So here we are at the beginning of another week, this one filled with leftover chores from the weekend, and the end taken up by a two day orientation at my youngest daughter's soon to be home for the next four or five? years, her college.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for the orientation of something new such as a college, but for the students. The parents are supposed to attend two days of pertinent information as well. Two days!! This concerns me that professionals can't compact all this information in less than two days.
I could have stayed in a dorm, so I can get the idea of what our children will be experiencing in the fall or I can book a room, both cost money.
I'm not sure exactly what I will learn from this experience, but I dutifully booked a room, and paid for an orientation packet. I am still working on the paid part.
I will be staying in a motel, as I don't really need to experience the comfort of a single dorm bed, in a room shared by a stranger at my age.
I think my imagination is good enough to know how my daughter will be living, on campus at least for a year.
I will attend at least part of the activities scheduled for the parents, but unless they are something new and keep my attention, I plan on ducking out and checking out the small town this big university is located in.
By the way did I mention that this is my second go round at college visits.
The school won't really tell you the important things, like who a good car mechanic is, or if there is a 24 hour clinic for when the college infirmary is closed. Are there available stores, drugstores, for the necessities of the teenage girls?
Do they deliver pizza to the dorms for late night snacking, and how much money should our new students really have on hand for the incidentals that make up college life?
What they won't tell us is how to convince our daughters that they really do not need to bring everything in their closets. First they won't all fit in the dorm rooms, and secondly after a week or two goes by, the student will realize that sweat shirts and pants are a good match almost six days of the week.
Do they suggest thirty pair of underwear? We know how often laundry will be done...I have already had the duffle of dirty duds arrive for visits with my former college student.
Do they tell us to be taste testing for the best microwave popcorn, frozen snack, dry snack?
How much bottle water should I bring or will the walmart found in or near every college town have the essentials she will need?
They don't tell us that our student to be will require a new college sweatshirt from the bookstore, and a bumper sticker or windown decal...on this orientation weekend.
So I'm gathering my stuff for our excursion, leaving a list of pet duties for my students father who will be in charge of the two dogs and one cat we are leaving in his care, and we will be doing the "road" trip thing come Wednesday.
Ah yes, orientation..maybe I'll get that book finished I started a month ago after all.
Well it is only this year, but maybe someone could suggest these two words for next years orientation..."virtual tour".
Monday, June 20, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
What happened to letters
Before there was email, texting, twittering, and facebook, people had several options for communicating with friends and families. We used the phone or we wrote letters, sometimes we even sent a card to say hi!
I wrote letters.
I used to love to write letters. Some would be on notebook paper, some on stationery, some on home made paper from a favorite craft store. I had holiday paper, and paper in differents hues.
Letter writing for me was letting the recipient know I was thinking of them and nothing was more satisfying than folding those sheets of papers and sliding them into an envelope, soon to be addressed and stamped and taken to the post office.
My most faithful responder was my dear mother. When I moved away from my home town I could always count on at least one letter a week, usually more.
Some were full of family news and gatherings, some were just to say hi.
Bottom line it was the effort she took to write me a letter. I still remember the excitement of seeing that mail with my name handwritten on the face of the envelope and remember that they were almost always the small size and the notebook paper that would come from the drugstore purchased lined writing pad.
When my girls were young she would write them letters with little drawings to help them understand the text.
Some of my dear friends were also the recipients of my form of communication. I'd fill the pages with the goings on of my young family, trying always to keep the thoughts upbeat, and leave out the burdens young families have. Really, who wants to read bad or sad news all the time.
This isn't to say there weren't phone calls made on occassion, there were.
I found letter writing more to my liking as I felt freer to express my self and remembered more often the little things that made up my life.
I came to find out that some treasured my words and would reserve a special time when their children were sleeping or at school to make the cup of proverbial tea, sit back in their chair and read my letter. I must say I wss touched especially when the comment was often, how my writing was like I was talking to them.
I'm not sure when I stopped writing letters regularly. My Mom's death, put a halt to all letter writing for a while. Her loss was keenly felt and somehow even writing to friends wasn't the same. There would be no more letters from her in my mail, and the thought of that took my breath and ambition away.
After a while I would drop the occasional line to a friend. But things were changing. First came email. Not the same but kind of like a letter. Something wasn't quite the same. The length for one was shorter now. No more the equivalent of a least two doubled sided sheets, though didn't have as much news in my life as before. We emailed about our children aand our lives..but I noted that no bad news crept in those keyboarded thoughts.
Then even the emails became fewer as we all moved around the country. Our children had activities and sports, time was precious.
We still sent the Christmas cards with a little note inside. Our lives were changing and with the change came less communication.
Then it was I got busy, they got busy, and I received the occssional Christmas newsletter or a card with a few small photos of their children.
So here we are, I have reconnected to old friends and familiy members due to facebook. Not quite in the same way but we are catching up a bit at a time.
There is one friend I have who doesn't have a computer in her home, and doesn't seem to want them.
We spoke on the phone seveal months ago reminding me that our commuication had been sparse.
In fact I think I"ll end this here and pull out my word processing program and drop her a line. Sorry honey, the hands will cramp now but I'll use a flowing font, which you will be able to read. Yep I think I'll just do just that .
I wrote letters.
I used to love to write letters. Some would be on notebook paper, some on stationery, some on home made paper from a favorite craft store. I had holiday paper, and paper in differents hues.
Letter writing for me was letting the recipient know I was thinking of them and nothing was more satisfying than folding those sheets of papers and sliding them into an envelope, soon to be addressed and stamped and taken to the post office.
My most faithful responder was my dear mother. When I moved away from my home town I could always count on at least one letter a week, usually more.
Some were full of family news and gatherings, some were just to say hi.
Bottom line it was the effort she took to write me a letter. I still remember the excitement of seeing that mail with my name handwritten on the face of the envelope and remember that they were almost always the small size and the notebook paper that would come from the drugstore purchased lined writing pad.
When my girls were young she would write them letters with little drawings to help them understand the text.
Some of my dear friends were also the recipients of my form of communication. I'd fill the pages with the goings on of my young family, trying always to keep the thoughts upbeat, and leave out the burdens young families have. Really, who wants to read bad or sad news all the time.
This isn't to say there weren't phone calls made on occassion, there were.
I found letter writing more to my liking as I felt freer to express my self and remembered more often the little things that made up my life.
I came to find out that some treasured my words and would reserve a special time when their children were sleeping or at school to make the cup of proverbial tea, sit back in their chair and read my letter. I must say I wss touched especially when the comment was often, how my writing was like I was talking to them.
I'm not sure when I stopped writing letters regularly. My Mom's death, put a halt to all letter writing for a while. Her loss was keenly felt and somehow even writing to friends wasn't the same. There would be no more letters from her in my mail, and the thought of that took my breath and ambition away.
After a while I would drop the occasional line to a friend. But things were changing. First came email. Not the same but kind of like a letter. Something wasn't quite the same. The length for one was shorter now. No more the equivalent of a least two doubled sided sheets, though didn't have as much news in my life as before. We emailed about our children aand our lives..but I noted that no bad news crept in those keyboarded thoughts.
Then even the emails became fewer as we all moved around the country. Our children had activities and sports, time was precious.
We still sent the Christmas cards with a little note inside. Our lives were changing and with the change came less communication.
Then it was I got busy, they got busy, and I received the occssional Christmas newsletter or a card with a few small photos of their children.
So here we are, I have reconnected to old friends and familiy members due to facebook. Not quite in the same way but we are catching up a bit at a time.
There is one friend I have who doesn't have a computer in her home, and doesn't seem to want them.
We spoke on the phone seveal months ago reminding me that our commuication had been sparse.
In fact I think I"ll end this here and pull out my word processing program and drop her a line. Sorry honey, the hands will cramp now but I'll use a flowing font, which you will be able to read. Yep I think I'll just do just that .
Saturday, June 11, 2011
not a repeat week, please
Just a short thought today, as I am preparing to work at our food concession at a local festival. Not my choice, but by necessity.
I just had a particularly bad week, as far as bad goes for me. I'm generally pretty thick skinned and either let incidents slide off my back like water slides off a duck, or let nasty words go in one ear, and out the other. The second one takes a little skill. You have to hear it, process it, decide if it's important enough to rate on your personal one to ten scale, and then let it go out the other ear. Of course this generally occurs in less than thirty seconds.
However I also have a personal rule for myself that a person is only allowed to break the ten scale three times in our relationship. It takes a lot to hit my number ten.
Someone hit the ten this week for the third time.
Something has to change.
I just had a particularly bad week, as far as bad goes for me. I'm generally pretty thick skinned and either let incidents slide off my back like water slides off a duck, or let nasty words go in one ear, and out the other. The second one takes a little skill. You have to hear it, process it, decide if it's important enough to rate on your personal one to ten scale, and then let it go out the other ear. Of course this generally occurs in less than thirty seconds.
However I also have a personal rule for myself that a person is only allowed to break the ten scale three times in our relationship. It takes a lot to hit my number ten.
Someone hit the ten this week for the third time.
Something has to change.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Moving up Day
Today I attended a tradition that is played out annually at my youngest daughter's high school. I have attended just four of these events, and probably will not attend another unless they ask me to speak or I win a lottery and start a scholarship fund.
This event is called "Moving Up Day", and it is held approximately one week before HS graduation, usually at the football field, and for some reason it always seems to be unseasonably warm and sunny, at least the four times I have attended.
It basically entails watching the Junior class and the Senior class enter the stadium and sit on hot aluminum chairs in summery frocks, and unfortunately for the boys, long sleeve shirts and ties.
Then we hear the speeches, and once again I wonder how someone can become a very well paid principal and still seem to have some public speaking issues. We hear the president of the current class, and the Saluatarian give a speech, some good, some just so so, causing one to ponder the education our students have just received over the past twelve years. But I digress. They are just young adults, speaking perhaps for the first time to such a large audience, and with so, so equipment, which is providing us all with just a little echo, I'm guessing in case we missed something the first round we can try to catch it slighty time delayed.
What all the parents, friends, and various fans of those students sitting on those hot metal chairs are waiting for of course are the scholarships and awards which are announced at this afternoon celebration.
There are many scholarships and awards, in varying amounts. Some I have heard of and some have been sought out by the students themselves, applied for and won. Pretty good for a bunch of eighteen year olds.
The second one I attended, I was very surprised and pleased to hear my oldest daughters name called several times. Grades, merit, need and the fact that she actually applied for the scholarships make a lot of difference. I was also surprised at the students I thought should have received some sort of stipend, only to be left sitting on those hot chairs.
Ah there was that tricky part, the students actually have to apply for these awards, and not all the students are in the loop enough to realize this fact. There are no announcements or flyers, they are just supposed to know. After all the guidance office is swamped, and individual attention is rare unless there is trouble...I know this because I have called the guidance office on occasion.
So today I sat for around two hours, turning pinker, due to the lack of sunscreen, and watched and applauded all the recipients, and the speakers, knowing that my youngest daughter would not be called up to receive any awards today. She after all knew about the route to follow but for whatever reason did not follow through on the submission of said scholarships applications. Perhaps she thought her grades were not up to snuff, or had other reasons.
Thats okay though, she will just have more student loans to repay after she finishes college. Her choice.
So this will be my last Moving Up Day, and although I have previously felt that familiar lump, when the seniors in an extremely orderly fashion leave their seats, and go to lower the flag, while the Junior class then takes the ceremonial Senior position, that lump was missing today. Maybe it was the heat or maybe my age, I am an "older" parent, who is meeting her goal mmade almost 19 years ago of not being in a wheel chair when her youngest graduates.
But I do wish the class of 2011 all the best as they pursue their next steps whether it will be college, the military, work, or (lordy please no) settling down and starting a family. It is tough times right now, making the right choice on which path to follow could determine how at least part of their adult lives will turn out.
My baby is not any more, nor her friends. Perhaps this is the first time I have looked at them in this way. Young adults, starting yet another chapter of their lives.
Now where did I put that aloe.
This event is called "Moving Up Day", and it is held approximately one week before HS graduation, usually at the football field, and for some reason it always seems to be unseasonably warm and sunny, at least the four times I have attended.
It basically entails watching the Junior class and the Senior class enter the stadium and sit on hot aluminum chairs in summery frocks, and unfortunately for the boys, long sleeve shirts and ties.
Then we hear the speeches, and once again I wonder how someone can become a very well paid principal and still seem to have some public speaking issues. We hear the president of the current class, and the Saluatarian give a speech, some good, some just so so, causing one to ponder the education our students have just received over the past twelve years. But I digress. They are just young adults, speaking perhaps for the first time to such a large audience, and with so, so equipment, which is providing us all with just a little echo, I'm guessing in case we missed something the first round we can try to catch it slighty time delayed.
What all the parents, friends, and various fans of those students sitting on those hot metal chairs are waiting for of course are the scholarships and awards which are announced at this afternoon celebration.
There are many scholarships and awards, in varying amounts. Some I have heard of and some have been sought out by the students themselves, applied for and won. Pretty good for a bunch of eighteen year olds.
The second one I attended, I was very surprised and pleased to hear my oldest daughters name called several times. Grades, merit, need and the fact that she actually applied for the scholarships make a lot of difference. I was also surprised at the students I thought should have received some sort of stipend, only to be left sitting on those hot chairs.
Ah there was that tricky part, the students actually have to apply for these awards, and not all the students are in the loop enough to realize this fact. There are no announcements or flyers, they are just supposed to know. After all the guidance office is swamped, and individual attention is rare unless there is trouble...I know this because I have called the guidance office on occasion.
So today I sat for around two hours, turning pinker, due to the lack of sunscreen, and watched and applauded all the recipients, and the speakers, knowing that my youngest daughter would not be called up to receive any awards today. She after all knew about the route to follow but for whatever reason did not follow through on the submission of said scholarships applications. Perhaps she thought her grades were not up to snuff, or had other reasons.
Thats okay though, she will just have more student loans to repay after she finishes college. Her choice.
So this will be my last Moving Up Day, and although I have previously felt that familiar lump, when the seniors in an extremely orderly fashion leave their seats, and go to lower the flag, while the Junior class then takes the ceremonial Senior position, that lump was missing today. Maybe it was the heat or maybe my age, I am an "older" parent, who is meeting her goal mmade almost 19 years ago of not being in a wheel chair when her youngest graduates.
But I do wish the class of 2011 all the best as they pursue their next steps whether it will be college, the military, work, or (lordy please no) settling down and starting a family. It is tough times right now, making the right choice on which path to follow could determine how at least part of their adult lives will turn out.
My baby is not any more, nor her friends. Perhaps this is the first time I have looked at them in this way. Young adults, starting yet another chapter of their lives.
Now where did I put that aloe.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Who decided on ruffles?
Sunday morning found my daughter and I at a non local mall to find what couldn't be found locally.
Having been referred by no less than two different sources that I would indeed be able to find what I was looking for, I was feeling pretty darn comfortable that I would be heading out with a bag in my hand. By the way, my daughter never seems to have this issue.
I was dropped off at the entrance at the large anchor store, while she parked, as it takes me longer to shop, and she was heading to a few of her favorite places.
Knowing that this would be a piece of cake I confidently made my way to the proper department, but why could I not find the brand I was looking for. Why did all the pants seem to have two inch zippers, or the below the waist designation? I flagged down a sales associate, they seem to like that better than sales clerk, and she led my to the area I was seeking. But wait..why were there only ten pair of the pants I was searching for on the rack and none of the ones in the style I really wanted.
Was I not told by no less than the manufacturer that this was the place to go in my search?
Unable to find what I had come for,and composing a strongly worded letter of complaint in my head, I then decided to spend a bit of time looking at other options. Wait, where did the womens dept. go? Shouldn't it be next to the womens' pants? So I flagged yet another of the associates down and she pointed to the far end of the store, the department I was seeking was in a new location. They had moved the junior sizes to a convenient spot, forcing us of the mature age to walk the length of the store, just to browsed the more mature fashions.
Already becoming a bit disgruntled, and remembering why I like shopping online, I started looking at the clothing that some designers decided we of a mature age would like to wear. I was feeling a bit of a flashback to the sixties and seventies as I looked, as the majority of the selections were definitely retro in style, just more expensive. The preponderance of ruffles and frills on the blouses took me aback. After all ruffles were something that I may have worn while I was a toddler, but those days were long gone.
It also occurred to me that in these times of thrift, what we are looking for are garments that can be washed, dried and worn, without an iron touching the said garment. I dare anyone to pull a ruffled shirt out of the washer and hung on a hanger to dry (manufacturers recommendation) or out of the dryer, and put it on without an iron straightening the ruffles.
After a few conversations with other shoppers with the same glazed look of disgust in their eyes, I found I was not alone in my thinking of "who decided mature women should wear ruffles and beads, or sequins on their everyday clothes? Who decided that the favorite fit should have a two inch zipper or be below the navel. Maybe once in my teens and twenties, but certainly not now as I edge into my sixth decade.
So I opted to leave the big anchor store, and head to meet my daughter, who as I suspected did have shopping bags in her hand.
So buyers of the womens departments, whether you are employed by a big chain store, or a smaller specialty shop, maybe the 70% sale racks wouldn't be so crammed if you just actually went to a mall and sat on a bench for a bit and watched who is going into the store. It might be an eye opening experience for you. If not, I think I know someone who might be able to do a better job.
Having been referred by no less than two different sources that I would indeed be able to find what I was looking for, I was feeling pretty darn comfortable that I would be heading out with a bag in my hand. By the way, my daughter never seems to have this issue.
I was dropped off at the entrance at the large anchor store, while she parked, as it takes me longer to shop, and she was heading to a few of her favorite places.
Knowing that this would be a piece of cake I confidently made my way to the proper department, but why could I not find the brand I was looking for. Why did all the pants seem to have two inch zippers, or the below the waist designation? I flagged down a sales associate, they seem to like that better than sales clerk, and she led my to the area I was seeking. But wait..why were there only ten pair of the pants I was searching for on the rack and none of the ones in the style I really wanted.
Was I not told by no less than the manufacturer that this was the place to go in my search?
Unable to find what I had come for,and composing a strongly worded letter of complaint in my head, I then decided to spend a bit of time looking at other options. Wait, where did the womens dept. go? Shouldn't it be next to the womens' pants? So I flagged yet another of the associates down and she pointed to the far end of the store, the department I was seeking was in a new location. They had moved the junior sizes to a convenient spot, forcing us of the mature age to walk the length of the store, just to browsed the more mature fashions.
Already becoming a bit disgruntled, and remembering why I like shopping online, I started looking at the clothing that some designers decided we of a mature age would like to wear. I was feeling a bit of a flashback to the sixties and seventies as I looked, as the majority of the selections were definitely retro in style, just more expensive. The preponderance of ruffles and frills on the blouses took me aback. After all ruffles were something that I may have worn while I was a toddler, but those days were long gone.
It also occurred to me that in these times of thrift, what we are looking for are garments that can be washed, dried and worn, without an iron touching the said garment. I dare anyone to pull a ruffled shirt out of the washer and hung on a hanger to dry (manufacturers recommendation) or out of the dryer, and put it on without an iron straightening the ruffles.
After a few conversations with other shoppers with the same glazed look of disgust in their eyes, I found I was not alone in my thinking of "who decided mature women should wear ruffles and beads, or sequins on their everyday clothes? Who decided that the favorite fit should have a two inch zipper or be below the navel. Maybe once in my teens and twenties, but certainly not now as I edge into my sixth decade.
So I opted to leave the big anchor store, and head to meet my daughter, who as I suspected did have shopping bags in her hand.
So buyers of the womens departments, whether you are employed by a big chain store, or a smaller specialty shop, maybe the 70% sale racks wouldn't be so crammed if you just actually went to a mall and sat on a bench for a bit and watched who is going into the store. It might be an eye opening experience for you. If not, I think I know someone who might be able to do a better job.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Holiday weekend?
While the rest of country or what seems like the rest of the country prepares for the traditional beginning of summer, Memorial Day Weekend, I realize that once again I have no plans made.
Instead I am looking forward to catching up on some reading, some chores, and intend on cleaning off my desk, the latter being an resolution, not of the new year variety, more the omg I can't live like this anymore type. Not a lot of plans, but mine, and I like the empty spots I left. As I get older, I like empty spots.
The weather seems iffy, but shouldn't influence my plans, none of which are dependent on weather.
Good thing for empty spots, several of them are taken by errands left undone by my spouse before he departed for the weekend. Taking back roads, to avoid the inevitable holiday traffic that descends in my neck of the woods, I accomplish the said errands with the knowledge that they were not crucial but for whatever reason necessary to be done, after all,"you aren't doing anything anyway." I really hate those words, but once again let them fall off like water off a duck.
Then one of the spots is taken up by dealing with a flat tire on a rental car,that we have, courtesy of an insurance compnay. This turned into a longer than necessary spot, as I dealt with no less than four calls to resolve one flat tire. What happened to the days when you could just call and get a person, a person who actually knew what they were talking about. Sorry, this is a pet peeve of mine, which I will go into at another time.
Well I figure, I will still have time to read a bit and do some personal stuff. Sure I will. My daughter comes home from her part time job, which she dislikes, but keeps, as after all we read that 3 out of four teenagers will not find a summer job, and she has had hers for almost two years, so she goes grumbling out into the world.
She comes home with complaints of an oncoming cold or allergy and can I go to the store to get her OTC remedies, no one likes feeling under the weather, but this dear daughter really hates it, and after all she has "plans". I sense another spot slipping away, but I go because I am after all the mom, and moms do that sort of thing.
Sunday brings with it a full blown, I am going to bed, I think I have a fever teenage daughter. Okay so I feel bad after all she is sick and I am her mom and designate a few more spots to her needs. In the back of my mind I sense my weekend slipping away, my personal chores left undone, my back mail and paperwork unread. To add to the day, it gets hot, and sticky. So I relent and turn on the loudest air conditioner on earth, to get some relief.
A phone call sucks away my final free spots, and it is then I realize that next year, God willing I am going to make plans, for shopping,or for a picnic, or a visit with friends, over the weekend that heralds my least favorite season of the year. This year the weekend of no plans became the weekend of everyone elses plans, and that isn't really what I had in mind.
Instead I am looking forward to catching up on some reading, some chores, and intend on cleaning off my desk, the latter being an resolution, not of the new year variety, more the omg I can't live like this anymore type. Not a lot of plans, but mine, and I like the empty spots I left. As I get older, I like empty spots.
The weather seems iffy, but shouldn't influence my plans, none of which are dependent on weather.
Good thing for empty spots, several of them are taken by errands left undone by my spouse before he departed for the weekend. Taking back roads, to avoid the inevitable holiday traffic that descends in my neck of the woods, I accomplish the said errands with the knowledge that they were not crucial but for whatever reason necessary to be done, after all,"you aren't doing anything anyway." I really hate those words, but once again let them fall off like water off a duck.
Then one of the spots is taken up by dealing with a flat tire on a rental car,that we have, courtesy of an insurance compnay. This turned into a longer than necessary spot, as I dealt with no less than four calls to resolve one flat tire. What happened to the days when you could just call and get a person, a person who actually knew what they were talking about. Sorry, this is a pet peeve of mine, which I will go into at another time.
Well I figure, I will still have time to read a bit and do some personal stuff. Sure I will. My daughter comes home from her part time job, which she dislikes, but keeps, as after all we read that 3 out of four teenagers will not find a summer job, and she has had hers for almost two years, so she goes grumbling out into the world.
She comes home with complaints of an oncoming cold or allergy and can I go to the store to get her OTC remedies, no one likes feeling under the weather, but this dear daughter really hates it, and after all she has "plans". I sense another spot slipping away, but I go because I am after all the mom, and moms do that sort of thing.
Sunday brings with it a full blown, I am going to bed, I think I have a fever teenage daughter. Okay so I feel bad after all she is sick and I am her mom and designate a few more spots to her needs. In the back of my mind I sense my weekend slipping away, my personal chores left undone, my back mail and paperwork unread. To add to the day, it gets hot, and sticky. So I relent and turn on the loudest air conditioner on earth, to get some relief.
A phone call sucks away my final free spots, and it is then I realize that next year, God willing I am going to make plans, for shopping,or for a picnic, or a visit with friends, over the weekend that heralds my least favorite season of the year. This year the weekend of no plans became the weekend of everyone elses plans, and that isn't really what I had in mind.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Mondays should be banned
I am embarassed that it has been so long since I visited this page. Don't know exactly what happened that caused me to neglect my blog for almost a month. It is down right humbling that I would start out with such great expectations and fumble the ball.
It's like I have had a month of Mondays. Days when either I am so busy the thought of sitting down for a few minutes and actually writing instead of pushing the mouse to check a "like" on facebook. just doesn't happen.
Then there are the nights when I create an error and sit on the loveseat or sofa, which inevitably means I will be catnapping in approximately three minutes flat, regardless of what is on the tube or what is happening around me.
It isn't just soft furniture though... I can fall asleep in an upright position in my substitute desk chair with the hard back and the pillow under my rear.
Excuses, excuses, I have a million of them .
Thing is that I just haven't been feeling very creative, and being down in the dumps is not a motivation for me. It doesn't make for a good read either.
I am sucking it up now though...still in a stinko mood, but hey life happens.
In the past month there have been appointments, and proms, and SAT reservations made.
My anniversary and Mothers Day have filled in the calendar as well.
Friend children have graduated college, and birthdays have passed.
So there has been plenty of topics to take advantage of and pass a few paragraphs on, but no excuse, just haven't raally felt like writing.
So I have made a promise to myself that I have to write something that I would like to read, at least once a week.
And I am going to put Monday back in it's place, just a day of the week that ends in Y.
It's like I have had a month of Mondays. Days when either I am so busy the thought of sitting down for a few minutes and actually writing instead of pushing the mouse to check a "like" on facebook. just doesn't happen.
Then there are the nights when I create an error and sit on the loveseat or sofa, which inevitably means I will be catnapping in approximately three minutes flat, regardless of what is on the tube or what is happening around me.
It isn't just soft furniture though... I can fall asleep in an upright position in my substitute desk chair with the hard back and the pillow under my rear.
Excuses, excuses, I have a million of them .
Thing is that I just haven't been feeling very creative, and being down in the dumps is not a motivation for me. It doesn't make for a good read either.
I am sucking it up now though...still in a stinko mood, but hey life happens.
In the past month there have been appointments, and proms, and SAT reservations made.
My anniversary and Mothers Day have filled in the calendar as well.
Friend children have graduated college, and birthdays have passed.
So there has been plenty of topics to take advantage of and pass a few paragraphs on, but no excuse, just haven't raally felt like writing.
So I have made a promise to myself that I have to write something that I would like to read, at least once a week.
And I am going to put Monday back in it's place, just a day of the week that ends in Y.
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