I'm not Madeline Kahn but I often think about this clip when I'm thinking about just how dang blasted tired I all the stinkin' time.
Madeline Kahn in "Blazing Saddles" - "I'm Tired"
Really, just really, does it have to be like this?
I want to be a real eBay seller, one of those that work 8 hours a day and make real money at the gig. I make money here and there but I'm overflowing with stuff to sell and overflowing with dreary eyes, lack of focus and a need to just take a big ol' nap.
Sometimes I find myself just staring at the items and having no energy to go any farther. Maybe if I could find ways to make it easier, like picking up an item at a garage sale, paying my shiny quarter to the seller and then having it miraculously sold (for hundreds, of course) and shipped.
I don't see what that's such a difficult concept. Time space continuum step aside for the new and improved sell-n-out!
The best of intentions are always running rampant as I lay in bed in the morning, planning out my day. You'd think that I would realize by now that most of my plans will go awry by 9:30 or sometimes as late as 11. Fact is, laundry, dinner prep, picking up around the house, vacuuming (when necessary), arranging play dates and figuring out what to eat PLUS getting things listed on eBay never ever fits into a 2 hour time frame.
This butt kicking disease has been my nemesis for 9.5 years now. You'd think I'd know that, duh, not everything is going to get done. I'm either eternally optimistic or drastically delusional. I think the second one is at play here.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Happy Father's Day To My Dad!
My dad and I don't have one of those huggy and kissy relationships. The first dance at my wedding was to "Don't Stop" by Fleetwood Mac. We have always had a fun relationship with similar taste in music and movies. We are very open and honest and aren't embarrassed by anything. Though it may seem an awkward choice, I bought my dad a Guns N Roses CD a few years back.
When I was in high school I used to bowl a lot. We used to travel out of state for bowling tournaments. We would drive listening to Pearl Jam or more Fleetwood Mac. We must have talked and talked about everything and anything but yet nothing in particular comes to mind, just the presence, the experience, the journey.
I always had a good relationship with my parents. I didn't go through all the teenage bull that so many kids do. We would sit and watch TV, listen to music, and chit-chat, again about nothing in particular that I remember though I remember clearly that no questions were off-limits. I think that has made me the type of mom I am today.
Daddy's little princess was not something I would ever call myself. When my dad was in a bad mood, though, I was always sent in. Somehow, he was never mad around me. I could defuse his fuse. I was more like daddy's little tomboy, which suits me just fine.
Princesses don't play HORSE in the driveway, go camping, play in the dirt, chop their hair off to keep from having to brush it much, wear pants almost exclusively and own a closet full of t-shirts. Tomboys don't own curling irons, hair dryers and makeup.
This tomboy is a different sort of daddy's girl. I don't think he would have it any other way, either. Love you, dad!
When I was in high school I used to bowl a lot. We used to travel out of state for bowling tournaments. We would drive listening to Pearl Jam or more Fleetwood Mac. We must have talked and talked about everything and anything but yet nothing in particular comes to mind, just the presence, the experience, the journey.
I always had a good relationship with my parents. I didn't go through all the teenage bull that so many kids do. We would sit and watch TV, listen to music, and chit-chat, again about nothing in particular that I remember though I remember clearly that no questions were off-limits. I think that has made me the type of mom I am today.
Daddy's little princess was not something I would ever call myself. When my dad was in a bad mood, though, I was always sent in. Somehow, he was never mad around me. I could defuse his fuse. I was more like daddy's little tomboy, which suits me just fine.
Princesses don't play HORSE in the driveway, go camping, play in the dirt, chop their hair off to keep from having to brush it much, wear pants almost exclusively and own a closet full of t-shirts. Tomboys don't own curling irons, hair dryers and makeup.
This tomboy is a different sort of daddy's girl. I don't think he would have it any other way, either. Love you, dad!
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
3, 3*, 3*, 3, 3
5th grade year in review:
I sorted a pile of Anna's schoolwork for the year into a big binder like I have for all the years before. It's fun to go back and look at what she has learned and, especially, her writing and drawings.
She's a very good student, with all 3's and 3*'s on her report card (on a 1-3 scale). Her writings are filled with flowery language, written just like she speaks. When I read the things she has written, I can hear her voice, the inflections, the drama, the laughter and the quietness.
Sitting with smiles ebbing and flowing among all the giggles and face palming groans, I see the drawing of a classmate on the top of Mount Everest (labelled, of course) and again on the side in a hot air balloon also labelled "never ending" since she said she was "mad at him that day". I guess she thought it would be best if he just flew away. The mountain and balloon are scaling the side of the paper and a thin, green, shaded in line at the bottom of the page is labelled "ground". There is a pie with a pretty face, girls with fancy hair, story problems that are filled with the names of friends and their adventures or misadventures as it sometimes is.
It's hard to believe that elementary school is over. I remind myself that 6th grade was still elementary school back when I was her age. On the other hand, I am also reminded that we started school when we were younger back then and I was also in middle school at her age.
Things change through the years but the evolution of self is fascinating. I have found every stage of life to have its own unique sets of ups and downs and, more notably, joys and triumphs. For 11 years I have gotten to be the mom of a smart, funny, unique child that has a perfect sense of who she is. What a blessing!
Here's to putting elementary school behind (with veiled sadness) and marching towards the next new adventure.
I sorted a pile of Anna's schoolwork for the year into a big binder like I have for all the years before. It's fun to go back and look at what she has learned and, especially, her writing and drawings.
She's a very good student, with all 3's and 3*'s on her report card (on a 1-3 scale). Her writings are filled with flowery language, written just like she speaks. When I read the things she has written, I can hear her voice, the inflections, the drama, the laughter and the quietness.
Sitting with smiles ebbing and flowing among all the giggles and face palming groans, I see the drawing of a classmate on the top of Mount Everest (labelled, of course) and again on the side in a hot air balloon also labelled "never ending" since she said she was "mad at him that day". I guess she thought it would be best if he just flew away. The mountain and balloon are scaling the side of the paper and a thin, green, shaded in line at the bottom of the page is labelled "ground". There is a pie with a pretty face, girls with fancy hair, story problems that are filled with the names of friends and their adventures or misadventures as it sometimes is.
It's hard to believe that elementary school is over. I remind myself that 6th grade was still elementary school back when I was her age. On the other hand, I am also reminded that we started school when we were younger back then and I was also in middle school at her age.
Things change through the years but the evolution of self is fascinating. I have found every stage of life to have its own unique sets of ups and downs and, more notably, joys and triumphs. For 11 years I have gotten to be the mom of a smart, funny, unique child that has a perfect sense of who she is. What a blessing!
Here's to putting elementary school behind (with veiled sadness) and marching towards the next new adventure.
Monday, June 3, 2013
20 Year Reunion?!
It's official. I've reached that 20 year post high school graduate mark. I don't know how that's possible. Most days I don't feel much like an adult at all. I mean, I handle the housework and the bills but I don't really feel grown up. It's a family trait, I think.
It's definitely not a "you're only as old as you feel" situation. If that were the case, I'd feel beyond grown up and living in a retirement home. I'd fit right in except I think some of them might move faster than me at times.
Remembering back, and through all the years since, I never felt like I quite fit in. I wasn't a cheerleader, a jock, a debater, a student councilman, a class clown. I was an average student with decent grades but sort of blended into the background. I had a small group of friends that I'm still friends with but even they will agree, we were sort of outsiders. Don't get me wrong, I love my friends but as far as high school went, we stood out as much as the paint on the walls.
From where I stand, I still feel like that girl in school. People have lofty careers and live away from where we went to school (but I actually want to stay here). I'm still simple. I've been married for nearly 16 years. I have one daughter (wanted more but that's a story for another post) and live just five minutes from where I went to high school.
I'm strapped to this multiple sclerosis and all the BS that comes with that and so I'm a homebody with a degree I never got to use, a slew of mobility devices and the wardrobe that doesn't look like I even graduated high school yet. Most days I don't get out of my pajamas until noon and wear my hair in pigtails.
The idea of getting together is a fun one, though. It's not like I feel like I shouldn't go or that I won't fit it. After all, we went to high school for four years and though we had our little groups, that's what made up the whole of us. The class of 1993 doesn't exist completely without the sporty ones, the nerdy ones, the brainy ones, the wallflowers, the troublemakers.
We will exist as a group with our successes and failures, the great jobs, the unemployments, the thriving marriages and the failed ones, the hair losses, the weight gains, the happiness and pains that made us who we were then and what we've become.
This is who we are. It will be fun to see it all.
It's definitely not a "you're only as old as you feel" situation. If that were the case, I'd feel beyond grown up and living in a retirement home. I'd fit right in except I think some of them might move faster than me at times.
Remembering back, and through all the years since, I never felt like I quite fit in. I wasn't a cheerleader, a jock, a debater, a student councilman, a class clown. I was an average student with decent grades but sort of blended into the background. I had a small group of friends that I'm still friends with but even they will agree, we were sort of outsiders. Don't get me wrong, I love my friends but as far as high school went, we stood out as much as the paint on the walls.
From where I stand, I still feel like that girl in school. People have lofty careers and live away from where we went to school (but I actually want to stay here). I'm still simple. I've been married for nearly 16 years. I have one daughter (wanted more but that's a story for another post) and live just five minutes from where I went to high school.
I'm strapped to this multiple sclerosis and all the BS that comes with that and so I'm a homebody with a degree I never got to use, a slew of mobility devices and the wardrobe that doesn't look like I even graduated high school yet. Most days I don't get out of my pajamas until noon and wear my hair in pigtails.
The idea of getting together is a fun one, though. It's not like I feel like I shouldn't go or that I won't fit it. After all, we went to high school for four years and though we had our little groups, that's what made up the whole of us. The class of 1993 doesn't exist completely without the sporty ones, the nerdy ones, the brainy ones, the wallflowers, the troublemakers.
We will exist as a group with our successes and failures, the great jobs, the unemployments, the thriving marriages and the failed ones, the hair losses, the weight gains, the happiness and pains that made us who we were then and what we've become.
This is who we are. It will be fun to see it all.
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