-
Silly old blog.
Life has been relatively angst-free lately. That and I’ve been keeping busy. I’m only posting because I can feel the mold growing on this page. I figure I’d better put something up or you’ll all move on to bigger and brighter pastures. There are so many bigger and brighter blogs to read these days. If I weren’t so old and wise (ha ha) I’d hang up my hat and say phooey! I can’t compete. But I know it’s not about competition. I do this because when I don’t do it, I miss it. Silly old blog.
For no reason at all I’ve been thinking about turning 40.
I was looking at the photos that Angella posted of me the other day. I know they are beautiful pictures of a mother and her child but of course my vanity took over and I couldn’t see any farther than my dry frazzled hair and my hopelessly-genetic double chin. (Don’t go look. I’m not linking on purpose.) This got me to thinking about how I’ve fallen hard off the daily-walking bandwagon (must get back on that, stat) and how I’ve been sort of perturbed at my body lately. So there’s that.
But you know, I’m going to be 40 in four years. Middle age is here. I think I’m doing pretty good, considering.
-
Our Non-Thanksgiving Puddle-Jumping Adventures
I was about to type that today was the quietest most uneventful Thanksgiving I’ve ever had but that would be a complete lie. First, because Bug is NOT quiet or uneventful; second, because there was that one Thanksgiving where I cooked a complete dinner and then my drunken family members never showed up. Yeah. That thanksgiving was by far my WORST Thanksgiving ever.
Today was uneventful (not counting the half-dozen very exciting things Bug and I did) because we did not celebrate Thanksgiving. My dad and brother are truckers and we didn’t think they would make it home in time so we put off the big feast and festivities until this coming Sunday. We spent today quietly at home not eating turkey and not hanging out with family. It wasn’t so bad actually.
Even though we were not celebrating anything today, you could tell it was a holiday. Our usually bustling neighborhood was still and serene. It was eerily quiet. I could actually sit by my open window and not hear a car go by. That never happens.
We live behind a restaurant that sells ham and it’s been a madhouse there lately. We hate this time of year because the ham-buying customers take up all the free parking spots, they line up around the block and they litter. The ham-restaurant employees are even worse. They honk and bang and make a giant mess of the parking lot that is our main view. Their holiday help is especially bad and it’s not uncommon to see them lighting up a pot pipe, drinking a 40 or urinating on the wall behind the restaurant. I know. We should move. One of these years.
Anyway my post is not about them. It’s about Bug, of course. My silly little puddle-jumping Bug. We’ve been waiting all year for it to rain. She has rain boots and she knows how to use them. The only problem is there are hardly ever any puddles around here for her to jump in. She’s worn them in the ocean, she’s worn them in the kiddie pool but all she really wants to do is wear them in some puddles!
After last night’s rain, we figured there ought to be some puddles around somewhere. So off we went hunting for them. Of course, even though it was rainy in the morning, those puddles dried right up and took some serious searching.
Bug even made up a song to search for them by. The tune may be borrowed from something off tv but the words are a true Bug original. She’s my little songster. Everything has a song.
I guess the song worked because she found some puddles and she splashed and she splashed and she splashed. You could say those puddles got their butt kicked.
I can think of worse ways to spend the holiday.
