Just kidding. I’m not going to wax poetic about anything. I actually am going to partake in a little verbal vomit. See? Vomit. It’s not a very poetic word. I should change the title of this post, but I don’t want to. Maybe I’ll be inspired as I write and maybe I will begin to wax poetic about life and it’s deeper meanings.
But probably not.
I really don’t have much to say these days. Probably because I’m old and my high falutent weekend in New Orleans has made me feel a bit like I got beat with a rubber mallet then tossed to the side like a rag doll. This mama isn’t used to seeing 2:00 am unless it’s to administer medicine to fevery babies or fill hungry tummies.
I’m tired.
Speaking of last weekend, I must say that there were moments when I looked around and thought What in the world am I doing here? I felt very…how shall I put this…midwest. I was surrounded by all of these interesting, funny, stylish, green, city folk and here I was, the minivan mom from the suburbs. I tell ya, I had to fight from saying things like, Well Golly Gee, or Aw shucks. I think I may have had an I declare or two in me, but I held back. And upon my return I had a strong urge to sell my car and start using public transit and to keep all the lights in the house turned off and check my carbon imprint (or is it my carbon print…or footprint?). But, well, shucks guys, that would make this suburban mama a little less comfortable so I think I’ll keep trucking along as I’m going in life.
‘Cause it’s swell.
Speaking of swell…um, I really don’t have anything else swell to say. I was looking for a transition. That was a poor effort. Did I mention I’m exhausted? Sloan told me yesterday that he no longer wants to be a policeman when he grows up, but he would like to be a shark trainer instead. When I informed him that he would have to be very brave because that’s a dangerous job he gave me the look that only a 7 year old going on14 can give. You know the one, right? It’s that look that says, Duh, Mom. What are you, like, some sort of midwest hick?
“I’ll start working with the sharks who are already trained. Then I will move on to their friends that need to be trained.”
Right. What was I thinking?
“Hey mom,” he went on. “You remember that time when I was a baby and I met that shark?”
“Um, no.”
“Yeah, remember? I was a little baby. It was my first time to Florida and I met a shark.”
“Sorry, bud. I don’t remember that at all.”
“Oh. Well…I might have made that up.”
Gee willikers, my kid is super neato.
I should get up and get moving. The dog is laying at the foot of my bed and I can hear her stomach growling quite fiercely. I had all these lofty goals to get up early and get a lot of work done (because I have a lot of work to do) but I had the migraine of the century last night and didn’t sleep much. Thank God for modern medicine, eh? I may have overdosed slightly but I knocked out the headache so I win. I offer my deepest apologies to my liver which is now working over time to rid my body of toxins.
So on that note, I offer you this:
May your day today be filled with joy, headache free and super duper swell.
The end.
p.s. I’m categorizing this post as random. That sounds about right, wouldn’t you say?
Sloan could be a dolphin trainer.
You vant to speak to ze dolphin, you speak to me. Vat happed to him, vat happened to me! Vy do you care about ze dolphim? Do you know him, does he call you at home, do you have a DORSEL FIN!
So true, JEremy…so true.
bwa ha ha ha ha ha…..I’m hugging you from a long distance. I’m surrounded by those types too sometimes. I’m just saying that if you live in WA and you don’t recycle…you’ll be shunned.