How do you like it?
September 17, 2012
Sophie, the pup, prefers water from the toilet. Bijoux and Mamma, the cats, love to sip from glasses left on the table intended for humans. I’ve never seen Whitey the bird drink, all I know is she likes her H2O clean. (Which explains why that is the one spot in her cage she hasn’t used as a toilet.) Sammy the Turtle uses his water dish as a means of escape, he likes baths more than beverages.
Colin and Katy like their water delivered to them, five minutes past bed time. And it must be cold. Most nights they don’t get it, but they seem to be thriving.
I like to gulp water right from a gallon jug, 20 drinks and I’m done for a while. Sheldon likes cubes so he’s in charge of refilling the trays.
It’s funny. We all get thirsty. And each of us have entirely different ways of quenching that thirst. For the most part (excluding Colin and Katy’s demands, I mean, every single night, 5 minutes after I have tuck them in,) each preference is indulged.
I’m not heading for a metaphor, I’m sleepy. I’m not going to break into song about how lucky I am to be an American. I can’t sing, not much rhymes with water and it wouldn’t go over well with the top 40 demographic.
I just wanted to note- water is important. Scientists say so. So does the school nurse, and the trainers at my gym.
So turn off the tap when you brush, leaving it on isn’t going to clean the sink. Don’t flush just because you went into the bathroom to reapply lipstick. If you have to take a bath, share it with someone you love, or someone who smells so bad it is interfering with your quality of life.
My family and I thank you.
Thank God it’s Thursday, or, Hugging the House
September 7, 2012
Tonight, when I pulled in the driveway I had an overwhelming urge to hug my house. The whole house, the dust balls, and old bird, the crazy puppy and the weary sofas, the two short people that I knew would come spilling out the door any minute, (or not, depending on whether the dragon movie was near the end,) the stairs that collect dust more intensely and successfully than i’ve ever collected anything in my life, the bathrooms that need washers and washing, I wanted to hug the whole package.
And so I am. And anybody that stumbles on these words. I’m hugging you too. Thank God it’s Thursday.
Growing Pains, with a Little Middle Aged Angst on the Side and A Plan for One Late Night to Make Everything Better
September 4, 2012
Life for the next month or three is going to be nuts. I have got homework and labs and each weekday begins with the quest for impossible parking. I have an NCAA player in the making, and an Olympics contender on the verge- in the midst of my stuff my athletes need to be ferried to and from practices and competitions and fed something other than last night’s pizza.
There is my homework, their homework, playdates and hangouts, and the constant challenge of keeping them in appropriate footwear that fits. And I can’t forget the new kitten, the not so new puppy, the cats and the turtle and the dead bird in the shed, ( I have to find Whitey an everlasting home where Sophie won’t rip him to shreds.)
I have a lot on my plate, hell, I have a lot on my casserole dish that is roughly the size of Portland.
So as I move through these days coming ahead, I will plan for the moments just after.
When it’s done, when grades are in, championships won or lost, animals buried or tossed, living animals getting along or banished to individual rooms, doctors seen, paperwork done, I am going to find me a night on the town.
I don’t want to do shots. I could care less about scintillating conversation. I don’t need to dress up or eat morsels of strange food at ridiculous prices.
I want to go to club where I’ve never been. I want to sip a cold drink, take my time. I want to be asked by a gentleman, who, when he asks will act like he isn’t sure of my answer, for a dance. I will say yes. When I take his hand, the band will start playing just the right song. (I don’t know what the right song will be but it will be Just. The. Right. Song.) And we will slow dance round that floor like we have all of the time in the world. And we will.
Pledge, Though I Can’t Promise the Weather will Cooperate
August 28, 2012
Tomorrow, I’m taking the gang to the beach. We are going to pack a cooler with fried chicken from Shaws and a big thermos of lemonade. We are going to remember the frisbee and the football and the boogie boards. On the way I am going to sing along to hip hop and 80’s music until the kids cry for mercy, and/or promise to clear the table for the rest of the time they live at home.
When we get there we will find parking. The tide won’t be too high or too low. The water temperature will be cool enough to refresh, but not cold enough to hurt my toes. Tomorrow, I am going to make a day feel like a week, but it will end when I blink my eyes. I will take plenty of pictures. I will remember every single second forever.
And I promise I won’t hide under the beach umbrella posting whatever cute thing someone said on Facebook. I wo’t need to. I will remember every single second forever.
