rolling my eyes at myself

Coming home today, full of good book-thoughts and a fast trip to the grocery still lingering in my list-making head, flying down the highway......when I heard it. Damn.

Whumpa whumpa whumpa. Never a good sound.

I dithered. The car wasn't pulling or faltering or hard to steer, and the next turn-off was just over the next hill and around the corner.

I could make it.

Whumpa whumpa whumpa.

But this was....odd. The sound wasn't constant. Just a few whumpas, then silence - not like you'd expect a blown tire to sound. And the sound didn't falter when I slowed, nor speed up when I experimentally goosed it a bit.

Great. I had Broken The Car. (whumpa)

Was there something on the outside of the car? I peered around, trying to see the seat belts on the passenger side. It sure looked like they weren't caught in the door. A mud flap, maybe?

I coasted to a stop once I was off the highway. Used the handy-dandy strip of lonesome concrete that sometimes the semis hang out on (no one seems to know exactly what its actually for) and hopped out to survey the damage.

All the tires looked fine. (whew) As a matter of fact, the entire car looked good.

I was writing it off to a fluke and ready to get back in when I noticed the gas door open and the gas cap hanging out.

Whumpa whumpa whumpa indeed.

Sometimes, I have to wonder which would be more embarrassing - telling Bear I broke the car (with the added bonus of the mysterious noise) ......or admitting I had freaked myself out over a brain-dead moment at the gas pumps.

no wonder I don't sleep anymore

1:16 a.m, and since Bear is raising the roof with his snoring, I don't immediately flip off the television. Instead I peer at it in a lazy, glasses-half-off way, and decide that what's coming on next - Lost Tapas (must be the Food Network?) will do to lull me into sleep. The Cat Hat settles in with a low basso profundo purr, and I blearily begin to watch.

(Because you've never really slept until you've had thirty pounds of devoted kitty curling up on your hair, stomach firmly pushed to your ear. At least you've never slept at my house.)

Eyes knocking sideways, beginning to yawn 0 maybe I won't see any new recipes then? and....

The person on the tv begins to talk about large dead things. Things with wings and claws.

And much blood. And screaming. This is the strangest cooking show I've ever seen!

Suddenly, it's 2 a.m. and my insomnia is beginning to make sense.



I like tapas. 'Twas a shame.

smart ass wife

Scene: Kids are tussling on the sofa. B tends the fire while I sit typing. He meanders over to see what I'm doing. (I'm on Facebook.) He stands and reads this status of one of my friends while I skim the rest of the page:

I've marked that I like this.


B (pleased as punch) So! I'm a wonderful husband, am I?

Me: *stabbing a last few keys* Nah. You're kind of crappy, actually.

B *reproachfully* Really?

Me: (shrugs) Well, I guess you're okay....

B (peeks at me out of the corner of his eye) Oh, really?

Me: Well, I can't tell you you're great. Your head will blow up!

B: Fair enough. (Kisses the top of my head and wanders away)

~end scene~

show us your privates

My shirt was purple, satin swirly stuff, and I think I only wore it a few times because while I loved it, it reminded me of pyjamas. And my earrings were silver.

I don't remember them - they hold no special place in my heart - but they'd have to be silver, because that was all I wore back then.

And I think (I think!) this was taken at the dining room table.

I love this picture. Love the way it almost (okay, if you ignore the outrageously eighties hair) looks moody and flapperish, love the way I recognize bits of my grandmother's bone structure, love how I look all thoughtful and considering.

I look back over the years since this was taken and I wonder - if I could talk to this girl, could make her come out of her growing up is haaaaaard to doooooo angst,

would we have much to say to each other?

photo credit, Edw. J. Van Dyne. Senior picture, 1989
(I had black-and-whites.)

I'd like to think so. But I'm not sure. She had bigger plans, different axes to grind, different-sized problems. She laughed a lot (although you can't tell from this picture!) and she was more open to new things.

God, the hair. Is it growing, or is it just me??
This piece of navel-gazing brought to you by Wayback Week, a silly little bit of Facebook status fluff that started me thinking about how far I've come and how I've changed since high school.

Oh, yeah, and it's Delurker Day. I'd love it if you'd let me know you're out there so I can come check out your blogs, too!

in a manner of speaking

I am raising a couple of Canadians.

Of course I know that, but sometimes they use a turn of phrase and it strikes me - these aren't the kids with the guy next door I thought I'd have.

My daughter uses the washroom. Politely. But never bathroom, or restroom.

My son says chesterfield.

And they both, (intermittently, so it's always a shock) say zed.

A-B-C (and so on)
T-U-V
W,X,Y, and ZED.

It doesn't rhyme, and it falls on my still-American ear with a thud.

It comes as a shock sometimes how --despite shared biology--we are so different.

Next year we're talking about putting Rosey in girls' hockey. I'd better pick up some books and study before then - I have a feeling it's going to be a brave new world for me then.

heartsore

My heart is sore today.

I walked into the manse and immediately shot into what is that mode - the sounds of a waterfall where there should be none greeted me.

Oh, dear lord. The recent cold had broken a pipe, and there was water everywhere. Several inches deep in the kitchen, it had gone through the ceiling from the upstairs bathroom and was busily rushing into the hall. The dining room was awash. The basement ran with water. Saddest of all was the kitchen, where part of the ceiling had fallen and the pattern on the lino had disappeared, worn off by relentless streams.

Through it all, the furnace chugged along, merrily trying to keep the house warm.

I'm not sure what's going to happen, or when. I'm just saddened that it happened. It seems a very dreadful thing to happen to such a beautiful, history-filled place.

tea in the sahara with you

It's crazy, how a simple thing like getting together over cake and coffee can re-energize you.

Tomorrow is the inaugural meeting of a group that grew out of the literacy class I was a part of - we're plotting all sorts of good things, not the least of which will be the chance to get out and get with other women to laugh and talk and exchange ideas.

Today I did laundry and dishes and the sweeping and the mopping *Cinderella's mice burst into song behind me* and the cooking and the clearing up and all the while I kept thinking how nice it will be to flop down on that chair tomorrow and have someone hand me a cup of coffee, to giggle about stupid things and cheer each other on.

How nice.

And how timely, as the weather goes from nasty to so-so to briefly beautiful to melt and melt and melt some more, to start something new.

on the first day of the new year

Jen wanted to know what my New Years resolutions are:

(I have to preface this by saying I don't do well with resolutions. These are some things I really, really want to do - and do well - this year.)

1.To MAKE a garden, not just plot/plan/drool over the seed catalogs/draw pretty pictures of one. This may also involve learning to shoot a gun or throwing dynamite because, lawdy, them deer be HONGRY.

2. To allow myself to be selfish sometimes and not always put the kids and the husband first. No one's going to starve if I'm off somewhere doing something fun and don't get home to plan/make dinner. They're all tall enough to get to the peanut butter now. (heh)

3. Learn something new every month. To stop staring enviously at all the new craft/project sites I keep finding and JUST DO IT.

4. Oh, you know, the usual. Loseweightexercisemorecookbettermovemuchcurecancerwriteeverydaydiscovermyself.

Every day.

Aren't we all going to have a great 2010? I think we will.