After I got back from the last 5 mile run before Saturday's race, I flipped on the outside lights. Hair wrapped in a towel, boxer shorts and tank top a sportin', I shuffled across the front hallway only to be startled by zombies and a way too young fireman at my front door.
What the hell? Isn't it raining out? Isn't it fast approaching the 8:00 shut-this-thing-down-time? I had half a bag of Sour Patch Kids and 2 bars of dark chocolate in the pantry, candy-wise, to my name, and the dark chocolate is off limits. I'd grab that first if this place caught on fire. Is the term "Scrooge" being juxtaposed as I write this?
Liv and I - standing with my wet hair like a live mannequin on display - were communicating through makeshift sign language as if we were sweeping the house for intruders. This, in turn, eventually caused the pint-sized Kurt Russell and clan to give up on our candy-free abode. Thank goodness. And to think all I really wanted to do this Halloween was dress up like a cougar.
Tomorrow is November. Even though Fall officially started in September, I've only ever considered Fall to be here when it feels like it. So, welcome my favorite season. I feel you alright. It's been way too long. Your smell, your aura, your crisp breath of fresh air, and your ability to make me want to stay under the covers all morning until the piping fresh coffee hits my lips...
My little sister (as in the one who is four inches taller) text me earlier in the week and wanted to know what is on my Christmas list this year. What a loaded question, I thought. Asking me what I need makes me as silent as a Tibetan monk contemplating how he should style his hair.
"Well, I could use a dust buster."
"WTF, are you our mother? Give me something better than that."
I couldn't. I can't. I don't need anything. Well, other than wine. I could always use some Riesling.
Christmas came early for me this year anyway. Or maybe my surprise 40th present came a little late. Either way, it arrived and has been the best gift ever so far.
No more refraining, and no more trick-or-treaters dressed up like fireman walkin' in the cold (almost) November rain. Only cougars sitting in front of fires looking outside at the snow.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
parenthetically whimsical
Time. Where does it go? People often wonder the question aloud
flippantly. Sometimes the question is posed whimsically.
As with all things, the consideration I have on a topic
is pretty much (completely) dependent upon my mood (emotional state
and/or is Griffin House or AC/DC playing...).
On my drive back to the Fort from the D-train earlier today, in between lamenting over the Tribe's non-existence again in the ALC playoffs and someone slamming into my 2-month old car with a grocery cart full of ice picks, I began whimsically trying to locate the time. Am I seriously already 40? Is my baby girl really going to look at a college next week? Are my parents of the age that I used to think was like, a HUNDRED?
There was no complaining, only contemplation. Just thinking about where things stand, as they say. And after realizing in short order that I am simply thankful for life's current stance, I started reminiscing.
Great. Another one of these kind of posts, you ask all rightly so-ish? In my defense, YOU try and box it out with those little bastards inside my head who undeniably know sentimentality is my biggest weakness, yet refuse to become hard-hearted, indifferent, or god forbid, pragmatic.
When I care about something, or more accurately, someone, I can remember to a frightening extent all kinds of granular details. I can tell you what they were wearing on a particular day, a sentence they uttered under their breath when I was pretending not to listen, an email exchange, the weather on any given day we spent together, etc.
And so it was earlier this afternoon when I remembered “Chip” - (please) - a teddy bear Joe gave to Chels the day she got her wisdom teeth taken out and her entire, ginormous face looked exactly like a Chipmunk. (We grew up with an Alvin, so she went straight for originality).
I remembered Chip because Liv is getting her wisdom teeth extracted this Friday. Can’t wait. The only other time she’s been under general anesthesia was when she was in second grade and had her tonsils (and adenoids, but I refuse to use the clearly man-derived acronym abbreviation) removed. As my sweet baby girl was awakening, she flew into a fit of rage befitted for an angry, fire-breathing dragon protecting the castle’s virgin princess as she is moronically waiting for her stupid knight in that cliché of a freaking tower…wait, where was I going with this? Oh, right. I’m totally looking forward to it.
All of it. When the time is right. (Which is a good song by Griffin House.)
On my drive back to the Fort from the D-train earlier today, in between lamenting over the Tribe's non-existence again in the ALC playoffs and someone slamming into my 2-month old car with a grocery cart full of ice picks, I began whimsically trying to locate the time. Am I seriously already 40? Is my baby girl really going to look at a college next week? Are my parents of the age that I used to think was like, a HUNDRED?
There was no complaining, only contemplation. Just thinking about where things stand, as they say. And after realizing in short order that I am simply thankful for life's current stance, I started reminiscing.
Great. Another one of these kind of posts, you ask all rightly so-ish? In my defense, YOU try and box it out with those little bastards inside my head who undeniably know sentimentality is my biggest weakness, yet refuse to become hard-hearted, indifferent, or god forbid, pragmatic.
When I care about something, or more accurately, someone, I can remember to a frightening extent all kinds of granular details. I can tell you what they were wearing on a particular day, a sentence they uttered under their breath when I was pretending not to listen, an email exchange, the weather on any given day we spent together, etc.
And so it was earlier this afternoon when I remembered “Chip” - (please) - a teddy bear Joe gave to Chels the day she got her wisdom teeth taken out and her entire, ginormous face looked exactly like a Chipmunk. (We grew up with an Alvin, so she went straight for originality).
I remembered Chip because Liv is getting her wisdom teeth extracted this Friday. Can’t wait. The only other time she’s been under general anesthesia was when she was in second grade and had her tonsils (and adenoids, but I refuse to use the clearly man-derived acronym abbreviation) removed. As my sweet baby girl was awakening, she flew into a fit of rage befitted for an angry, fire-breathing dragon protecting the castle’s virgin princess as she is moronically waiting for her stupid knight in that cliché of a freaking tower…wait, where was I going with this? Oh, right. I’m totally looking forward to it.
All of it. When the time is right. (Which is a good song by Griffin House.)
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