I got up from the table today, finally able to put my book down, finally, because I'd finished it. The last two pages had me crying- crying fat tears, and then I realized that I wasn't home alone. the girls are out of school for MLK day, so I wiped away my tears and decided I'd better tend to them before they ransack the fridge, emptying a new jar of pickles, pack of yogurts, or trying to pour juice into cups, leaving a sticky orange trail as they have before when I was previously a hostage of a good book.
The book was Cormac McCarthy's The Road. Two thumbs and all the other finger and toes up. I stumbled through in the beginning, not used to dark of it, but you know how it is when you get so involved, you just want to get to the outcome...
I'm to have company this week. My father called to wish me happy birthday (two weeks early) he's coming down, he said. What day? I don't know, he said. (LOL, can you tell I've been reading CMcC?) There's the part of me that is anxious about it- I haven't seen him in a couple years, and back then I played host to the large male equivalent of Debbie Downer,
Get me some Ice Water! You call this ice water? I stood peeling mangoes, biting my tongue. I could peel a mango twice as fast, he shouts, and there'd be twice as much mango left!
My mind says, "Then why don't you" but my mouth says nothing.
I know I'm coming across ungrateful, maybe ruthless. I'm venting. There was a time my mother sat in the hospital with me, just born, pleading that my father sign my birth certificate.
He told her it didn't matter, I was a girl, I'd get married anyway. I never lived with this man, and my mother, too afraid too ask for child support, raised me off of Denney's tips. And we were happy, life was good, it was enough.
How could you have such bad judgement? I asked her this week. This guy is coming over, claiming he's my father. I have to cater to him, to be kind. Why did you choose him to be my father?
My mother, in her New Age Reincarnation fashion, says what I knew was coming.
"Why did you choose him to be your father? Because you chose him long before I did."
And my response, easy, same as always,
"I didn't choose him to be my father. I chose you. You to be both my mother and father." because it was enough.
Yikes. Am I getting too deep here?
So I'll be catering to my father one day this week, who knows which one. Not Steve Bell, my imaginary father, but the real deal. The love and lightness in the air will turn stagnant and abrasive, abrasive like cracked heels on satin, and I'll lie awake thinking what I can do better, what I can do that won't be picked apart.
I filled the bird feeders with sunflower seeds, it was all I had, then a little titmouse flew up on the balcony, his beak black like the sunflower shell, making him look like he had a tiny duck bill.
He cocked his little head, as to say, What are you doing in there? Flew away again to a nearby tree, scraping the shell on the bark to crack it open. A redheaded woodpecker on the feeder, doing the same.
I read a thing about the writer's strike, but I haven't noticed it yet. Mostly I only watch the Sundance channel, and everything off of the TiVo list. Better, because a one hour show becomes 35 minutes when you fastforward the commercials. The only downside is that you never know what new movies are coming out.
The writers want more money I guess. They are getting canned because the season won't open in time? Is writing what they love? How does that feel, to do something you love and get paid insane amounts of money for it? I've a feeling for that money, anyone could write a pilot. (Come over. Give me a page length & a week. Hee hee.)
The writers are lucky, they are folks like me and you, in the right place, at the right time. They maybe ordered a sandwich next to someone who knew someone else. Sometimes I watch tv and think the well's run dry. (Not you, Larry David, you're well runneth over!)
I'm not in the right place, at the right time- for that. I'm in the right place for me. And I hear my girls laughing, the little one's face covered with lilac lip gloss. Funny. I mailed out another manuscript.
I showered. I spit in the shower. Is that disgusting? And then, after I spit, I thought about my nephew once saying that if you pee in the shower it will cure athlete's foot. His friend told him that.
I did not pee. But I did wonder if you tell someone that, does it mean you've done it? Did his saying that mean he pees in the shower? But it can't, because that would mean that I, too, am a shower pee-er for writing it down, and I'm not. Because I'd tell ya. :)
I'm going to go put the clothes in the dryer, maybe eat a piece of cheese. The dogs are barking. I hope there's no one here. Deep breath.
I've been missing you all. Love, love, love, love love, kat
Monday, January 21, 2008
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
can't sleep
hello again. & sorry I haven't stopped in lately. Christmas time, you know? That's the time when you blow hours looking, driving for that damned butterscotch pony (not worth it); the time you try to figure out where you're going on which days, what am i suppose to bring, and did you say my house? and well, you know we can't have 15 people at my house, we have no freaking bathroom door. i guess we can have them, but let's make it early so everybody will be gone by six, but then they don't even get here til six, and the macaroni is clumped up into one giant orange sculpture thing, if you will.
it's the time when the little crosses with names of folks who died in traffic accidents get santa hats. the time when you're kids shout "christmas lights!" and you remember before you had kids, how you used to have christmas lights, and you think maybe next year you'll get em out.
it's the time to try & come up with those obligatory gifts, and everybody else is doing the same, then you have a bunch of people standing around looking at their candles and canned nuts, jogging suits and glass dust collectors, and I guess jesus may not approve- but sometimes you envy all those jews that take the christmas break somewhere in the tropics.
There's definitely that part of me that longs to tell both sides of our family that we're going to others, then hang at the house and have a private shrimp boil, play a little jimmy buffett christmas island.
anyway, thank you for having me. I walked past an old helium balloon, thought it was somebodys head, then going up the stairs, i hear,"i'm sleepy" in that eerie robot doll voice, and all the lights are out. I look back at the thing, cause I'm too freaked by it, and it goes off three more times while I'm trying to figure out how to turn it off.
my manuscript hasn't sold, it's really about time to bury all of them and write something new for the new year. Perhaps I'll improvise a couple pages a day, i don't know. but I'm here at the moment.
I thought about a project I started writing, and how I'd written these few brilliant pages and the computer ate them like they were never meant to be. How could I recreate that kind of magic?
how can anyone recreate magic?
and then i think, where does it come from and where does it go?
remember the rocky horror picture show
looking stupid singing those songs
but strangely everybody belonged.
and you got away with going.
far as any girl could go
but then you grow some sense, right?
you see it for what it is
frivolous kids
don't know much and it shows.
those kids get on my nerves now.
can't go where the wind blows.
and frivoly is like a toothless fairy
not too bright, full of dust
but you get a little higher
if you have wings that you can trust
those wings are gonna crumble
so child do what you must.
do what you must
innocent bystander watching the world go by
i don't recognise her
got bigger fish to fry.
and I don't remember where my pan is
who's full of dust now?
frivoly's a toothless fairy
maybe one day i'll be wary
of having so much common sense.
i'll grow real old & dye my hair blue
just because i want to.
maybe partly for a laugh.
then you get drunk and tell stories to your grown grandchildren
like your mother used to do...ha ha. good night.
come back soon.
it's the time when the little crosses with names of folks who died in traffic accidents get santa hats. the time when you're kids shout "christmas lights!" and you remember before you had kids, how you used to have christmas lights, and you think maybe next year you'll get em out.
it's the time to try & come up with those obligatory gifts, and everybody else is doing the same, then you have a bunch of people standing around looking at their candles and canned nuts, jogging suits and glass dust collectors, and I guess jesus may not approve- but sometimes you envy all those jews that take the christmas break somewhere in the tropics.
There's definitely that part of me that longs to tell both sides of our family that we're going to others, then hang at the house and have a private shrimp boil, play a little jimmy buffett christmas island.
anyway, thank you for having me. I walked past an old helium balloon, thought it was somebodys head, then going up the stairs, i hear,"i'm sleepy" in that eerie robot doll voice, and all the lights are out. I look back at the thing, cause I'm too freaked by it, and it goes off three more times while I'm trying to figure out how to turn it off.
my manuscript hasn't sold, it's really about time to bury all of them and write something new for the new year. Perhaps I'll improvise a couple pages a day, i don't know. but I'm here at the moment.
I thought about a project I started writing, and how I'd written these few brilliant pages and the computer ate them like they were never meant to be. How could I recreate that kind of magic?
how can anyone recreate magic?
and then i think, where does it come from and where does it go?
remember the rocky horror picture show
looking stupid singing those songs
but strangely everybody belonged.
and you got away with going.
far as any girl could go
but then you grow some sense, right?
you see it for what it is
frivolous kids
don't know much and it shows.
those kids get on my nerves now.
can't go where the wind blows.
and frivoly is like a toothless fairy
not too bright, full of dust
but you get a little higher
if you have wings that you can trust
those wings are gonna crumble
so child do what you must.
do what you must
innocent bystander watching the world go by
i don't recognise her
got bigger fish to fry.
and I don't remember where my pan is
who's full of dust now?
frivoly's a toothless fairy
maybe one day i'll be wary
of having so much common sense.
i'll grow real old & dye my hair blue
just because i want to.
maybe partly for a laugh.
then you get drunk and tell stories to your grown grandchildren
like your mother used to do...ha ha. good night.
come back soon.
holy crap, i just have to add that i was just sitting here writing this, then when i went to hit publish post, it lost the page, i hit the back button and it had been cleared. somehow i got it back. jeez.
Friday, November 30, 2007
1,2,3, then i'm done!
okay, so I really don't have much time today to chat...actually, this is the only "chatting" I do. Could be partially because I prefer to do the chatting. Could also be that computer chat rooms are full of some of the most ignorant people in the world. I've gone in a few a couple years ago. This is the gist of it-
me- hello
person 1- hello me
person 2- hello me, age?
person 3- 19-f-boston (okay, you'll actually find these about every other post, but let's get on with it.)
person 2- person 3, do you have a pics?
person 4- that's so sad, sally.
sally- yep, we done lost all we had in that fire! even momma and her drunk ass disabled boyfriend burnt up. thank the lord Jesus and president Bush my momma's cat lived. He lost a wee little cat leg, but he's doing better. I just need to get some money to pay the vet bills. Maybe I can go on Craigslist and put a note out for some these rich folk to help me out.
person 4- Craigslist? Isn't that where people go to buy used furniture?
sally - sometimes. I heard it's all rich folk buying that used junk. You know how cheap they can be.
me- craigslist is a great place if you're interested in a plaid sofa. I think there's three on there right now.
sally- I prefer flowers on my sofa.
person 5- anybody got hanna montana tickets?
me - person 5, does you're mother know you're in a chat room?
person 5- f* you, I'm a 41 year old man (this guy probably lives with his mother. And whenever I think of chat rooms, I think of some nasty old guy sitting in his underpants...)
that's probably why I don't go in chat rooms. I go to you instead. I can't say I'm guilty of sitting in my underpants, but I am wearing some aqua crocs. That's probably equally offensive to somebody out there. So I'm sitting here just trying to summarize what I've been up to.
1. Mailed out another manuscript. (Wish me luck!)
2. went to the grocery store. bought some egg nog, organic milk, a box of those little oranges the kids like, three packs of chicken, cherry tomatoes, bananas, tidy cat, a couple tins of those blue diamond Wasabi & Soy almonds...not in that order. Because the little oranges were actually closer to the bananas, and I'm practicing restraint not putting the food in order by aisles. (I do that when I unload the buggy too)
3. Has anybody tried the wasabi almonds? unbelievable. I'm telling you, a can of wasabi nuts and a nice glass of wine, there's supper! Mmmm.
4. Okay, I'm really getting off topic. I drive a long way to get the kids in school now. What have I seen lately on the way? Today, buzzards. I drive past one of Steven's friends on the way & noticed D. got his own mailbox. He must not want his parents reading his porn. (If you knew this person, you'd understand?) I noticed the Lancelot plaque was not on the Lance place anymore. I wish I could accidentally drive up that driveway just to see what the house looks like, then drive back down. (I think I'd better not.)
I saw a guy picking his kid up in the car rider line on a riding lawnmower...shirtless. Has anybody seen that movie Idiocricy? Hmmm. You may have to live next to my previous neighbor to find that film funny. I don't know.
We went out of town for thanksgiving. On the way back we stopped in the REI store, and Naomi lost her tinkerbell purse.
"All my pokemon cards were in there! We have to find it!" crying..."I traded for those cards!!!" It was a rough day. We've never found the purse. She tells me if some boy found it he'd never turn it in. "I had the best pokemon cards in there." She informed me her watermelon lipsmacker was lost as well. This is a tragedy, indeed.
I watched Iconoclasts with Norman Lear & Howard Schultz. (Love that show)
So now here I am, at the end of this thing, and I guess I'm just writing to check in. Nothing of interest has happened in the past month or so.
I wish I had something cool and exciting to tell you, but I'm of the opinion that sometimes you have to be thankful for having nothing at all to talk about.
For instance, I'm thankful my children are healthy.
Or, I'm thankful my children are healthy and they don't have headlice.
And then you just try to make the details even more minute until it's something like,
'I'm thankful I got no annoying fundamentalist emails' or 'I'm thankful I still have that one Turner Field 1997 braves budweiser glass from when I won the pair of them playing movie trivia at the chicken wing place, although Steven flew a spoon across the kitchen aiming for the sink and it shattered the matching one...' (Okay, that's kind of on the border.)
& I'm thankful for you! Happy Holidays, yt
me- hello
person 1- hello me
person 2- hello me, age?
person 3- 19-f-boston (okay, you'll actually find these about every other post, but let's get on with it.)
person 2- person 3, do you have a pics?
person 4- that's so sad, sally.
sally- yep, we done lost all we had in that fire! even momma and her drunk ass disabled boyfriend burnt up. thank the lord Jesus and president Bush my momma's cat lived. He lost a wee little cat leg, but he's doing better. I just need to get some money to pay the vet bills. Maybe I can go on Craigslist and put a note out for some these rich folk to help me out.
person 4- Craigslist? Isn't that where people go to buy used furniture?
sally - sometimes. I heard it's all rich folk buying that used junk. You know how cheap they can be.
me- craigslist is a great place if you're interested in a plaid sofa. I think there's three on there right now.
sally- I prefer flowers on my sofa.
person 5- anybody got hanna montana tickets?
me - person 5, does you're mother know you're in a chat room?
person 5- f* you, I'm a 41 year old man (this guy probably lives with his mother. And whenever I think of chat rooms, I think of some nasty old guy sitting in his underpants...)
that's probably why I don't go in chat rooms. I go to you instead. I can't say I'm guilty of sitting in my underpants, but I am wearing some aqua crocs. That's probably equally offensive to somebody out there. So I'm sitting here just trying to summarize what I've been up to.
1. Mailed out another manuscript. (Wish me luck!)
2. went to the grocery store. bought some egg nog, organic milk, a box of those little oranges the kids like, three packs of chicken, cherry tomatoes, bananas, tidy cat, a couple tins of those blue diamond Wasabi & Soy almonds...not in that order. Because the little oranges were actually closer to the bananas, and I'm practicing restraint not putting the food in order by aisles. (I do that when I unload the buggy too)
3. Has anybody tried the wasabi almonds? unbelievable. I'm telling you, a can of wasabi nuts and a nice glass of wine, there's supper! Mmmm.
4. Okay, I'm really getting off topic. I drive a long way to get the kids in school now. What have I seen lately on the way? Today, buzzards. I drive past one of Steven's friends on the way & noticed D. got his own mailbox. He must not want his parents reading his porn. (If you knew this person, you'd understand?) I noticed the Lancelot plaque was not on the Lance place anymore. I wish I could accidentally drive up that driveway just to see what the house looks like, then drive back down. (I think I'd better not.)
I saw a guy picking his kid up in the car rider line on a riding lawnmower...shirtless. Has anybody seen that movie Idiocricy? Hmmm. You may have to live next to my previous neighbor to find that film funny. I don't know.
We went out of town for thanksgiving. On the way back we stopped in the REI store, and Naomi lost her tinkerbell purse.
"All my pokemon cards were in there! We have to find it!" crying..."I traded for those cards!!!" It was a rough day. We've never found the purse. She tells me if some boy found it he'd never turn it in. "I had the best pokemon cards in there." She informed me her watermelon lipsmacker was lost as well. This is a tragedy, indeed.
I watched Iconoclasts with Norman Lear & Howard Schultz. (Love that show)
So now here I am, at the end of this thing, and I guess I'm just writing to check in. Nothing of interest has happened in the past month or so.
I wish I had something cool and exciting to tell you, but I'm of the opinion that sometimes you have to be thankful for having nothing at all to talk about.
For instance, I'm thankful my children are healthy.
Or, I'm thankful my children are healthy and they don't have headlice.
And then you just try to make the details even more minute until it's something like,
'I'm thankful I got no annoying fundamentalist emails' or 'I'm thankful I still have that one Turner Field 1997 braves budweiser glass from when I won the pair of them playing movie trivia at the chicken wing place, although Steven flew a spoon across the kitchen aiming for the sink and it shattered the matching one...' (Okay, that's kind of on the border.)
& I'm thankful for you! Happy Holidays, yt
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
hello again!
I'm sitting here with my slice of ezekiel bread with cream cheese. Whipped cream cheese, whipped with air to taste like air...(I really recommend you go old school with your cream cheese, friends).
See me?
See me?
I'm human electricity
humming glowing god power.
At 7, you see fairies.
At 17, possibilities.
27, 37, you only see hands on the clock,
tick tocking too slow, then too fast,
At 47, maybe you'll wonder
why you spent so much damn time
watching the hands of time.
See me?
Wake up now & see me.
I'm human electricity!
Find your outlet & plug yourself in.
-kat lee, spur of the moment. now I got to get back to that clock! lol. love ya.
See me?
See me?
I'm human electricity
humming glowing god power.
At 7, you see fairies.
At 17, possibilities.
27, 37, you only see hands on the clock,
tick tocking too slow, then too fast,
At 47, maybe you'll wonder
why you spent so much damn time
watching the hands of time.
See me?
Wake up now & see me.
I'm human electricity!
Find your outlet & plug yourself in.
-kat lee, spur of the moment. now I got to get back to that clock! lol. love ya.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
If you aren't happy with less, ...
If you aren't happy with less, you won't be happy with more. That's what the little church sign said when I was riding past the other day. Or wait...maybe it said "If you aren't happy now..." I don't remember. I was loading my dishwasher in the new house & it came to me; Now I have more. Not that I was unhappy with the old place- let's face it, who will I have to talk about now that Old Tom & Taterbug are out of the picture? Oh, yeah...
The new neighbor sent over some cake to welcome us to the neighborhood. It was some sort of pineapple angel food cake, homemade I'm sure. She sent over cake & admired our chickens. That's right, we have chickens. Steven's brother sent over his worst two roosters, because they kept nesting & leaving excrement on his ladders, along with two hens, each with a baby in tow.
I promptly named the roosters, one Clint Eastwood & the other Bubba. I must have had a psychic inclination for not naming the hens. The day after we let the last hen out, they jumped into our neighbors dog pen, and it just goes downhill from there. Bubba & one hen flew back over. Clint Eastwood flew over the two story garage next door and perched on their roof to excercise his lungs for the night.
And here we are back at 'the neighbor brings us some cake.' Admires our chickens, several of which are lost to us...then mentions that she has some people coming to visit and could they park their RV in our driveway. It's hard to say no when you have a mouth full of 'welcome to the neighborhood' cake. Of course you can park your RV there!
Today I come home and this semi-truck sized RV is parked along the road directly in front of our house. Hmm.
God is good. (my new mantra...whenever I think about the real crap going on, I'm trying to train my mind to say, "God is good." I'll let you know how it works out.)
The house itself is more. It's a 70's split level, complete & original with blue toilets and orange shag carpet. Pink wallpaper in the kitchen (though my realtor corrected me, it's actually mauve. Mauve just means old raggedy pink in my mind. ) Soon the mauve will come down, along with the navy paper covered in quails in the dining room & living room, the dark paneled den, all of it will make way to something different & exciting. My mind is thrilled with the project of finding my creativity and making comfort out of something not so obvious to repair.
I'll miss the little greasy handprint on the wall near the window, one I could never bring myself to clean or paint over. The growth chart I carved into the door trim of the girls every little half inch at a time. I'll even miss seeing the game lights and hearing the high school band of my alma mater playing on football nights from the backyard. I already miss my washer & dryer- (in between at the moment.) yikes!
Even so, I'm really happy with the house. It is technically 'more...' Does that mean the saying isn't true? No. Who says I wasn't happy at the old place? Me? I wonder, Do I really need to convince myself that I was unhappy in one place to justify being happy in another? I think people have the right to say things irritate them from time to time but that doesn't mean they are unhappy. Ten minutes of growing horns on your head and growling like a badass bear doesn't make someone unhappy. I guess it makes them normal? (I hope so.)
I started cooking a pot of beans at noon today, cooked em all day, thinking I'd surprise Steven. Along he comes with a bag from the El Rayos, surprising me instead. Love is surprise guacamole :)
I've really missed you all! I'm going to resume my blog in between wallpaper removal & looking for all the lost stuff from the move. I wish you all every happiness!
It's so cool to have a friend like you. yt, kat
The new neighbor sent over some cake to welcome us to the neighborhood. It was some sort of pineapple angel food cake, homemade I'm sure. She sent over cake & admired our chickens. That's right, we have chickens. Steven's brother sent over his worst two roosters, because they kept nesting & leaving excrement on his ladders, along with two hens, each with a baby in tow.
I promptly named the roosters, one Clint Eastwood & the other Bubba. I must have had a psychic inclination for not naming the hens. The day after we let the last hen out, they jumped into our neighbors dog pen, and it just goes downhill from there. Bubba & one hen flew back over. Clint Eastwood flew over the two story garage next door and perched on their roof to excercise his lungs for the night.
And here we are back at 'the neighbor brings us some cake.' Admires our chickens, several of which are lost to us...then mentions that she has some people coming to visit and could they park their RV in our driveway. It's hard to say no when you have a mouth full of 'welcome to the neighborhood' cake. Of course you can park your RV there!
Today I come home and this semi-truck sized RV is parked along the road directly in front of our house. Hmm.
God is good. (my new mantra...whenever I think about the real crap going on, I'm trying to train my mind to say, "God is good." I'll let you know how it works out.)
The house itself is more. It's a 70's split level, complete & original with blue toilets and orange shag carpet. Pink wallpaper in the kitchen (though my realtor corrected me, it's actually mauve. Mauve just means old raggedy pink in my mind. ) Soon the mauve will come down, along with the navy paper covered in quails in the dining room & living room, the dark paneled den, all of it will make way to something different & exciting. My mind is thrilled with the project of finding my creativity and making comfort out of something not so obvious to repair.
I'll miss the little greasy handprint on the wall near the window, one I could never bring myself to clean or paint over. The growth chart I carved into the door trim of the girls every little half inch at a time. I'll even miss seeing the game lights and hearing the high school band of my alma mater playing on football nights from the backyard. I already miss my washer & dryer- (in between at the moment.) yikes!
Even so, I'm really happy with the house. It is technically 'more...' Does that mean the saying isn't true? No. Who says I wasn't happy at the old place? Me? I wonder, Do I really need to convince myself that I was unhappy in one place to justify being happy in another? I think people have the right to say things irritate them from time to time but that doesn't mean they are unhappy. Ten minutes of growing horns on your head and growling like a badass bear doesn't make someone unhappy. I guess it makes them normal? (I hope so.)
I started cooking a pot of beans at noon today, cooked em all day, thinking I'd surprise Steven. Along he comes with a bag from the El Rayos, surprising me instead. Love is surprise guacamole :)
I've really missed you all! I'm going to resume my blog in between wallpaper removal & looking for all the lost stuff from the move. I wish you all every happiness!
It's so cool to have a friend like you. yt, kat
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Change is good! (for some...)
Yikes.
So we have workers in the house again. It's a bit frustrating...they're working on the bathroom, and we've been making jokes all week about the toilet being removed, and how if someone looks in the hole, and someone uses the other toilet, you can see their "waste" passing by. (True. Sad, but true.)
So the workers are within a foot or two from the john hole, and I feel like I need to piss. And I made sure to pee before they got here...so really it's like, "I need to piss because I'm trying not to have to." Hmmm. If you've stumbled here by accident and are in search of some sort of profound thought, you may be in the wrong place.
Our home is for sale. Again. Cross your fingers that we sell & find our way the next place. If it's meant to be, it'll turn out. In the meantime, realtors and workers will be joining me during the day. Great!
I feel like I should be doing something productive. Like folding or mopping. But not like watching the sundance documentary on the woman who wrote The Story of O.
I have a cold. My nose ran all night- I woke up this morning and it was completely clogged, crusted over like a sloppy kid. I lugged my heavy head out to take my kids to school, them telling me to hurry for the good breakfast. (The school has a hot breakfast line and a cold one, Early you get hot cinnamon rolls and the likes, late, you get corn flakes...)
On the way home the radio guy said the first case of West Nile in Georgia for the year had been reported in Atlanta. A man went in complaining of aches, fever, etc. Me too, I thought. It flashed through my mind that I, as well, have West Nile. Of course.
Then I came home and ate some cheerios. I watched a few minutes of a documentary til the guys came, then I turned the tv off so I looked less slobbish. I think I'm going to put my shoes on and run on the mill for a while. Maybe all the jarring will shake my brain of the fog I'm in.
Take care :)
So we have workers in the house again. It's a bit frustrating...they're working on the bathroom, and we've been making jokes all week about the toilet being removed, and how if someone looks in the hole, and someone uses the other toilet, you can see their "waste" passing by. (True. Sad, but true.)
So the workers are within a foot or two from the john hole, and I feel like I need to piss. And I made sure to pee before they got here...so really it's like, "I need to piss because I'm trying not to have to." Hmmm. If you've stumbled here by accident and are in search of some sort of profound thought, you may be in the wrong place.
Our home is for sale. Again. Cross your fingers that we sell & find our way the next place. If it's meant to be, it'll turn out. In the meantime, realtors and workers will be joining me during the day. Great!
I feel like I should be doing something productive. Like folding or mopping. But not like watching the sundance documentary on the woman who wrote The Story of O.
I have a cold. My nose ran all night- I woke up this morning and it was completely clogged, crusted over like a sloppy kid. I lugged my heavy head out to take my kids to school, them telling me to hurry for the good breakfast. (The school has a hot breakfast line and a cold one, Early you get hot cinnamon rolls and the likes, late, you get corn flakes...)
On the way home the radio guy said the first case of West Nile in Georgia for the year had been reported in Atlanta. A man went in complaining of aches, fever, etc. Me too, I thought. It flashed through my mind that I, as well, have West Nile. Of course.
Then I came home and ate some cheerios. I watched a few minutes of a documentary til the guys came, then I turned the tv off so I looked less slobbish. I think I'm going to put my shoes on and run on the mill for a while. Maybe all the jarring will shake my brain of the fog I'm in.
Take care :)
Friday, August 17, 2007
oranges
Hello! So sorry I was out- hmmm, I took two months off, didn't I? As much as I'd like to say we flew to Hawaii and spent the summer basking in pineapple juice, not so!
Nope. The city pool is about as close as we got this year, but we did go there every day. (Kid's swim classes).
I'm not really in a talkative mood, but I thought if I wrote a few sentences it would get me back to my blogging.
Who am I?
Okay, I don't really have time to answer that one...or maybe it's just that I'm so simple & uncomplicated that there is no real huge difference between me & you. I lean towards the latter, for sure.
I like the way my hands smell after I peel oranges.
& white leather furniture. (not the pillowy kind, but buttons are okay. There's a word for that, when there's little buttons all over the furniture, but I can't think of it. Maybe you know?)
Thanks for stopping in :) kat
Nope. The city pool is about as close as we got this year, but we did go there every day. (Kid's swim classes).
I'm not really in a talkative mood, but I thought if I wrote a few sentences it would get me back to my blogging.
Who am I?
Okay, I don't really have time to answer that one...or maybe it's just that I'm so simple & uncomplicated that there is no real huge difference between me & you. I lean towards the latter, for sure.
I like the way my hands smell after I peel oranges.
& white leather furniture. (not the pillowy kind, but buttons are okay. There's a word for that, when there's little buttons all over the furniture, but I can't think of it. Maybe you know?)
Thanks for stopping in :) kat
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