Sundays... So much better than Mondays

It's wonderfully cold and cloudy today...

Just what a Sunday needs.

I can lay abed without the guilt.

Oh sure, the kitchen probably needs cleaning; but I managed to walk through it with blinders on the way to get my coffee, so it's all good.

I love cloudy Sundays. I can be lazy without the guilt.

Yep, lazy seems to be my forte.

But Baby it's cold outside

It's 27 degrees here this morning.

And where the hell are my winter clothes? I must have some somewhere.

I mean, I got up and went to work last winter and the winter before, and I know I wore something....

I know this because naked is really NOT a good look on me.

I'm home!

Welcome to my new secondary home. I am going to painstakingly move 1 year of journaling here. So bear with me. There won't be any new posts for a while until I am finished.

Good thing I use Photobucket to store my pictures.

I understand that you can list your journals with BlogLines and get updates on new entries. And you can sign up with http://www.changenotes.com/tell.php that will e-mail you alerts daily on the blogs you set up to watch. That way you don't miss your favorite authors. A big thank you to Kraztweety2 for this new info.

Now.... To learn some fancy (or any) HTML language and decorate the Summer home I have here...

Save Me

Well the twins did it, the little ba**ards. Nevermind that it would drop kick their mother further into old age. They went ahead and did it anyway.

They turned 20 on Saturday. I mean how rude. 20 years old! Now when I meet some guy that smiles at me and then says he's 28... all I can think about is OMG my kids are his age, and that I have shoes older than they are... Kinda ruins the whole fantasy thing I could have going.

Now I have to find a 30 something. No wait... I can't do that either. My best friend has a son who is 32 and came to give me a quote for some stairs off my deck.... I've known him since he was a kid, he's still a kid! Let's just say I was having to chant his moms name in my head to keep myself on track.

When he left, I did however call her and asked 'when the hell did your son turn hunky. ' She laughed (fortunately really good friends can do that) and said it hit her the same way the other day.... AND that he was now dating her hairdresser who was 41. Hey... I'm not that far away from 41....

Naw.. she'd kill me. So.. 20 somethings are out... 30 somethings are out... which leaves 40 somethings.... And 40 somethings are generally looking for 20 somethings.... of which I am not. But if I were 20 something, I'd want a 30 something.... and we already know how well that goes over...

Where was I... normally I have a point, but I lost it.

Damn kids, I think they've shoved me into celebate senility.

I Love Dust

Last year I posted pictures of my tea pot collection.



I still enjoy collecting them and they're still all over my house. Although now I only buy the teapots that I find are really different or insanely cute.




But now, I've given into another weakness. Plates.... as in dishes plates .

I've always ooh and ahhed over some of the cutest sets in stores, but took a deep breath and passed them by. I mean really; how many sets of dishes does one person need? Buying a service 0f 8 everytime I see a set I like would just be, well stupid. And expensive. Not to mention I quit throwing things a long time ago.... And then... I got those plate racks from Freecycle. A perfect excuse to go plate shopping.

And look! There are still two spaces still open. I think another addiction has been acquired. How many plates and plate racks are allowed before it becomes weird, or tacky?




Hopefully I'll stop before my house ends up looking like a thrift store.

Or then again....maybe not.

I Spy.. EEK A Mouse

Seems I have a little mouse reading my journal.

Yep, college boy has been checking up on mom through her journal. Oh boy. I figure I have a few choices.... I'd could go private; quit writing; start a new journal with a new name and tell them I don't have one;

OR.....

I could start talking about sex and wait to hear about how he ran screaming from the dorm room holding his eyes, stumbling blind and incoherent into the arms of therapy. Hmmm... Decisions. Decisions.

Party Pagan

This year my neighbors put on an even bigger haunted house. Now you know why it costs me $60 in candy.Of course I could close my door and turn off the lights like some of our other neighbors do....but what fun is that?!

So I just hit the grocery store early, stock up on candy and wait for the crowds to appear. And they do. For 3 hours straight.Tell me those Mormons don't know how to party pagan!

The Flicker of Tomorrow

Saturday night brought with it a fire that burned warmly; casting a soft glow across the carpet. The soft aroma of coffee was wafting in from the kitchen just beyond the couch where I lay. The TV volume turned low while it's glow competed against the light from the lap top. I snuggled down into the couch. I was alone. The house was quiet. Each child gone for the weekend. The phone would remain silent as it always did. There would be no calls. There never were. Tonight would be no different. I wonder if this is how my future feels.

The Faces Of Halloween

If you were wondering where all your trick-or-treaters were this year....



They came to MY house.


This year I bought $60 dollars worth of candy. No way I was going to run out this year. My kids are too old to go candy collecting, so there would be no bags to steal from this time. I was determined to be prepared.


I mean could you say 'sorry no candy' to any of these faces?

The treat was - they got candy. The trick was - I got a picture and they walked around with flashbulb eyes for a while... hehehe.


And yes, I took pictures of almost every single one of the kids that came to my door (around 200).



My evil plan left me exhausted.


But as you can see, the kids loved having their picture taken.

Cold Mondays

43 degrees.

Where the hell are my sweaters.

These can't be my pants. Who the hell switched my pants with some anorexic biotch's pants.

Do I own anything other than sandals? I know I did last year. Where the hell are my closed toe shoes?

8:55. I'm supposed to be at work at 9:00.

I would have been on time if "somebody" had some decent clothes to wear.

I guess I could wear one of my long skirts. But that requires boots. Is it cold enough for boots?I need to go shopping. I hate shopping.

That's it. I'm calling in sick.

No I'm not. I'll wear jeans. No, I can't breath in those jeans. I wonder how they'd feel if I showed up in sweatpants.

!#%^^*+! sFreakin Monday.

Such are the Monday morning thoughts of a woman who needs to lose 10 lbs

Judi's Art Essay Contest

Church was over later than usual that Sunday morning. My (then) husband and I, along with hundreds of others spilled out of the main Sanctuary and started down the walkways and large expanse of lawn that led to the parking lots and annexes below. We were trying to make our way in the crowd to the Children’s Church building and collect our sons from their class. We picked up our guys and started making our way back down along the large church campus while being jostled occasionally by people anxious to collect to their kids and get to their cars too.

As we were walking, I noticed off to the right and across the open grass, a young girl about 10 years old with a younger boy. They were standing very close together holding hands.

I slowed down and kept glancing over at them constantly. I noticed there were no adults standing near them and something just seemed very odd. This was an extremely large church congregation; a few hundred people at least, all who were milling around everywhere. There were people making their way down the sloping hill passing all around the kids down to the parking lots and yet these two children seemed to be alone, standing in a clearing of sorts. “A clearing of souls,” I remember thinking when I saw them.

As we got a bit closer, I thought perhaps the young boy was crying. And then I heard his sister. She was sobbing.

Sobbing.

I hesitated for a minute wondering what was wrong and also if I should get involved. Before my mind could answer, I realized I had broken off from my husband and kids and was cutting across down the hill, my high heels sinking in the ground, as I made my way around other people to the kids. I knelt down in the grass in front of them and asked the little girl what was wrong. I remember her brother’s eyes were so very, very sad.

While crying she told me that when their (children’s) church was over they came out, there was nobody around and she thought her Mom had left them and then all of a sudden there were people everywhere and she was afraid. I told her that ‘big peoples church’ just now got out a bit late, and that I was sure her mom was still here and we would go find their Mom.Just as I stood up and took their hands, Mom appeared. I briefly explained what had happened and she hugged her children promising that she would never, ever leave them or lose them, and next time to stay in class. She thanked me and I watched as they drifted happily off into the crowd, down the hill.

My husband and kids came up and he asked me what that was all about. Why I took off across the grass. Did I know those kids?

I explained what happened. Nothing spectacular. They were just lost was all. But he found it very odd. ”I didn’t see the kids until you went over to them. How did you notice the kids with all these people?” he asked. “How did you hear her crying? And how did the mom find them in the crowd when she didn’t know they weren’t in Children’s Church?” I couldn’t answer. “So in other words,” he continued… “In all the time it took for us to get out of church and get the boys, those two kids are standing out there crying and not one person stopped before you did?” When he said all that, it did seem rather odd. But, I was left with that feeling you have when you do something really good.I had pretty much forgotten about the incident until last night when I read Jeroldssis, author of “It’s All About Me I Think.” And the wonderful entry she recently wrote.

So here’s my secret thought for Judi’s Art essay.

I sometimes think that angels walk among us; yet often go unnoticed. Their wings are concealed, draped in inconvenience.

A gentle whisper of conscious that we often turn away from. You can tell who they are if you help one. Their eyes are full of pain that only the heavenly that are returned to being earthbound know.

I believe they are testing mankind. And so often we fail. But sometimes, if we’re very, very lucky, we listen with our hearts and succeed.

Life

They say that "Life is in the details."

I have no details.

Seriously, none. Nadda. Zilch. Zip..

Feel free to talk amongst yourselves.

Seasons

Fall. The deceptive beauty of Nature when she begins to reveal the bony skeleton of time; Shedding it's camouflage and laying itself bare to critical eyes.

Life begins to draw in upon itself, back into dormant silence. Furious cries of colors erupt around us, flailing to hold on to the warmth that was. As the sun turns it's back on the fluttering pleas of life, colors burn and tumble, crisply echoing their disappointment.

Promises never met are now receded. Soon to be hidden away amid the gray. Will they remain unbroken. Can they withstand the silence or will only shards of them return when the promise reawakens. The patience of time will answer.

Winter will come with smokescreens of warmth to offer solace. Soft umber glows spiking out against a brittle sky keeping the promise lit.

Time is crystallized, quiet, reflecting itself in holiday glitter. A cascade of thoughts will be mirrored in a chandelier of expectations. Another table laid bare with sterling promises. Will they be kept or packed away like cherished heirlooms.

Melancholia creeps in, its tendrils twisting, tightening. But it will gain no purchase in stone. Soon its futile grasp will be broken by the simple, gentle dawn of a new day.

Such are the thoughts of a woman not ready to give up Summer.

1, 2, huh?!

The gym Update:

Step Class:

I understand why they call it Step Class. You're one step away from looking like a completly uncoordinated ass. Apparently tennis shoes negate any rhythm I may possess.

Body Pump Class:

One word. ... Holy Chit. Ok. That was two words. But still, holy chit.

When I recover enough to walk normal again, I will be back to this class. Anything that hurts this much, has to be doing something good.

Trainers:

You get one free class with a trainer. No thanks. I've informed 'mine' that I won't discuss exercise on any day that ends in "Y".

He's like12. And weighs less than I do. And didn't get the joke. Enough said, he's outta here.

Other than that, the gym is great.

Just kick.box.me.in.the.head.tread.mill.my.ass.off.great.

Aim...

We're in Mississippi.

We're gonna shoot something.

And since the spoiled child got a $TON$ of new shooting equipment for his birthday, including a new precision gun that is the price of a car....

...he better hit what he's aiming at.