Is it cold where you are?
Too hot where you are?
Hazy?
My husband's re-inlistment where it is a little dusty....(his photos-- thank you Hubby)
I love my country.
You will regularly hear me raving about England (and how I 'll go kicking and screaming when the Air Force tells me I have to leave--I can't possibly see and do it all in the little time I have over here) but you need to know that I love the United States of America.
My dad was a veteran of the Korean War and afterwards, a member of the VFW.
He wore his Army uniform proudly in parades down our tiny little Main Street.
I was taught (from when I was about 3)
to hold my hand over my heart and to stand
when a flag went by.
We're getting in a lot of pool time.
If you can call swimming around 9pm "a lot of pool time",
but that's when the wasps go to bed so that's when we swim.
It's usually rushed.
A kid on his way to bed will say, "Can we swim really quick?"
The beginning of the end.
The end of sleeping diagonally in the bed-- oh, who am I kidding, with two children in my bed, I have NOT had it to myself enough days to sleep diagonally.
The end of worry-free towel use (the purple towel is MINE).
The end of chick flicks available at all times (*sniff* bye bye Mr. Darcy)
The end of eating what I want when I want--again, who am I kidding? I've taken to eating in the pantry just to keep the vultures away (what ten extra pounds? I don't know what you're referring to!).
The end of being the ONLY one who seems to notice when there's a used diaper on the floor...
...of being the only one who recognizes when milk jugs bounce around your feet, the recycling might need to go out.
...of cooking only to be met with "I don't like that".
Yes, A2 IS wearing his pajamas, we started driving in the middle of the night to get to our plane.
it was magical.
Like seeing this little guy have the time of his life... up to the point where we broke him.
And eating the best food I have ever
... I read a post somewhere that kick starts my memory, creativity
or touches me in a way that reminds me why we're all out here.
One of the recent "Oh, I'm so glad I read this!" posts was over at (surprise) (again) Woman in a Window' s place, with Reverential Dwarf.
It gave me reason to reflect on the people who have passed through my life, maybe just briefly, but who really need to be credited with a little of what makes me, me.
The most predominate memory for me today is of the woman who would let me sit at the bar in that small desert town that was baking in the sun (before laws said 6 year-old children couldn't sit at the bar) eating her maraschino cherries (regardless of the formaldehyde stories attached to their sticky wonderfulness) while my dad drank icy cold Budweiser from a can.
The inside of her home was orange. The brightest orange walls you ever saw and I was enraptured by the boldness. I had never seen such a color anywhere other than in an LA diner where we quickly inhaled our greasy eggs and bacon before retrieving my runaway sister from the juvey detention center. I use bold colors on my walls now.
My first spanish words were spoken in her home. "Uno Blanco Lobo" was her dog's name (and I'm pretty sure the adjective was in the wrong place, but who am I to say what someone names their dog?).
Her name was Neva and she made up one part of the timeline that was my childhood-- her children made up many more (it was her son, Larry who crushed the Christmas "Jolly Elf" myth and ruined the surprise of a bicycle waiting under the tree).
Ok look. At the risk of sounding like Sad Sack, I'm just going to say it.
I am not a big pity party waiting for a place to happen.
I actually pride myself on being pretty good at keeping it fun and light (be quiet husband), but for some reason
again,
I was hugely rejected.
It happened yesterday and here we are 24 hours later and I still can't shake it.
The poor Hubby had to talk me down from the ledge on a dodgy ichat connection at 1 am.
At a recent school gathering, the subject of New Moon came up-- with smiles and laughter--
from the woman I had to beg to read Twilight. I actually bought TWO copies of the book and passed both out among a particular group of friends to convince them to read it. They all loved it. She told me she was counting down to the movie-- she was going to see it in London.
Silly Me: "Oh! I want to go!!" (That brash American trait where I will invite myself when it includes Twilight)
Thoughtless Her: "Oh, I'm sorry, you can't, it's a private party". (laughter, smile smile)
Silly Me thinking she was being hilarious, or maybe a little serious because she had this special "date" booked with her teen daughter: I'm the one who convinced you to read it and your snubbing me! (Ha, ha, I am so funny)
Unkind Her: "Well we have had this group lined up for ages!" (smile laugh smile --Oh, did i just hurt your feelings? Never mind, the sun is shining, smile smile)
Me: "Oh. I. see."
I began to excuse myself to go get refreshments for my boys. She sort of caught on that maybe what she had just done was a little tactless and began saying, "Well, you can come on then if you really want to come".
Not feeling quite so silly now Me: "No, really-- thank you. I had actually considered flying to the states to see it with friends before I found out it was being released here on the same day "(real friends, I'm thinking, and no, I didn't coat it with sarcasm).
So, I'm hurt.
Am I over sensitive?
I saw this as an "in your face, you don't really matter to us" incident.
I have some good people who have done some wonderful, thoughtful things for my family, so why am I dwelling on this?
Do you suppose I'm just suffering post-cookie-baking-in-the-middle-of-the-night disorder?
It's a half an hour after bedtime.
The kids are all bathed and even though I know there is still stirring, it's my time.
MY time.
Then I hear it. The rustling of a little mouse somewhere she shouldn't be, I'm sure.
...but somebody has to, right?
This goes along with the slogan, "Don't hate me because... (I live a GORGEOUS country)".
Posts
All Comments
