3.5--hours of sleep I got after I went to sleep at midnight
3.5--what time it was that Lee came in to tell me that he wet Alex's bed...with Alex in it
3.5--hours of laundry that it'll take to recover from his recent bedwetting spree
3.5--gadzillion times I wondered why I wasn't sleeping
3.5--snowflake designs I envisioned
3.5--Christmas gifts I mentally hashed out while lying on my pillow
3.5--hours until the 7:00 alarm
3.5--hours of sleep that I did NOT get
3.5--web pages visited looking for hubby's Christmas gift. Hey, I may as well.
3.5--minutes spent chatting with an overseas Irish friend who wondered why I was up
3.5--hours of a nap I'd like to take this afternoon
3.5--chunks of 10 minutes that I'll likely get
0--late-night snacks I ate while I was up.
Hooray for life's small victories!
Now will someone please give Cora a dvd tutorial and direct me to my bed?
Friday, December 10, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Happy Almost Blogiversary
It's been nearly one whole year since I started my blog. Now that I'm pushing a year, I've made some discoveries, have tentative goals in mind and come up with a few queries to myself.
First and foremost, I'm wondering...why on earth did I start a blog in December? What the heck sort of loony nutcase am I? December isn't busy enough already, I guess.
When certain friends of mine would hint strongly that they'd love to read my blog, I always responded that with 4 children and 45 apartments I didn't have time. I was right. I don't. For a while there I was blogging almost regularly, but as of late, I haven't. There are a couple of reasons for that, though, and they come in the form of other realizations:
--I can blog or read. Not both. My recent lack of blogging was superceded by Catching Fire, Mockingjay and the Warriors series that Abby brought home from the library.
--The oldish Thumperism "If you can't say nuthin' nice, don't say nuthin' at all" applies to blogging. When my mood or stage in life is tainted with an undercurrent of malaise, hopelessness or tickedoffedness, I don't blog. Like that bag of feathers released into the wind, I'd rather just shut my e-trap & err on the side of non-offense.
--Blogging is an evening activity for me. When the kids don't get to bed on time or if the hubby's home, blogging gets put on the back burner.
--Or if I'm frantically trying to get Christmas crafts completed by my deadlines.
I do blog in my head, still, and have lots of pictures that I take and think to myself, "This'll make a really great blog post." Then I don't.
Another discovery I've made is that even though I dream of being a fabulous blogger with tons of followers and regular comments, there is a sacrifice required that I'm not sure I'm willing to make. It entails first becoming a regular follower and commenter on multiple other blogs. And that takes a lot of time. So I'm not sure that dream will ever come to fruition in this stage of life.
In the meantime, I'll keep going forward, treating listingloquacious as what it truly is: my own personal public journal. And because I want to blog more frequently, I will.
After Christmas.
First and foremost, I'm wondering...why on earth did I start a blog in December? What the heck sort of loony nutcase am I? December isn't busy enough already, I guess.
When certain friends of mine would hint strongly that they'd love to read my blog, I always responded that with 4 children and 45 apartments I didn't have time. I was right. I don't. For a while there I was blogging almost regularly, but as of late, I haven't. There are a couple of reasons for that, though, and they come in the form of other realizations:
--I can blog or read. Not both. My recent lack of blogging was superceded by Catching Fire, Mockingjay and the Warriors series that Abby brought home from the library.
--The oldish Thumperism "If you can't say nuthin' nice, don't say nuthin' at all" applies to blogging. When my mood or stage in life is tainted with an undercurrent of malaise, hopelessness or tickedoffedness, I don't blog. Like that bag of feathers released into the wind, I'd rather just shut my e-trap & err on the side of non-offense.
--Blogging is an evening activity for me. When the kids don't get to bed on time or if the hubby's home, blogging gets put on the back burner.
--Or if I'm frantically trying to get Christmas crafts completed by my deadlines.
I do blog in my head, still, and have lots of pictures that I take and think to myself, "This'll make a really great blog post." Then I don't.
Another discovery I've made is that even though I dream of being a fabulous blogger with tons of followers and regular comments, there is a sacrifice required that I'm not sure I'm willing to make. It entails first becoming a regular follower and commenter on multiple other blogs. And that takes a lot of time. So I'm not sure that dream will ever come to fruition in this stage of life.
In the meantime, I'll keep going forward, treating listingloquacious as what it truly is: my own personal public journal. And because I want to blog more frequently, I will.
After Christmas.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Letters On the Road
Linking up with Julie at Foursons for this week's...
Dear Pedestrians,
You have the right of way. I am bigger and faster and deadlier and will keep an eye out for you and your well-being.
I am aware that when you're in a crosswalk, it is illegal for a vehicle to drive through that same crosswalk. But when a car is stopped, backing up traffic, waiting to turn until you're safely across the street, do you mind picking up the pace to a walk instead of mosey?
Sincerely,
Itchy Right Foot
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Bikers,
I will share the road.
I don't mind it. I think it's great that you are getting exercise, reducing emissions and saving the world. Good for you! I have no problem with you on the side of my lane, and I will always make sure that I give you a little extra space. Heck! Certain areas in Seattle now have green boxes at the intersections that are only for cyclists!
That said, as long as you're throwing a tantrum to be given equal rights on the road, do you mind obeying the rules? If I did half the ridiculous things that I've seen you do, I'd have my license revoked! That big red roundish sign with the little corners and white letters means STOP!!!
Sincerely,
Equality means Equality.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And though not a letter, a conversation with Lee that fits the theme:
"Mom, that girl just ran across the street."
"Yep. She made it safely, but probably should have waited until we passed."
"Yeah. Just like on Frogger."
Dear Pedestrians,
You have the right of way. I am bigger and faster and deadlier and will keep an eye out for you and your well-being.
I am aware that when you're in a crosswalk, it is illegal for a vehicle to drive through that same crosswalk. But when a car is stopped, backing up traffic, waiting to turn until you're safely across the street, do you mind picking up the pace to a walk instead of mosey?
Sincerely,
Itchy Right Foot
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Bikers,
I will share the road.
I don't mind it. I think it's great that you are getting exercise, reducing emissions and saving the world. Good for you! I have no problem with you on the side of my lane, and I will always make sure that I give you a little extra space. Heck! Certain areas in Seattle now have green boxes at the intersections that are only for cyclists!
That said, as long as you're throwing a tantrum to be given equal rights on the road, do you mind obeying the rules? If I did half the ridiculous things that I've seen you do, I'd have my license revoked! That big red roundish sign with the little corners and white letters means STOP!!!
Sincerely,
Equality means Equality.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And though not a letter, a conversation with Lee that fits the theme:
"Mom, that girl just ran across the street."
"Yep. She made it safely, but probably should have waited until we passed."
"Yeah. Just like on Frogger."
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Good News, Bad News
Today's Good News, Bad News is prompted by the search for items for Abby's Halloween costume...
Good News: I found my purple & white flag team (dance team) skirt.
Bad News: She doesn't want to be a cheerleader this year.
Good News: The skirt still fits me and is a touch loose.
Bad News: I only put it on one leg.
Good News: I found my purple & white flag team (dance team) skirt.
Bad News: She doesn't want to be a cheerleader this year.
Good News: The skirt still fits me and is a touch loose.
Bad News: I only put it on one leg.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Perfectly Imperfect
My dad teaches an early-morning scripture study class to a group of high-schoolers in my hometown. When we visited a couple of weekends ago, he mentioned that he needed a completed piece of needlework for an object lesson that he was going to use in one of his lessons, where he could show these teenagers the front AND the back.
He didn't explain the symbolism, but there was no need. Everyone judges the front of the stitchery, noting the beauty, complexity, deciding if they like it or not, often commenting, "I could never do something like that." Maybe even feeling jealous that another person has the talents & skills necessary to complete such a work of art.
Rarely is the back side given a second thought.
The back is usually a mess. There are knots everywhere, intentionally placed so the stitches hold fast. In some places, there are large, clumpy, accidental knots of thread, bunched together in unattractive 'oops'es. Where the front may have delicate French knots or ordered stitches, the back is riddled with seemingly random lines stretching from here to somewhere inexplicable. And the stitches behind the lettering only vaguely resemble the inspiring words on the front.
The front would not be near as presentable if the back was not so imperfect.
We're all like that, though. Every single one of us has knots, 'oops'es and scars that we hide from others. They're past experiences, lessons learned, lessons still being learned, struggles that mold us and form us and make us into better versions of us. The problem comes when we see the back of our own tapestry in all its funkiness and compare it to the beautiful, finished front of everyone else's.
I had an oddball thought as I was driving down the freeway this afternoon. What if we all wore t-shirts that showed our struggles?
--Doesn't feel loved.
--Scared of job loss.
--Molested as a teenager.
--Not good enough.
--Afraid of doctor's test results.
--Marriage on the rocks.
What if we decided that our knots, scars and missed stitches are okay? What would happen if I wore a shirt that said, "Worried about money; Concerned that I'm screwing up my kids instead of teaching them right; Keep forgetting to put my husband first in my life."? Okay, it'd have to be a dress, but you get the point.
Would we think less of each other? Would the world be a better place because everyone just gets it out there & doesn't have to struggle alone? Would it be way more pessimistic and we'd all just concentrate on our woes instead of being grateful for our blessings? (There would be some benefits, because it would be easier to protect ourselves from criminals and the like.) But how would it all work out? Would we run to others to alleviate their pains and uplift them? Would be reach out to strangers to help bouy them up and lift their droopy souls?
Would we forget our own woes as we love & serve & help others?
Of course it's a fantastical idea, unrealistic in many ways. I just wish that there wasn't such a negative social stigma to seeing a therapist or being on an antidepressant or...being imperfect! I don't know a single person on the earth today who's perfect.
There's only been one, and it's good to remember sometimes that He loves me, knots and all.
He didn't explain the symbolism, but there was no need. Everyone judges the front of the stitchery, noting the beauty, complexity, deciding if they like it or not, often commenting, "I could never do something like that." Maybe even feeling jealous that another person has the talents & skills necessary to complete such a work of art.
Rarely is the back side given a second thought.
The back is usually a mess. There are knots everywhere, intentionally placed so the stitches hold fast. In some places, there are large, clumpy, accidental knots of thread, bunched together in unattractive 'oops'es. Where the front may have delicate French knots or ordered stitches, the back is riddled with seemingly random lines stretching from here to somewhere inexplicable. And the stitches behind the lettering only vaguely resemble the inspiring words on the front.
The front would not be near as presentable if the back was not so imperfect.
We're all like that, though. Every single one of us has knots, 'oops'es and scars that we hide from others. They're past experiences, lessons learned, lessons still being learned, struggles that mold us and form us and make us into better versions of us. The problem comes when we see the back of our own tapestry in all its funkiness and compare it to the beautiful, finished front of everyone else's.
I had an oddball thought as I was driving down the freeway this afternoon. What if we all wore t-shirts that showed our struggles?
--Doesn't feel loved.
--Scared of job loss.
--Molested as a teenager.
--Not good enough.
--Afraid of doctor's test results.
--Marriage on the rocks.
What if we decided that our knots, scars and missed stitches are okay? What would happen if I wore a shirt that said, "Worried about money; Concerned that I'm screwing up my kids instead of teaching them right; Keep forgetting to put my husband first in my life."? Okay, it'd have to be a dress, but you get the point.
Would we think less of each other? Would the world be a better place because everyone just gets it out there & doesn't have to struggle alone? Would it be way more pessimistic and we'd all just concentrate on our woes instead of being grateful for our blessings? (There would be some benefits, because it would be easier to protect ourselves from criminals and the like.) But how would it all work out? Would we run to others to alleviate their pains and uplift them? Would be reach out to strangers to help bouy them up and lift their droopy souls?
Would we forget our own woes as we love & serve & help others?
Of course it's a fantastical idea, unrealistic in many ways. I just wish that there wasn't such a negative social stigma to seeing a therapist or being on an antidepressant or...being imperfect! I don't know a single person on the earth today who's perfect.
There's only been one, and it's good to remember sometimes that He loves me, knots and all.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Umm...
Do you see it?
I had this super-mega bottle of bubble solution for months before I noticed it.
Gotta' love the power of the brain. And someone on staff who reads English.
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