Archive for the ‘Random thoughts’ Category

• My husband has had an iPhone for the last couple of months and has yet to set up his voice mail. This isn’t usually a problem until I try to reach him.
• Perfectly ripe organic Colorado peaches with organic heavy cream is one of life’s greatest joys. It makes my pleasure center jump up and run around like a squirrel on crack. Sadly this may be why I’m muffin-topping right on out of my jorts.
• I’m researching website design and hosting for a non-profit. Are all websites this expensive to design and set up or am I living in a dream world? At least in my dream world I can eat all the peaches and cream I like and still wear skinny jeans.
• Our electric bill hit a level I thought only possible if I was butchering beef on the side. And before anyone suggests various energy saving remedies, know I do them all. Just been hotter’n balls lately.
• My sons are fighting over Skype. A was video calling his bff, J is begging to video my mom, and A keeps “calling” me. From the next room. Sigh…got them hooked up with it, and now they’re fighting over who gets to talk to Gram. Srsly?
• If A doesn’t stop with the whole “seriously?” line I may string him up with dental floss. Seriously.
• I decided to just “let it all go” today. Be the eye in the center of the storm. Feels good. However, the house is trashed, the laundry needs to be rebooted, rhubarb marmalade needs to be processed, and the to-do list is mocking me. Tomorrow may be ugly.
• The Emmys and a Broncos pre-season game are on at the same time. Whatever shall we do?

Everyone should have such problems.

Seriously.

Oh, Sunday nap, how you elude me. I yearn for your soft embrace, yet you stay just out of reach. The few times that we have hooked up it has been a blissful union, and I miss those halcyon days. Those moments are burned into my mind; the soft pillow, the muted sunlight, the heaviness of limbs melting into a stretch. The feeling of oneness and contentment with the universe, of worries floating away, of guilt dissipating into the atmosphere. How I long for you, oh Sunday nap.

You appeared at my door this morning as I blearily stumbled through a pot of coffee, with a coy smile and a beckoning hand. You whispered of drowsy sweetness, of daydreams turned pleasant dreams, of a body drooping with heaviness into the sofa cushions. I reached out to you with a trembling hand, and our fingertips brushed briefly, like a soft butterfly kiss. You winked and murmured that you would be here for me, that you would wait…but only a short while.

I moved through the morning, through the early afternoon, trying to set a few things to rights so that I could settle into your arms. Occasionally I’d look over at you with yearning eyes, lounging peacefully on the couch, and quietly curse the to-do items keeping us apart. The active children, the messy kitchen, the never-ending laundry…all conspired to keep us apart. I tried, oh Sunday nap, how I tried!

And then I looked over and you were gone. The lateness of the hour told the story. You had left me, not to return for another week. Know that I love you, Sunday nap, that there is no one else for me. I will do better in seven days, I promise. Please don’t forsake me, return to my arms, bring me the sweet release I so desperately need.

I will sink into your arms next week, Sunday nap, for our long-desired union.

If you’re joining from the Living My MoMent Summer Blog Tour, welcome! Somehow I was lucky enough to be given the very last day of the tour. It’s been a long summer, with a lot of wonderful blogs to read, so I hope you enjoy this very last post on this very last day.

My newly revised elevator pitch describes Laughing at Chaos as “an eclectic look at the absurdities and insecurities of raising gifted kids. And a bunch of other stuff.” Today it’s just all about me. For a change, it’s not about the hell of home repair or how my sons are driving me batshit crazy or even the continuing saga of Princess the PMSing Laptop/MacDreamy/MacDreamy2. For the record MacDreamy2 is happy and healthy and loves me because I turn him on every day. Bah dum dum. Thank you folks, I’m here all week, try the veal.

No, today it’s about something else. Something more…sinister. <cue campy bad guy music>

I cannot freaking stand the book “The Giving Tree.” I never read it as a kid, so when Tom bought it for the boys several years ago I was all, “Meh. Whatever.” I’m more of a Dr. Seuss person anyway. And then I read it. Oh my freaking God are you kidding me? Did Silverstein have mother issues? The first time I read it to A I was horrified. The tree/mother kept on giving and giving and giving and what the hell ended up a stump. A STUMP! A stump that became a seat for the boy turned old man. Even as an old man the boy took advantage of the tree. Hey, tree! You don’t need to keep giving like that! It’s ok to tell the boy to go away, I promise he’ll survive the disappointment. You are allowed to refuse to give the boy your apples to sell for money, to refuse to give him your branches to build a house, to refuse to give him your trunk to build a boat. The little shit never visited except to ask for more and more and more, so it’s ok to say no.

Being a mom is a lot like that tree. (Really Jen? Do you worship at the alter of the Goddess of All Obviousness? Yes, yes I do.) Our kids want so much from us and they’ll keep taking until we say no. No, you can’t have that. Why? Because it’s mine and you can manage on your own without it. I will shelter you with my leaves and feed you with my apples but I’ll be damned if I let you destroy me for a house or a boat.

It comes down to self-respect, and that’s where I have such a problem with this book. I worry that moms reading it think they’re failing if they’re not giving til it hurts, but even more, I worry that kids reading it think that that sort of dysfunctional giving is ok. And it’s not. There are limits, and limits are good.

I’m torn between quietly removing the book and reading it with the boys again to see what they think. Given the vast issues we have here with intensities and overexcitabilities, methinks it would be best to take the book out to a farm where it can happily live out its natural life make sure it’s in the next donation box. I just don’t think I have it in me to explain just why this book is insensitive and insulting.

And then I will bring out The Lorax…again…and feed their insatiable appetite to fix all things environmental.

But for me? I will watch this Second City clip again and laugh…because it’s true.

Ahhh, a slight break in painting. As arid as it is here, the walls dry quickly, so painting goes fast. J’s room should be done today and we’ll start A’s room tonight. Thank God the boys are having a blast sleeping in the basement. For the first time in forever, neither kid is leaving his room to whine about being hungry after bedtime. Hm. Must ponder why.

Painting a room gives me plenty of time to ponder. If I think about how much has to be done, I get all twitchy and find any reason to avoid starting. The computer is a fantastic way to procrastinate. So is cleaning, believe it or not; you can pretend you’re getting something important done. So when I paint, I focus solely on what I am doing at that moment. This is not easy for me; I’m usually planning several steps/days/years ahead. First, the ceiling: cut around the edges, when that’s done get the roller, when that’s done pull the tape. Second, cut in the blue paint: this wall, then that wall, then inside the window, then that wall. Just one thing at a time, and I’m relaxed. I’m focused on the brush going up and down and side to side, getting the tiny specks of old paint covered. I concentrate on painting, but not overly so. Oops, missed a spot, get it, move on. I don’t beat myself up about missing that spot in the first place, I just fix it and keep going. Wish I could do that in real life.

As I paint I write blog posts in my head. I wish I could download them straight from the brain because blue paint just ruins the sleek sexiness of MacDreamy2. I imagine if he had eyes, they’d be this color blue, but I’m not providing the tint today. I dream about the future; places I’d like to visit, other home improvements I’d like to make. I think about the boys, and my hopes and dreams for them. This last one is tough, for I can very quickly run that puppy into the ground, stressing over what might be. I tread lightly on that topic. Painting is as close to a meditative state as I can get with my eyes open, sweating like a construction worker, and breathing in semi-toxic fumes. I enjoy painting, and I’d do it more often for the meditative part of it, if it weren’t for the fact that having my house torn up for several days makes me a snarling bitch.

All this said, no, I will not come paint your house.

The walls should be dry enough for me to continue now. More taping and caulking and painting and thinking and before I know it, the room will be lovely. At least until the little boy moves back into his room.

But I won’t ponder that now.

I have been feeling distinctly unbeautiful as of late,  beginning with another bout of gluten poisoning this weekend (they’re getting more severe when they happen), continuing with a personal training session this morning with the trainer I’ve been using in a group class setting and therefore had to tell someone out loud that I weigh one-hundred-and-I-ate-both-my-sons and how much that bothers me and on a scale of 1-10 how committed am I to change yadayadayada, and culminating in janking up my knee running between buildings in the rain this afternoon, so getting this award from Subadra from Library of Links, Books, and More, was a delight. Hello run-on sentence, how’ya doin’?

As a recipient of the Beautiful Blogger award, one must:

1) Add a link and note of thanks to the person giving the award.
Subadra, thank you for brightening my day. And many, many thanks for your learning links and lists. I will try to write more funny posts like the one about Buddy’s surgery.

2) Pass the award on to the bloggers whose blogs you love (15 tops)
Lemme see what I got in my bag o’ blogroll…

Nancy at Away We Go. Nancy’s parents live in my town, and she and I met for coffee when she was visiting in May. That was awesome. The morning we met (May, remember) we were socked with a couple inches of snow and now Nancy doesn’t want to move out here. That was bad. She never fails to make me laugh, ever. Her writing is delightful, and I love reading about someone else surviving raising two sons.
Denise at Eat Play Love. Denise was one of my first blog friends turned real life friend. She lives not far from me and we try to get together when we can. We (and I use “we” extremely loosely, as she has done 99.99% of the work) write a bento blog together: Colorado Bento (and stunner, I actually have a post up there today! Gasp!).
Christina at ends with 8741. Another blog friend who is now a real life friend. Yes, I recognize an inadvertent theme here. She and I met for dinner last month when I was in Chicago, and it was wonderful. She started the Hopeful Parents network (and I have to use network, because it’s so much more than a blog now) and despite raising a child with severe mental illness, is building that network into a force to be reckoned with for parents of special needs kids. I’m proud of her.
Melissa at Forty is Just Another Number. Mel is my BFF-if-we-lived-in-the-same-town. She’s in Austin, I’m in Denver-ish, and eventually we’ll meet. I keep hoping she’ll move here, but that is, sadly, unlikely to happen. She, too, is raising two gifted sons, and we have a grand ol’ time comparing notes. And cocktail recipes.
Tiffani at freeplaylife. Tiffani was a blog friend who became a real life friend when we realized we lived in the same town and then she moved away and broke my heart and now I live vicariously through her. She is the bravado I wish I had. Last year she and her family sold off everything they owned, moved into an RV on the California beach, then into a small home in Hollywood. She unschools her kids and they are wicked smart kids. She is raising her kids to grow into themselves, and not a preconceived notion of what a <insert age of kid here> should be. She’s my inspiration in many ways.
Missy at Loving Your Gifted Child and Much, Much More. Ah, the “raising gifted kids” blogger I wish I was. She balances her writing between stories of her kids and information on general giftedness. It’s a delicate balance and she is walking that fencepost well.
Kelley at Magneto Bold Too! Yes, please don’t read this sassy Aussie if you’re easily offended, the woman has a mouth like a drunken sailor on shore leave with a pocket full of cash. And I totally think she rocks. I’d love to sit back and toast margaritas to each other with her, but the best I can do is enjoy her from afar. But when the day comes that I finally make it to the opposite hemisphere, we’re going hittin’ the town.
Dawn at Weldable Cookies. She and I couldn’t be any more different unless I was a platypus and she was a…anything else. And yet, we’re friends. When a cranky middle-aged butch lesbian and a work at home stressed out wife and mom can find common ground for friendship, true friendship, you know that…well, it’s pretty cool.

3) Share 7 things about yourself

• Did I mention that I totally janked up my knee this afternoon? Yeah, wasn’t sure if I had whined about that enough yet. I’m lying (laying?) here on the couch with an icepack and I just can’t get it comfortable. As A has been saying so often that we’re all going batshit crazy from it, “Seriously?”
• I stunned Tom with this little tidbit last week. I cannot stand to have anything on my thumbnails. Peanut butter, meatloaf, anything. Nail polish I’m ok, but anything with heft to it, and I’m reduced to a quietly hysterical mess. Gagging/gurgling in the back of my throat, shallow breathing, panicked rushing to the sink/towel. He couldn’t believe we’d been together for 17 years and he never knew that. Well buddy, it’s not something I advertise, m’kay?
• I love Rainier cherries. Not only are they about the most delicious thing I get to put in my mouth this time of year, but they are full of memories. My beloved flute teacher  loved Rainier cherries, and we ate them by the pound at a masterclass he taught in Victoria, B.C. I had a whole bunch this afternoon and smiled the whole time.
• I am convinced…wait, past convinced…that A is conspiring to drive me batshit crazy. I have suspected for a few months now that his beloved GT teacher had left his school and had no idea how to break it to him. Little shit offhandedly mentioned at dinner tonight that Ms. S left wouldn’t be returning to school this year because she left to become a writer. Ok, A) totally jealous that she left to become a writer and, B) he has known this since the beginning of MAY and just now mentioned it! Truly I think my darling son stays up nights thinking up ways to keep my hair colorist in business for life.
• I have never been skiing in my life. Thirteen years in a state with some of the best skiing in the world, and I’ve never thrown myself down a mountain on a pair of toothpicks. If I can throw out a knee running 100 yards in the rain, do you really thing it’s a good idea for me to attempt that?
• Though I grew up in Chicago, I was born in Tennessee and lived there until I was around two. As a result, I can slide into a Southern drawl without a lot of effort. Yes, spooks me too.
• My cousin had the twins about 10 days ago. They are healthy and happy and I get new pictures and videos every day. They have that wonderful “how the hell did I get here?” look to them and don’t look at all like preemies who went through the pregnancy from hell. I can’t wait to snuggle them. Hopefully Christmas.

Alrighty then. I feel a bit more beautiful, with a bit more hope for the week. Go visit the beautiful bloggers I mentioned and make their day.

You know how you can tell it’s summer? You blink and foomp! and it’s been a week since your last post. It’s not like I’m on vacation, or going on incredible adventures, or needlepointing a beach towel with the armpit hair of fairies…it’s just summer. My time is mainly spent in juggling what I need to do (pick one) with what I want to do (again, pick one) with the boys not currently in camp (tactical error on my part) with the fires that pop up every day and demand instant attention.

Like the fact that MacDreamy has another appointment with the Genius Bar this morning because the bastard had the same monitor issue crop up yesterday afternoon. I’m too tired to be kidding; I was up insanely late last night reading (only time I’m left alone long enough to be sucked into a good book) and I’ve been forcing myself to get up at 6:30 lately so I have that extra bit of quiet time before the boys thump their way into the day. I’m tired is what I’m saying. On the bright side, I may or may not get to indulge my fantasy of being a cranky, profane bitch in public as I demand the problem be fixed. Now. With no cost to me. And bring me a latte, peon! A skinny one! I keep seeing pictures of my 40 pound overweight self and think they should be hung in a garden to scare off animals! Or in a Baskin Robbins store to scare off dieters!

But summer allows me to indulge my Little House in the Subdivision life. Apparently those books have had way too much influence on me. Let’s recap. Yesterday I:

• planted beans in the garden box that recently held 73!!!! heads of garlic. I am now doing crop rotation in my backyard.
• trained the four grape vines to grow along the fence properly. We have grapes. LOTS of grapes. It’s the Laughing at Chaos Vineyard, and the 2010 vintage will be jelly.
• sweet-talked the tomato plants, because those poor suckers just look unhappy.
• weeded. I like weeding; it’s like popping a zit in the garden. Very satisfying.
• fertilized everything in the hopes that the combination of this week’s high temperatures plus water plus ground feeding will make things happy.
• staked up the tomatillo plant that, if a windstorm doesn’t blow off all the flowers like the last time I grew tomatillos, will keep the entire neighborhood in salsa for a year.
• popped the flowers off the basil plants and rejoiced in the fact that they may all survive. All six of them. Do you have any idea how much basil six plants produces? I may have overdone it there.

This weekend I also dried kale and stashed it in the freezer, so we can have sausage kale soup this winter, as there is no way in hell I’m making soup in a week when it’s going to in the mid-90s. Yogurt yogurted last night, and today I start on a batch of beef jerky.

Wait! What was that? <listening>

Ahh…the dulcet sounds of silence. Getting up at the crack of crazy really is a good idea! Perhaps I could work on any of the dozen post ideas I have on a sticky note here. Or read a book. Or any number of other things that don’t get done because it’s summer.

Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll sit here with a cup of coffee, the silence, and the beautiful mountain view and give thanks that I have such problems.

Yeah. That sounds about right.

School is over. Summer break has begun. In the last six days we have driven over 900 miles through three states, endured a wedding, and are still speaking to one another. We’re in Chicago now visiting my parents and playing tourist. And something come over me the other night as my little nuclear family sat with my parents and my brother and his wife, enjoying the Memorial Day holiday.

These are the Good Old Days.

I could feel it as I sat there. These are the days that someday I’ll look back on with delightful fondness. The days that my sons will someday say, “Remember when…?” and we laugh. Just the comfort and love and acceptance in the room made my soul smile. Taking them to Navy Pier today to play and watch the ships and eat Italian Ice was just memories in the making that we enjoyed today. Having my totally awesome sister in law join us made it even better.

(A joke from A that has me in hysterics these days: “Hey mom! Know why your butt crack is up and down instead of side to side? So when you fall down the stairs you don’t go tttttthhhhhhpppppp….”)

So often I live in the past reliving decisions or in the future weaving dreams in the sky, and forget to experience the NOW. The now is the fun, the now is the juice of life running down your chin, the now is why we’re here.

This month, amidst all the chaos I have going on with travel and summer break and What To Do With My Future, I am participating in NaBloPoMo (Not Just for November Anymore!). The theme this month is “Now.” Apropos, no? It’s something that’s been on my mind lately, how to live more in the moment. I think typing about it for most of 30 days might help just a wee bit.

But now? Bed. For tomorrow is Mecca, Christmas Day, and the Tooth Fairy all wrapped up in one gigantic blue and yellow building.

Tomorrow is IKEA day.

Call for help if I don’t return. Or don’t. I could be very happy living there.

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This month’s theme for NaBloPoMo is “Now.”

As I am convinced that this here little blog is a megaphone to the universe, and Murphy and his little Law in particular, I offer up a slew of apologies (but no sacrifices, I’m fresh out of goats) in hopes that they will reverse the multitude of SNAFUs, FUBARs, and  other situations that involve the words “f*cked” and “up.”

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Dear sons,
I’m sorry I totally broke down last night. There was no real reason for me to lose my shit, scream at you, and burst into tears. Yeah, Daddy is out of town until tomorrow night, but I usually hold it together better than that. Plus the stress is noticeably lower with him gone right now. I blame it on standing outside at the Cub Scout picnic for 2 1/2 hours, freezing my ass off and trying to crawl into the coals of the BBQ to stay warm. It was long past your bedtime and I just wanted you guys to get a bowl of cereal and go to bed. Farting around and being typical little boys wasn’t exactly the best plan. You were both so sweet hugging me and loving on me, but you didn’t deserve that from me.
I’ll do better in the future,
Mom

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Dear right wrist,
I’m sorry I wasn’t wearing asbestos gloves while making spaghetti sauce the other day. I’m sorry I grabbed a towel and pressed it into you when the oil popped and nailed ya good. I’m sorry that rubbed off the burnt skin. I’m sorry it’s gotten cold and now I have to wear long sleeves. I’m sorry you’re going to have scars from this:

I’ll do better in the future,
Me

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Dear Denise,
I’m sorry I haven’t been contributing to Colorado Bento as much as I should. I have pictures on my iPhone to upload and write about, but that’s as far as they’ve gotten. You’re carrying too much of the weight there.
I’ll do better in the future,
Jen

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Dear blog,
I’m sorry I haven’t been keeping up with you. I’m sorry that code has gotten all janky and the left sidebar is wonked. I’m sorry that more janky code is making linked text the same color as the rest of the text. I’m sorry that I haven’t been writing more. I’m sorry I haven’t developed the community here that I wanted to create (BlogFrog, I’m talking to you here). I’m sorry that I haven’t set up my blogroll. I’m sorry that I haven’t put together a page of gifted/twice-exceptional resources, like I had planned. I’m sorry I haven’t figured out how to do more with this little writing project, that I want to expand. I’m sorry that I feel guilty when I do work on you, because it means that something else is falling by the wayside.
I’ll do better in the future,
Me

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Dear house,
I’m sorry that I haven’t been keeping up with you, to the point that I now have 3 1/2 pages of repairs and improvements that need to be done. Some are more urgent than others, some are considerably more expensive than others, but they all need to be done. All require massive amounts of time. I’m also sorry about the dust bunnies having wild orgies in the middle of the floor. I’ve spoken to them about it, but they just laughed and went back to their crazy humping.
I’ll do better in the future,
Me

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Dear all the fantastic ideas and plans in my head,
I’m sorry I can’t keep up with all of you. Please be patient.
I’ll do better in the future,
Me

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Dear  body,
I’m sorry I am back and forth about taking good care of you. Exercise is up, but this week so is mayo/peanut butter M&Ms/wine consumption. And while I’ve been wanting to get off the anti-depressant, things have been so bad lately that instead I may want to consider mainlining Prozac something a little stronger. Bear with me.
I’ll do better in the future,
Me

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Dear anyone who has ever commented here and has his/her own blog,
I’m sorry I haven’t been by to read and comment. Special apologies go to Christina at Ends at 8741 (been going through hell and I haven’t been able to give her much blog love), Nancy at Away We Go (I love her writing), Missy at Loving Your Gifted Child and Much Much More (so much in common), the crew at So Over Everything (again, too much in common), and Big Mama Cass at The World Through My Eyes (love her writing too). You guys have come by here and left comments and have been wonderful and I haven’t reciprocated. I feel terrible about that. More apologies to Deborah Mersino; I haven’t been able to participate in the #gtchats that I love (THE happening place for gifted info) lately because life is giving me swirlies right now. Still more apologies to Eileen at Giving Her All She’s Got for passing along the Honest Scrap Award several weeks ago. Thank you, Eileen. I would show the picture here, but more code on the blog is janky and I can’t upload pictures. Sigh.
I’ll do better in the future,
Jen

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Dear life in general,
I’m sorry for whatever I did to piss you off. Please stop. I’m done. I’ll even search out a sacrificial goat if that would help. Enough with the ongoing little things that eventually become heavier until you can’t deal with it anymore. Enough with not wanting to get up in the morning. Enough with the guilt. Enough with hating life and wanting to run away. Just…enough.
I’ll do better in the future…if you will,
Me

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Be sure to visit 3 Bedroom Bungalow to see other participants, and have a great weekend!

It’s really been a craptastic three weeks. The fan got tired of being the target and started throwing shit back at us. Now I know how the fan feels. Poor fan. But, God willing, things will calm down in the next week or so. In the meantime, allow this little bit of primal screaming…

• Um, extended family member? I’ll take financial and budgetary advice from you…well, never. Medical advice, perhaps. But the chance of either me or my husband taking financial advice is zero. Zilch. Nada. Kinda like your portfolio.
• Boulder parking? Perhaps you should check the dashboard for the PAID receipt before issuing me a $15 parking ticket. Bet your sweet ass I’m going to contest it, but seriously, you made me cry. Frustration leaking all over the MomVan. Next time I go to the acupuncturist, I’m taping the receipt to the windshield with a big ol’ note “SEE? PAID. MOVE ALONG NOW. AND GET YOUR EYES CHECKED, YA IDJIT!”
• Dearest oldest son, if you leave chocolate in your room for the dog to eat one more effing time, you won’t live to see nine. I don’t care that your birthday is tomorrow, I will wring.your.neck.
• Rosie, stay out of the chocolate.
• Wind. I am not a fan. Go away. Bring warm temperatures.
• Murphy. Get the holy hell out of my house. You were gone for a long time, I didn’t miss you, didn’t answer your emails and let the machine get your calls. You were not invited here and it’s time for you to get out. Take the wind with you.
• School district, you will kindly give final approval to the charter school tomorrow night. The state told you to do it, and do it you must. Yes, you can deny again and the state will then mandate the school, but you’ll look like fools and we’ll have to postpone a year. It’s bad enough that I have to go to a school board meeting on my son’s birthday, let’s not give him bad news right at bedtime, m’kay?

<deep, cleansing breath>

I feel slightly better now. Not great, barely good, but slightly better. Baby steps.

Yes, indeed, there ain’t nuttin like holding down an almost 9 year old child who needs to have blood drawn. A is having a minor surgical procedure to determine once and for all if he has Hirschsprung’s Disease (unlikely at this age) or if something else causing his GI issues, so today we had the pre-op appointment, complete with blood work. But wait! That isn’t the best of it! He has to have this done because when he had a procedure a year ago, the path slides from the area in question are unreadable, missing, or both, hence needing it done again. But there’s more! I scheduled this procedure for this Thursday, so he wouldn’t miss any more school, and lo and behold, the person scheduling it borked it the hell up and we weren’t on the schedule! So now he gets to miss a day of school next week! And the very best part of all is…our insurance changed in February to a high deductible savings account! Wheeee!!!!!

Would you believe that this wasn’t the most stressful part of the last 72 hours?

I can’t talk about any of it at this point, but the stressball I was last week has improved only in that I no longer want to kick my husband in the head as I walk out the door. That is a huge improvement. I have always believed you should never scream to the heavens, “WHAT’S NEXT?,” for the heavens will most certainly show you. And I believe I have learned in the last several days to not write on a blog about desiring change, for the universe will take notice and chuckle in a most evil manner. I am trying to go all zen on the whole situation, including the surgical procedure, but my zen is rapidly deteriorating.

On the plus side? After last week’s 12 inches of cement snow, it’s going to be in the mid-70s this week. Spring break indeed.