Summer has arrived but it’s only February, so that’s a problem. Actually, it’s supposed to cool down back into the 70s and even 60s, so what am I complaining about?
Time is doing that thing where every time I surface I realize a week has passed and that summer really will be here in a second and then it will be Christmas and oh, did I mention that my son is turning eighteen in nine days and then then he’s going to graduate in June and leave for college?
In the meantime, my daughter is ill with some kind of headache and stomachache thing and yet I still have to drive carpool tomorrow (early release!) and I have a stack of paperwork to remind me of phone calls I must make. Let’s not even talk about the emails I need to return.
I am stressed out.
Last week my husband was out of town and I had such unrealistic expectations for all the things I’d do while he was gone, including, but not limited to: 1) cleaning out the garage 2) filing taxes and 3) clean out my closet.
Ha ha. When he’s gone, I have even more to do. Let’s just say my garage, closet and taxes remain undone.
Well, that’s all for now. I keep yawning so big that my eyes water.
Ten years ago, I wrote this: “Don’t Tell Me Things Will Get Worse.”
Go read it. If you want. (I read it twice. I was impressed by my ten-years-ago self. Ha.)
Otherwise, see you tomorrow.
I completely forgot to blog last night.
I dropped my husband off at the airport yesterday morning. He’ll be out of town for a week. That means that I begin a series of complicate drop-offs and pick-ups. Four kids who have two jobs and three schools and various activities but no driver’s licenses require this of me.
After returning home from the airport, I began Superbowl preparations. We had three different dips (is there any better excuse to make artichoke dip than a Superbowl game?) and donuts and chili. The funny thing is that no one watched a second of the game other than my daughter and me. I slept through the second quarter and she abandoned me before halftime.
None of the boys care about football at all.
Truthfully, I don’t care much, either. (Shhh.)
But can we just talk about Lady Gaga? Wow! That was some amazing rendition of the National Anthem.
And can we talk about Beyonce’? Why doesn’t she have any pants? Maybe we can start a GoFund me account so she can buy some pants! (Were they all stolen?)
I have to go.
See you later, alligator.
I’m out of words for this week but instead offer this photo I took last year at the Oceanside Pier.
Have a nice weekend!
I slept so soundly last night. That will happen when you spend seven hours walking around Disneyland and then an hour driving home and then three hours working.
My day was rather uneventful. Work, shuttling one son to school and back. I hurried to Costco for a pre-dinner shopping trip and then rushed home to put things away and cook dinner.
Drove another son to work, ate dinner, napped. Picked up son (he drove home with his new driving permit) and then it was time to work again.
I didn’t read today or see the ocean. Boo!
I was really tired all day and I still am.
Now, time to clean up the kitchen before bed.
Today my 13-year old daughter had a half-day of school, so I picked her up and we drove up the freeway to Anaheim where we spent seven hours and took a million steps to be thrilled and chilled and entertained.
I just love that she finally loves the Tower of Terror, you know?
We have mastered the use of the Single-Rider line which, when coupled with the use of an occasional Fast Pass, on a February afternoon means basically no waiting in line at the Happiest Place on Earth.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled week!
- A phone call with upsetting news.
- The dog barking her fool head off at people across the street.
- Abruptly because you’re late for an important date.
- The sound of crashing, like a giant mirror shattering at midnight.
- The dog doing that pre-vomit gag noise.
- The dog scratching at the door.
- A work-related text message.
- A smoke detector screeching.
- The yelling of kids who are fighting over nothing that matters.
- A wrong number on the telephone.
I don’t love waking up in the morning anyway but opening my eyes to any of these scenarios is a real bummer.
This morning, I woke up to several of these.
It’s Groundhog Day. I hope tomorrow is not a repeat of today.