly Imma throw you a Pro-Mom tip on shopping expediently:
Cut the list into sections and provide each member of your family (or pairing if they’re small-like) and have everyone get what’s on their section and meet up front. Yes, it’ll take you a few extra minutes to list, but it will save you 30+ minutes at the store.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I know there are 109 unread blog posts in my email, but I must make myself presentable, eat Cracker Barrel, grocery shop, and head to The Palace of Rules. Thank you and have a great day!
You know when not working is better than working?
When it does this:
School is closed.
Sleet is hitting the windows.
My street is white again.
When he arrived safely, The Mister let me know it had been slick and hard to see the lanes.
I normally take secondary roads to work, but I reckon I’ll take the interstate today. I am afeart, (Yes, it’s a word, I just said it didn’t I?) I’m sure I’d be fine if absolutely no one else drove while I did, but people are … well, you know.
I will be talking to the angels.
I will also be wearing sneakers.
Happy Friday Everyone!
joeyfullystated 
You must be logged in to post a comment.