Did you ever have one of those weeks where you could manage just one partial thought at a time? Okay, that makes me feel that I’m among friends. Here’s what I mean:
- Any Scrivener users out there? I don’t know that I’m IT literate enough to get my money’s worth out, but so far - so good. It’s nice to see chapters lined up so neatly in the binder.
- I still love Loretta Lynn’s Van Lear Rose cd.
- My daughter has a new boyfriend. We like him. She likes him. Our dog LOVES him. Seriously enthralled. The last time the boyfriend came over, the dog took her foreleg and wrapped it around the boy’s leg to pull him closer. I have never seen her do that before. I suppose when the inevitable break-up comes, I will have to console my daughter and my dog.
- BEST medical explanation ever: ovaries your age are like someone who has submitted the paperwork for retirement. Some days there are four hour lunches, some days she won’t even bother to go to work, and then some days she gets worried about her legacy and she’ll decide to work overtime.
- I really do not remember there being so much drama in my high school as exists in my daughter’s school. Do you suppose it’s the constant ability to text and IM and those other immediate access means that are to blame?
- My husband strongly suggested to our 7th grade son that he collect all the hoodies he has loaned to some very pretty girls. It took him two arms to carry the clothing home.
- Apparently, the more perfume the hoodies arrive home wearing, the better.
- My daughter’s choir is working on music from the 60’s. I can so clearly remember being in the basement of our home and listening to Age of Aquarius on a transistor radio.
- Why is it so hard for a boy to admit he punched his brother - especially when the brother is crying and holding a very blood-shot eye? No, I'm just not buying the explanation that the younger brother punched himself in the eye. Then again, stranger things have happened.
- And finally, drove my those same two youngest boys to school this morning and was appalled at someone's breath. I gave a lengthy lecture on the evils of not brushing and pushed breath mints their direction as they remained mute. When we got to the school, my 5th grader said, "Just so you feel better: I DID brush this morning, but I also was farting all the way to school." - I'm pretty sure that someday his wife will blame this type of behavior on me.
Now to improve my mood, I'm going to see the most gracious hostess in town - or at least in the Midwest.