ah, morning
The pizza party was fun even though I had slept the afternoon away and felt like a bear coming out of winter hibernation. Fuzzy in the head, slow and ambling.
After dinner, Alex blew out his candle and wished for world peace. On Sunday, he wished to be able to open his presents and PopPop said, "What? No, world peace?" Last night, that was his wish. So funny what kids remember.
It's 4 am and I think I feel better this morning. Last night, I imagined I was a strep carrier. (This was not completely out of left field. Is that the baseball expression? Or is it "out in left field"?) I thought that must be the explanation for the crappy way I have felt this week. I looked it up online, though, and I don't think that's it. I think it's a simple case of feeling crappy and being hyper-vigilant about how I feel and focusing on every little twinge. Bad combination.
When I woke this morning and before I got out of bed, I started listing things in my head to be nervous about: Pat flying to LasVegas, Tiffany not feeling well, the impending snow storm, junk in the basement. Banish those thoughts.
The hair in the middle of my head is about a quarter of an inch long. The rest of my head is fairly bare yet leading me to believe I could grow a great Mohawk if I had enough time.
Regis had a dream the other night that I knew I was circling the drain and commenced to interview replacement wives. I had criteria and wouldn't just allow anyone to apply. He dreams vividly and said that this one caused him to wake laughing once and crying once. We had a good laugh over it in the morning. If he had only been writing these dreams down over the years, we'd have a best seller and be able to live a ritzy lifestyle.
It just occurred to me that I think I quit one book in the middle and started another without really meaning to do that. Now I have the plots mixed up: The Last Afternoon at the Ritz and The Aviator's Wife. It's hard to be addled.
Paul Douglas, Minnesota's weather guru, swears (Do weather forecasters ever swear?) that a blizzard is coming. I'll be glad for that. Anything to break the monotony of this winter's gray landscape and gray sky. Of course, now that he has sworn, I'll be disappointed when it's a few piddling flakes and some slushy rain.
Regis and Gus are still sleeping. It's about time for Gus to come out and lay his furry head in my lap, meaning that he wants to go out, then he wants to eat, then he wants to go back to bed for an hour. He flushed a rabbit the other night but only pawed at it and sent it on its way. The rabbit who met up with the little white Westie next door the other day was not so lucky.
I'm going into the kitchen to make coffee. The curtains in the living room are still closed and will remain so as long as the wind howls and there is no snow to watch. I did crack them a bit yesterday so I could watch for cardinals at the feeder. The cardinals are singing their spring song now and if they can be optimistic that spring is coming, I guess I can be, too.
After dinner, Alex blew out his candle and wished for world peace. On Sunday, he wished to be able to open his presents and PopPop said, "What? No, world peace?" Last night, that was his wish. So funny what kids remember.
It's 4 am and I think I feel better this morning. Last night, I imagined I was a strep carrier. (This was not completely out of left field. Is that the baseball expression? Or is it "out in left field"?) I thought that must be the explanation for the crappy way I have felt this week. I looked it up online, though, and I don't think that's it. I think it's a simple case of feeling crappy and being hyper-vigilant about how I feel and focusing on every little twinge. Bad combination.
When I woke this morning and before I got out of bed, I started listing things in my head to be nervous about: Pat flying to LasVegas, Tiffany not feeling well, the impending snow storm, junk in the basement. Banish those thoughts.
The hair in the middle of my head is about a quarter of an inch long. The rest of my head is fairly bare yet leading me to believe I could grow a great Mohawk if I had enough time.
Regis had a dream the other night that I knew I was circling the drain and commenced to interview replacement wives. I had criteria and wouldn't just allow anyone to apply. He dreams vividly and said that this one caused him to wake laughing once and crying once. We had a good laugh over it in the morning. If he had only been writing these dreams down over the years, we'd have a best seller and be able to live a ritzy lifestyle.
It just occurred to me that I think I quit one book in the middle and started another without really meaning to do that. Now I have the plots mixed up: The Last Afternoon at the Ritz and The Aviator's Wife. It's hard to be addled.
Paul Douglas, Minnesota's weather guru, swears (Do weather forecasters ever swear?) that a blizzard is coming. I'll be glad for that. Anything to break the monotony of this winter's gray landscape and gray sky. Of course, now that he has sworn, I'll be disappointed when it's a few piddling flakes and some slushy rain.
Regis and Gus are still sleeping. It's about time for Gus to come out and lay his furry head in my lap, meaning that he wants to go out, then he wants to eat, then he wants to go back to bed for an hour. He flushed a rabbit the other night but only pawed at it and sent it on its way. The rabbit who met up with the little white Westie next door the other day was not so lucky.
I'm going into the kitchen to make coffee. The curtains in the living room are still closed and will remain so as long as the wind howls and there is no snow to watch. I did crack them a bit yesterday so I could watch for cardinals at the feeder. The cardinals are singing their spring song now and if they can be optimistic that spring is coming, I guess I can be, too.
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