Tra La La La La La La La La
Delicious. I stayed in bed until 8:44 this morning. I awoke upon the dot of seven, tossed, turned, grumbled and started to get pissed off that I couldn't fall back to sleep and then... Ty is telling me "Get up Mom, it's Thanksgiving!!". Roll over to the clock glaring 8:44 a.m. at me. Nice.
I love sleeping in. Love it. I, however, almost never get to do it. More than once, I've wished for a husband/boyfriend who is very fond of Ty, just so he'll have someone to get up with him. He is merciless when you are sleeping and he is not. He will bug me and bug me until, finally, I blow up and set the mood for a very shitty day. But this morning, with his declaration of "It's Thanksgiving!" and then telling me that his horse stomped on a snake, "oh, I don't know? A couple of days ago?" I was enchanted and a tickle kiss fest ensued and the mood was set properly. He seems to think that dreams are merely memories. And really, how do you explain dreams to a 4 year old? I've tried, but he tells me that you can only see movies and the like "WHEN YOU'R EYES ARE OPEN!!!" I have no doubt that one day, out of the blue, he will come up with some theory as to what dreams are and how they come about and I will be thoroughly charmed and convinced, myself.
Oh my god, I have so much to do today. My house is a disaster area. Missing only the yello caution tape stapled to the front and back doors. One of the thinks I hate the most about my life. I get busy and busy and busier and my mind is running in 200 different directions and then one day, I stop, look around and shudder at the hovel my home has become. And then go on a mad frenzy, wanting to get it all done, only to get to the last room and walk back into a living room that looks as if I never touched it. So I am hoping to clean/shovel it out today but chances are, maybe (and that should really be a MAYBE) the dishes will get done. No promises, though. Between a short 80 mile round trip to town, the wrapping of all last minute gifts and getting the mammoth roast cut up into smaller roasts and steaks before it spoils are cutting into my cleaning time. In addition to the stocking I am going to make for a friend of ours who will no doubt shake his head and curse a blue streak at our thoughtfullness. More like our evil senses of humor.
Short explanation: Almost every guy around here would have to have bamboo shoots being shoved up under pinky toenails before they would be mean to a girl. And Nellie, whom I've often referred to in a rather unflattering light, feeds upon this sort of man. She can do and say and push her way into many a man's bed simply because they don't like to come off as mean. And she has no problem taking advantage of this, I, on the other hand, as well as most of my compatriots, shudder at taking advantage of someone's manners and have to be told SEVERAL times that they really do want us to come over and that the invitations to their houses are really not made out of human kindness. Anyway, to Nellie and Joe. He complained, offhand, one night of not having anyone to cook for him. So she just marched right in (no invitation having been issued) and asked him to come to dinner with her. Mind you, Joe and herself aren't even particularly 'friends'. She asked him and he came up with many excuses, amongst them including "I can't. I have dishes and laundry and I have to take a shower." Wily girl that she is, she told him "Oh, go take your shower, throw your stuff in the washer and I'LL do your dishes." Oh, I would have PAID to have seen his face when she foiled his cop out excuse!! So, she marched in, did his dishes and proceeded to follow him to the bar where he had a cup of coffee and left 10 minutes after arriving.
So now, I tease him about it, asking if he has any dishes he wants ME to do? All the while, batting my eyelashes and simpering at him. The first time, he dead panned "I've killed people for less". And so a friend, myself and Merce (little sister) have decided to take him a 'stocking'. Made of rubber gloves and containing dish rags, dish soap, scrubbies and assorted dishwashing materials. He'll love it, I'm sure. At least, he'll appreciate our humor, I'm sure and after we give him the stocking, we'll try to refrain from ribbing him about it so he doesn't get mad.
K, must go. Little sister was here, informing me that she is going NOW and how dare I suggest that she wait for a few! She is ready to go NOW and if I am going to accompany her (in MY car, nonetheless!), I had better get my ass up and moving. Oh how terrible it would be if she couldn't find the keys!!! Tee hee. Later.
I love sleeping in. Love it. I, however, almost never get to do it. More than once, I've wished for a husband/boyfriend who is very fond of Ty, just so he'll have someone to get up with him. He is merciless when you are sleeping and he is not. He will bug me and bug me until, finally, I blow up and set the mood for a very shitty day. But this morning, with his declaration of "It's Thanksgiving!" and then telling me that his horse stomped on a snake, "oh, I don't know? A couple of days ago?" I was enchanted and a tickle kiss fest ensued and the mood was set properly. He seems to think that dreams are merely memories. And really, how do you explain dreams to a 4 year old? I've tried, but he tells me that you can only see movies and the like "WHEN YOU'R EYES ARE OPEN!!!" I have no doubt that one day, out of the blue, he will come up with some theory as to what dreams are and how they come about and I will be thoroughly charmed and convinced, myself.
Oh my god, I have so much to do today. My house is a disaster area. Missing only the yello caution tape stapled to the front and back doors. One of the thinks I hate the most about my life. I get busy and busy and busier and my mind is running in 200 different directions and then one day, I stop, look around and shudder at the hovel my home has become. And then go on a mad frenzy, wanting to get it all done, only to get to the last room and walk back into a living room that looks as if I never touched it. So I am hoping to clean/shovel it out today but chances are, maybe (and that should really be a MAYBE) the dishes will get done. No promises, though. Between a short 80 mile round trip to town, the wrapping of all last minute gifts and getting the mammoth roast cut up into smaller roasts and steaks before it spoils are cutting into my cleaning time. In addition to the stocking I am going to make for a friend of ours who will no doubt shake his head and curse a blue streak at our thoughtfullness. More like our evil senses of humor.
Short explanation: Almost every guy around here would have to have bamboo shoots being shoved up under pinky toenails before they would be mean to a girl. And Nellie, whom I've often referred to in a rather unflattering light, feeds upon this sort of man. She can do and say and push her way into many a man's bed simply because they don't like to come off as mean. And she has no problem taking advantage of this, I, on the other hand, as well as most of my compatriots, shudder at taking advantage of someone's manners and have to be told SEVERAL times that they really do want us to come over and that the invitations to their houses are really not made out of human kindness. Anyway, to Nellie and Joe. He complained, offhand, one night of not having anyone to cook for him. So she just marched right in (no invitation having been issued) and asked him to come to dinner with her. Mind you, Joe and herself aren't even particularly 'friends'. She asked him and he came up with many excuses, amongst them including "I can't. I have dishes and laundry and I have to take a shower." Wily girl that she is, she told him "Oh, go take your shower, throw your stuff in the washer and I'LL do your dishes." Oh, I would have PAID to have seen his face when she foiled his cop out excuse!! So, she marched in, did his dishes and proceeded to follow him to the bar where he had a cup of coffee and left 10 minutes after arriving.
So now, I tease him about it, asking if he has any dishes he wants ME to do? All the while, batting my eyelashes and simpering at him. The first time, he dead panned "I've killed people for less". And so a friend, myself and Merce (little sister) have decided to take him a 'stocking'. Made of rubber gloves and containing dish rags, dish soap, scrubbies and assorted dishwashing materials. He'll love it, I'm sure. At least, he'll appreciate our humor, I'm sure and after we give him the stocking, we'll try to refrain from ribbing him about it so he doesn't get mad.
K, must go. Little sister was here, informing me that she is going NOW and how dare I suggest that she wait for a few! She is ready to go NOW and if I am going to accompany her (in MY car, nonetheless!), I had better get my ass up and moving. Oh how terrible it would be if she couldn't find the keys!!! Tee hee. Later.
posted by Lori | 9:57 AM
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