Stream of Unconsciousness

November 12, 2010

Because, well, I’m not really thinking all that hard. 🙂

  • Any man who would take the time to create a full-on, real life, complete with flames out the giant, central tail pipe, Batman car and wear a rubber Batman mask in public to the Veteran’s day parade deserves many, many, many pictures taken.   It was so coool!   Even cooler than the Nomad station wagon, fully restored, in a rich, berry jelly red.  Pictures will come.  I took 3,000.  Sorting will be fun.
  • I have two boys who tell me all day, most days, that I am beautiful, amazing, “best mom ever” and that they love me.  I know I should count my blessings but seriously, sometimes it gets old.   How retarded am I
  • My husband called me a billion dollar wife the other day, to keep in the same vein,  do you suppose that was just inflation talking?
  • My house smells like cinnamon rolls this morning.  Which is because I’m making some.  Not because I got one of those candles that just makes you crave one without the satisfaction of actually consuming one.   Which causes epic crankiness.   Satisfy the hunger.  Feed the cellulite.
  • A lady at bible study on Wednesday came up to me and, in an embarrassed tone,  apologized for her college age daughter’s behavior on her facebook page.   Like she was confessing to me or afraid I would judge or hate or think less of her because of a college girl’s behavior on a social networking site.   Apparently I’m on a pedestal of “leadership” since I’ve been leading worship and have been “recommended” for leadership…   I hate church heirarchy bullshit.   As though I’m too narrow minded to see the difference between a messy young believer and her mom.  Seriously.
  • I am married to a very, nearly perfect man.   This isn’t remotely as much fun as you’d think.  When I struggle with his constant Do The Right Thing-itis?  I look like a snarky woman.  He never yells.  He always has a thoughtful, prayerful response.  Always.  He apologizes sometimes before I even recognized that something wrong happened.   He doesn’t always consider my feelings but always behaves in the way he believes is appropriate.  He can’t be manipulated or bribed.   And he is honest to a degree that makes my thyroid shrivel.  I don’t know what that had to do with it, but it sounded appropriately ghastly.
  • It’s a good thing that I’m flawed and human enough for both of us. Expletive, frustrated comment, expletive.
  • I laugh more than he does.
  • He’s learning my ways.
  • My desk is a mess.  List of contents include a wilted batch of roses that I ended up with after my sister forgot them in the hotel,  receipts up the wazoo,  a slightly worn copy of Emily Dickinson, a very worn, printed in 1856 copy of Tennyson’s Poems Vol II,  Core curriculum, family photos, a cluttered cork board with a coupon for ice cream (which I can’t eat, but it’s a great coupon), a purple post it with the words, “I <3 you, mom” in a childish scribble and a large cardboard sign that reads “Without a love for book, the richest man is poor” among other things like a cat food dish (we no longer have a cat) and one pink chenille sock.    I’m cool like this.
  • At what point does one hear “you should write a book” and the magic happens?  Is there magic?  I have heard this exact phrase literally 25 times in the past year.  Is it God or arrogance to think that it might be a bit of Divine encouragement?
  • I bought knee high black boots with the most amazing kitten heels and oxford type detailing.  Just an FYI.
  • I spent several hours the other night talking to a couple of my friends, pulled out my Bible and had an impromptu bible study from Acts 5.  I find it difficult to explain how much sharing the Word with someone energizes me.  It’s probably the only time in my life where interaction with other humans doesn’t drain me.
  • And now I’m off to get ready for my day… Complete with a trip to the bank to find out why my debit card randomly switched accounts.  Yay me.  No. Really.  yay…
  • I’ve never been a fan of poetry, but I love good prose, and you’ve written a lot of prose that has been enjoyable to read over the years. I’d rate your prose skills higher than that of many published authors.

  • I’ve never been a fan of poetry, but I love good prose, and you’ve written a lot of prose that has been enjoyable to read over the years. I’d rate your prose skills higher than that of many published authors.

  • Doom

    This may come out wrong, but my vocabulary or thinking processes are what they are.

    You sound like a perfectly normal healthy woman. Your ways compared to your husbands are why men and women were meant to be together… both the good and the bad. We need to smile more, women need good men’s honesty. And boredom with doing well as a mother, and being loved? Come on, that is classic. Do all women take this class from, like, 2nd grade on? When no drama exists, create it, is (I think) a golden rule. Well, it can add spice to life.

    I really enjoy these bits and pieces. And, though you are quite different from any other woman, there is something that is familiar, and comfortable in the familiarity, too.

    As for magic, there is no magic. If you think you are called to write… well… write! Magic is one finger pressing one button at a time, over and over, until the process is complete (enough) to offer to a publisher (or publish yourself). Like love, there is no magic until you see the blessings it has offered, especially compared to the little suffering and inconvenience, after all and over longer and longer times. Go, write… or hush… woman!