The Late Arrival

We needed paper plates. Not one thousand paper plates. Just enough to tide us through the days when we don't feel like washing dishes. That would be a quick trip to Walgreen's. From parking, to running in, to checking out, it'd be ten minutes. Tops. Which is perfect, because despite my near constant presence at The Store, capital "T" capital "S," I hate shopping. From making the list, to scavenging for items matching the coupons painstakingly clipped, to throwing the stuff in the cart, to waiting in the checkout line, to lobbing the stuff from the cart onto the conveyor belt, to stuffing it all into the car, to hauling it into the house, only to pack it away where it magically disappears into the cupboards, fridge and freezer: I loathe shopping, and also, especially The Store, capital "T" capital "S." Doesn't help that the place is one square block, and nine times out of ten, if I'm there for even four things, all four th...

The coming New Year's been tapping my shoulder, pulling on my blouse and prattling and tattling at me like the people with whom I live as soon as foot number two crosses the threshold of our house. My response to the New Year is much like the one I give to those two people:  I swat and whisper at it Okay, okaaaay...Let me get my feet under me and then I can pay attention to you. I just need one moment. Just one. Please. That was pretty much last year's response to the incoming year too. In all rights, I owe an apology to 2013. Poor thing, it's been waiting for me to get my act together, develop some sense of clarity and attend to its needs like I promised way back in late Aught '12, but that still hasn't happened. I'm sorry, Outgoing Year, I really am. So, to the New Year: I feel you there with your tapping, pulling, prattling, tattling and pushing me to attend to your needs. I understand you think you need some goals or resolutions; and I get...

It’s 6:00am and I’m awake. The sun and moon are in a battle to see whose light will win the morning. Through slats in the bedroom blinds, I peer out to see the cold, navy hue the battle has cast over our tiny yard. It’s the same every morning when I should be up, not just awake. The sun and moon battling. The sun always winning out in the end. Me being awake, but not up; knowing the extra thirty minutes means the difference between leaving with or without makeup, stress versus ease in wrangling my daughter out the door and on the road to school. Still, I stay awake, but not up. A half hour later, I’m up…and like someone fired a starter pistol near my ear, I’m washing myself, double-checking with her about lunch, knee pads, gym clothes, does the dog have fresh water – and where is the dog anyway? Then we’re leaving and I remember my rings – the one of promise, the one that sealed the deal and the one that reminds me that I’m a mom. Where are they? The starter pistol rings in...

Facebook rants aren't my style. I mean, after all, Facebook didn't set out to hurt anyone, so why go off in such a public -- Facebookie -- way? I can understand clearing out the cobwebs, getting whatever it is off your chest, out of your head or away from your person in general, but what makes someone type out all that vitriol and then, rather than be all "Ahhh..now it's out of/off of/away from" and move on from there, rather than pressing the "Post" button once it's out of/off of/away from? I think I know now. Perhaps it comes from procrastinating the inevitable until the last minute and you find yourself completing yet, another form for an extra-curricular that you know your fourth-grade daughter is excited about. You realize the only thing standing between her and it is...you completing that form. And so you pull up the PDF form over your lunch hour, dig out your health insurance card because you know  this form is going to ask for the Grou...

Have you ever not wanted to flip the calendar page into the new month?  It's a strategy akin to burying your head in the sand, or in the old month, if you will.   That's what I do sometimes. Something in my brain says to leave the old month exposed because it will magically postpone the board meetings, volunteer commitments, teacher conferences, days off school and doctor & dentist visits scribbled in on each of the new month's rapidly approaching days.  It's just some silly psychological game -- just like hitting the snooze button so you feel like you've gained a whole extra nine minutes of sleep. A silly strategy if ever there was one. If Dr. Phil was here, he'd probably ask in that Texas drawl of his "So how's that workin' for ya?" and I'd have to hang my head and tell him that it doesn't work at all.  Ready or not, those days still come -- and most of the time, I'm more Not than I am Ready . So two days before Chri...

Spending the last 3pm of the year sucked into the Twilight Zone marathon. Facebook and Twitter are buzzing with New Year's Resolutions, 'What I'm Going to do Differently in 2012'  and general forward-thinking-good-intentions. So much planning makes me a little woozy.  For now, I'll choose to thank God for keeping my family intact; and for keeping us from contacting any morticians or composing funeral programs; and for sustaining everyone's health, including our dog's.  I'll be thankful for our home, that we have a Peter to rob when Paul comes knocking, that we've got jobs to (occasionally) complain about and that we've got food in our shelves and refrigerator. Which brings me back to those resolutions: 35lbs or looser fitting jeans by this time next year.  Whichever comes first.

We made it through the Christmas weekend, enjoyed family, unpeeled a few presents and ate.  And ate. And ate. Now it's back-to-work and back to some sense of schedule.  Truthfully, there's a part of me that hates to see it go.  I mean, it's kind of ironic that we get thrown back into the fray just as soon as we've unfrayed from the seasonal fray. But that's the way real life is...and I guess I'm just realizing that the seasonal fray of obligations, overpacked schedules and general racing around isn't real life after all. And I'll be okay with that...until about 364 days from now.

17 + x = 25 If I had only paid closer attention in Algebra, I'd know what "x" is; and I'd know how many days there are until Christmas. From what I can tell, it's close. Like breathing down my neck, whispering in my ear in an inappropriate way close. Given that, our frasier fir, once aromatic when replanted in our living room last week, and is now on the verge of collecting dust like my elliptical, was introduced to the ornaments only a mere hour ago. I like to think that I'm organized. Like, maybe I'm not organized about myself (e.g. packing a healthy lunch, eating a healthy dinner, regularly working out, hanging up my clothes...well, you get the idea); but at least I'm organized about family stuff . Birthdays stuff. Kid stuff. But not this year. To be honest, I'm not sure if it's peri-menopause, stress, work, trying to get this blog off the ground or a combination of all of the above, but all of the sudden, Christmas is staring me...