I have a great desire to chat with you gentle reader, despite the fact that I really have nothing important to say. So I’m going to pretend we’re on a porch swing somewhere relaxing and exchanging idle thoughts. By the way, I am imagining you are wearing a cute pair of espadrilles. Because in my head you are you are casual, yet subtly classy. Plus I just like the word ‘espadrilles.’ Additionally let me tell you right now that those pants you are wearing make your butt look really skinny.
Now let us proceed with our chat.
Yesterday we officially restarted the school year much against my offspring’s will. The children attempted to rebel against my supreme authority, but I know how to get them in a good chokehold and shove knowledge directly into their skulls if need be, so eventually they ceased with their incessant whining and got with the program. However, I was sympathetic to their plight (I hated saying good-bye to vacation as well) so we eased into our studies. A little math review, a bite-sized amount of grammar, some piano practice, some reading, and call it good.
I think the easing approach is the best. I also use it in the swimming pool as I slowly inch my way into the freezing water. Some people adhere to the ‘jump in and get it over with approach.’ I call those people sadly misguided. My heart’s already pounding from having to wear a swimsuit in public, it doesn’t need the added shock of jumping into a frigid pool. If I did I’d probably have a heart attack and die which would be unpleasant for everyone. Who wants a dead body clad in a floral swimming suit floating around?
I ease into most things in my life. I’m not a band-aid ripper offer. I leave the band-aid on until it falls off in the shower on it’s own. No drama, no pain, no fuss. So what if it can take a week for the adhesive to weaken sufficiently? I’ve got time.
I’m quite put out by the weather here in Indiana. Where is the snow? The only thing that can get me through the post-Christmas letdown is a good snow with lots of sledding. However, today my kids played outside in sweatshirts! I’m terribly vexed about the whole thing.
Of course if it was snowing, we couldn’t chat out here on my fictitious porch swing and you wouldn’t be wearing such cute shoes. So I’m just going to say, “Silver lining,” and move on.
I’m thinking of getting a new purse with some of my Christmas money. I’m really drawn to some of those nice chunky ones with the more exotic colors, but I’m not sure I can sufficiently rock that look. I’m feeling a little old. This year I’m going to be thirty-nine. That’s almost forty, which used to seem so senior citizenish to me when I was in my twenties.
Seriously, even ten years ago I imagined that when I reached forty I’d be worried about cholesterol, wearing bifocals, and sedately doing the crossword puzzle on Sunday mornings instead of trying to sneak in a little quality naked time with my husband.
I was so wrong. Now forty doesn’t seem that old at all. But it might not be young enough to wear that purse with confidence. Advise me, gentle reader, advise me.
How are you doing with this whole election year hoopla? Yeah, me too. The name calling and back-biting that goes on in politics makes me sick to my stomach. And why, for the love of all things holy and good, does it take SO EVERLASTINGLY LONG? Honestly, most of us have made up our minds long ago. Let’s just have all the primaries and caucuses in a three month period and call it good.
(Whenever I say the word ‘caucus’ I immediate channel Tim Gunn. This is the consequence of watching ten Project Runway episodes in a row over Christmas vacation. So right now in my head I’m telling my favorite Republican nominee “Make it work!” in a dapper and refined voice. Oh Tim Gunn I *heart* you so freaking much. Why don’t you run for president?)
So anything new with you? It’s your turn to randomly vent, stream of conscious style.