Weekly Ramblings

It’s amusing to listen to Arizonans talk about mosquitos during monsoon season.  Obviously, they have never been to the midwest in the summer.

Parenthood is your kid telling you to turn off Pandora so he can watch Sing! (but with only half an eye) while he (loudly) tunes his violin.  If only they told new parents this during the hospital discharge class.

Parenthood is also finding lone dirty socks all over the house.  Most recently behind the couch cushions.

I love school uniforms.

I’m missing Petaluma tonight.

Dogs should come with a shedding rating.  Lucy would be off the charts with this side-note “Her black coat is glossy as a mirror but she sheds so much it’s amazing she has fur on her body.”  Monkey would barely be on the chart with his “simply glorious golden beach waves.”  {Seriously he really does have glorious beach waves.}

The Terrible Twos have nothing on Ten.  Nothing.

A new pack of razors makes me as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning.  Not sure what that says about the amount of fun I have going on in my life.

(My) Truth:  “Outer order brings inner calm.”  Also, less dog hair to sweep up would bring utter tranquility.

I painted our kitchen island “Opera Glasses” teal tonight.  I naively expect paint to have some life transforming quality to it.  Perhaps one day I’ll remember life and paint don’t work this way.

This week has been long and exhausting and I don’t know why.  Here’s to a relaxing 48 hours ahead before we do it all over again.

We’re back in school here and it’s great.  This girl loves routine.  As much as I love summer afternoons at the pool, I love school year afternoons full of structure.

Beau wants a debit card. I’m not sure what he thinks he’s going to fund his checking account with.

Shane and I talked in passing about not eating meat certain days of the week.  He suggested Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday.  That’s all fine and good until I start  menu planning and put breakfast for dinner on Thursday.  How do you have pancakes and eggs without bacon?  And moving that dinner to Friday just seems like an easy out. {I know, I know, molehill to mountain…}

I think we are all so lucky. Really. Even on bad days, we’re pretty lucky in life.

I often wonder what goes on in my house.  Like what’s the deal with triple AA batteries, an unplugged multiple device charger, and numerous toothbrushes in Beau’s bathroom?

The Trois Couleurs soundtrack finally making it to Spotify makes me ridiculously happy.

I’m (still) striving to read my paper books.  I have so many that beg to be read. But I just bought Gwendy’s Button Box for my Kindle.  In my defense, I had an e-book credit to use within 2 hours.  I suppose this will be my eternal struggle.

I’m praying we can do our backyard soon.  I’m so done with all the dust that gets tracked in from our lovely lot of dirt.

Beau’s current musical obsession: “Death of a Bachelor” by Panic! At the Disco.  It’s amusing to hear him get so into singing it.  (But only the first and second, and maybe third times.)  However, whenever I hear it I always think of Barry Manilow, and Lola and Tony and Rico at the Copacabana.

I wish gray skies equaled cool temps.  Mother Nature is such a trickster.

Here’s to the weekend!

What do you do when you’re not quite 10-year-old son is almost as tall as you? Within inches. I may or may not have to stand on tippy toes to kiss the top of his head.

We can fly off into space and land on the moon, yet no one has created shatterproof phone “glass.”  Maybe a first-world problem, but still legitimate.

However the whole phone hitting the metal drawer pull experience hasn’t been all that bad.  It’s liberating putting the phone on the back burner.  {And it will be a different kind of liberating when it’s back to being good as new.}

I think the speed of life is crazy.

I also think that over all the many, many years not much has changed.  The scenery has changed, the stage has changed, and the players have changed.  But the characters? The characters haven’t changed.

I’m not quite giving up on the idea of tacos for dinner.  Every single night.

Sometimes I feel like 10 is the new 15 and I don’t know where 38 stands.

The older I get the more I crave silence.  I’m finally realizing I need it for my own health and brain function.

I have a really good memory for weird facts and numbers and specific things.  But I swear I cannot remember a thing about Beau’s babyhood and toddlerhood.  It’s a blur and then some.  Almost like I was watching those years looking in from the outside.

Summer in Arizona is a long season of heat advisory after heat advisory.  Every day Beau asks me why anyone would decide to move to here. Every day I’m not sure what to tell him.

Maybe you can’t force creativity.  But you can force documenting the days, and that’s good enough for me.