Where is the Isle of Me?

Nothing gets you focused on the right stuff - yourself that is - like the promise of a new pair of shoes. It doesn't take much when you are 5 (or 50). Last night during a trip to Marshalls, the greatest store in the world, my girls and I were there to cruise the shoe department. All business as usual in a retail setting, looking for bargains and nothing less, I was whipping up and down those aisles when I heard 5 year-old Nora (audibly frustrated) say, "Where is the aisle of me?" Well I've been asking that same question for forty-one years. I heard that the folks from Lost may have found it once, but that was just a rumor.

Laughing at nothing

If a housewife laughs at her own joke and no one is around to hear it, is it funny? No, really, I need to know. And yes, I did just call myself a housewife.

My daughter is sitting beside me and just asked, "do other people think your blog is funny?" "Of course", I couldn't get the words out fast enough. By the way, if anyone is wondering why I've been writing again, I decided that I had to change the way in which I approach this silly blog. For one thing, I'm writing during the day instead of at night while I'm still fresh. I'm also keeping the posts shorter and fretting less about them. Don't forget to leave a comment if the mood strikes. Thanks for reading.

Nora getting ready for work.

All in a day's work

When I played Moms yesterday with my kindergartner, she told me she might be quitting her job. I asked if she and her husband could make it without her salary, and she said, "oh yes, he makes a thousand dollars". I stared at her, choking back the laugh, when she added, "a day". "Oh", I smiled, "well that's a significant income, you guys would be fine if you were to quit."

Ella Bo Bella

What a morning! I had to drop three kids off at two schools and bring a pup to doggie daycare. Am I one of those people? I can't believe I'm actually paying somebody to wear out my dog. She's only been twice before today and must be getting used to the idea of being shipped off for a few hours. When I made my second school stop this morning, I had Ella in the car. I tried to restrain her as two kids unloaded, but she broke out and went running up the school sidewalk, right up to the front door. What a scene... cars, buses, kids, parents, mayhem. It was absolutely hilarious. In short order, I gathered her up in my arms and carried her back to the car. I was so embarrassed, but glad for the laugh.

Up all night

Let's see, what happened today? Well, it started with a bang at 4 am when my daughter woke me with her cries - turned out her arm was asleep. At least her arm knew what to do in the middle of the night. After 60 seconds of soothing her and waking her arm, I went back to bed, but couldn't fall asleep. Instead, I lay in bed and listened to the wind and rain, praying that the basement wasn't filling with water. I was panicked, yes, but couldn't convince myself to leave my cozy, if not sleepless, nest to walk downstairs and check. Hours later, vindication. When I finally made it down the two flights, I found a dry basement.

If only I had a fancy house

If you have a fancy house, please don't invite my 5 year-old over for a play date. My post-playdate debriefing sessions with Nora go something like this... Me, "Did you have fun at (fill in the blank's) house?" Nora, "She has a fancy house, I want a fancy house." Then there's ten minutes of whining, followed finally by an admission that, while our house is nice, so and so has a nicer house. You can see where this is going. There is no place to hide here and certainly no way to win. If she only knew about a little thing called spectrum, my words might begin to make sense to her. The way I see it, that day is still about fifteen years away.

Remembering Rudy

My dog Ella was born last May, so she is not yet a year old. She's coming along, growing tall and bringing moments of pure delight (well, not always). For those of you who don't know, our last pet (beloved Rudy) died last spring from cancer after loving us unconditionally since 1996. But when you grieve something you've lost, there's no speeding up that process. Remembering Rudy is something I fit into everyday, no matter how much I have to do. And the great thing about remembering someone in this way is that you don't have to include it on a to-do list, or even set aside time to do it. It just happens at its own speed and with its own sense of grace. Thank goodness for that...

Winter *ucks!

I feel as though I won't survive the rest of January with a positive mental attitude. It's weird how December seems to just fly by thanks to a few holiday decorations, a party or two and time spent buzzing through stores like a lunatic. It doesn't seem to matter how low the temperature drops in December either, I just clip along. But come January, things begin to look different. The first week or so, I'm good -I catch a little of that, "let's organize our whole life and things will be swell" syndrome. But after that, I'm done. February I can handle. Maybe it's the short month, or maybe I know that March always follows, and no matter how awful March has ever been, I still picture myself flying a kite wearing only a sweatshirt (and pants) come March. But until then, I'm taking long showers and looking really dumpy with lots of goofy mismatched layers, socks and slippers.