"Is that the right time? It couldn't be," she said, staring at the jeep time.
"No, you have to subtract six hours,"
"And add twenty minutes," my nine year old chimed in...
"Technically, you add 23 minutes, but we just round the number to the closest ten." I said.
My mother looked at me, one of those 'Where did you come from?' looks. She came by this past weekend.
"I brought you a book on sewing!" I thumbed through the book, hundreds of pages of diagrams and black & white photos, women in aprons they made, classic 50's or 60's. Smocking photos.
"Look! It even shows you how to do the smocking," she says. I study the pages. Algebra. Geometry. Some foreign language for sure.
"I can't read it," I tell her. I marvel that anyone can. That sort of brain is to be envied for sure, when in comparison I fumble. Are you one of those people?
Lap it up like a kitten at a milk puddle, lap it up then sweat it out your pores? Lap it up and sweat it out; like a song that resonates, but for some folks complex processes as well.
I may make no sense this morning. I know, I just wrote a couple days ago. What's up??? I ran three miles yesterday, maybe I took a sudden surge of oxygen to the brain. Maybe I just have all my hens in a row. Or is it chicks in a row. Ducks in a row? A row of something, for sure.
I am all of hen and chicks, kittens and milk this morning. Too sweet. I should've just summarized my wee blog into a poem. I think it might have had kittens and chickens, or lapping milk and smocking silk, or, um, it would just been really really bad. So let's move on.
I saw that someone smashed D's mailbox while driving this morning. Internally I laughed. (Nobody can be kind all the time.) D is my husband's friend, although he hasn't come round to see him lately; Steven didn't pee in a condom for the drug test he was taking. And that's what real friends do, of course. Ha, ha, D, I know about you & your buddy, picking up "crack whores" (his term, not mine) videotaping strung out women, desperate ones doing deperate things, laughing. I know and you don't know I know. I guess you'll have to fix that box or get your porn at mommy's house again. Whoo! I'm terrible. So much for the kittens. Let's move on again.
"We have a hawk," It flies, circling over our yard daily.
"What? Where?" Steven looks around.
"There!" I point up and Steven studies the bird.
"Turkey Vulture," he tells me.
A week later, I point to the hawk again.
"Turkey vulture." Turkey vulture doesn't sound quite as exciting as hawk, though.
No company yet. I guess I'm going to go eat some cereal, run on the treadmill, do some laundry. Thanks for being so cool! Here's to finding inspiration in the little nonsense things of daily life. yt, Kat