My daughter saw an ad in the local newspaper advertising for a cubby reporter for a small town about thirty miles from here. Her enthusiasm was infectious as I thought about my days working for newspapers and regional magazines.
"Mom you would actually have a paying job!'she stated.
I actually considered it, for about 10 min. and drove my husband crazy. The thought of having a byline again was intriguing, but then a quick reminder from my husband about how much an article was worth, immediately shutdown any thoughts of responding to the ad.
You see, I'm past the point most moms stay home. Sometime around 3rd grade most parents shift back into what my kids call "real work". With my big mouth, and frequently expressed opinions combined with a bad arm... I don't do well at the average job. I don't do well with the role of June Cleaver either.
I don't cook, don't do laundry, so like my kids often ask, what do I do while they are away? Sometimes questions are better left unanswered. Maybe I really am a spy with a bionic arm that beats away the bad guys, all without breaking a sweat or missing a lunch date.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Killer Sleeping Pills...Public beware!
A Senator in D.C. got away with a hit and run, thousands report themselves eating at night, and others don't even remember having "relations" with spouses. So why then should I be surprised that I too would fall prey to the horrible effects of a sleeping pill?
Honestly, I have done the binge eating and cooking in the middle of the night (luckily my husband caught me before I burned the house down), sleepwalking, yeah got that too, but two nights ago I got a new side effect of sleeping pills: sleep writing! Public beware!
Now before you yawn and click away into another part of the web, read, or try to, the CarlsbadCaverns posting. My first attempt at writing while not being awake. (It's around three a.m. currently..so how do I describe this posting...maybe I just need a better sleeping pill!)
Seriously, my daughter and I were walking by my office when I had a brief recollection about writing something. I told my 11-yr-old daughter this, and though she too was used to me sleepwalking thought me sleep writing was hysterical. She pictured me as Zombie like arms stretched straight out, fingers just dropping from my wrist as I wrote. Wrote what?
The previous posting. What its about...well even I'm not sure....but I will leave it listed in case I ever need to get away with something purely evil I will have an excuse. (Yeah, right)
A reasonable excuse will come in handy in about a month when once again I am thrown into the carpool lane of two different schools. Hopefully this year no one will get hurt!
Honestly, I have done the binge eating and cooking in the middle of the night (luckily my husband caught me before I burned the house down), sleepwalking, yeah got that too, but two nights ago I got a new side effect of sleeping pills: sleep writing! Public beware!
Now before you yawn and click away into another part of the web, read, or try to, the CarlsbadCaverns posting. My first attempt at writing while not being awake. (It's around three a.m. currently..so how do I describe this posting...maybe I just need a better sleeping pill!)
Seriously, my daughter and I were walking by my office when I had a brief recollection about writing something. I told my 11-yr-old daughter this, and though she too was used to me sleepwalking thought me sleep writing was hysterical. She pictured me as Zombie like arms stretched straight out, fingers just dropping from my wrist as I wrote. Wrote what?
The previous posting. What its about...well even I'm not sure....but I will leave it listed in case I ever need to get away with something purely evil I will have an excuse. (Yeah, right)
A reasonable excuse will come in handy in about a month when once again I am thrown into the carpool lane of two different schools. Hopefully this year no one will get hurt!
Monday, July 23, 2012
Carlsbad Caverns and other "Distractions"
I went on a journey these past months that wasn't planned. In order to sidestep a crater I fell into a hole that while beautiful, and unending in depth, the climb out was fraught with fallen trees, bats, flesh biting insects and the loss of one of my traveling companions. It wasn't his choice to be flying solo across the country; but without any other income sometimes your choices are already chosen before they are presented to you.
I have reached the surface of the hole and when looking down on it from my wheelchair, I have to stand and see if that hole that encapsulated me for so long was really that minuscule! I stand up, a blessing that is still offered to me and once again look at the hole only this time it is hard to even call it a hole, more like a simple innocuous break in the sandy land that surrounds the area.
Free from its boundaries, and my own I will write to tell more of a different journey. The journey of loss, holding down the fort while my better half travels to places I will never see, the sight of watching my oldest son stretch out his raven like wings to begin his own journey, and last the knowledge that with each day the person who has raised me and then 6 others will slowly forget my existence.
Sometimes a pit is meant to take you away and let you wallow and bemoan your existence. Other times the pit opens up to a hidden treasure of perfectly formed rocks made from million of years of being dripped on, one drop at a time. Each person has to decide what to do when a pit has incapsulated them. Most will step over the small hole and never even know of its existence.
I have reached the surface of the hole and when looking down on it from my wheelchair, I have to stand and see if that hole that encapsulated me for so long was really that minuscule! I stand up, a blessing that is still offered to me and once again look at the hole only this time it is hard to even call it a hole, more like a simple innocuous break in the sandy land that surrounds the area.
Free from its boundaries, and my own I will write to tell more of a different journey. The journey of loss, holding down the fort while my better half travels to places I will never see, the sight of watching my oldest son stretch out his raven like wings to begin his own journey, and last the knowledge that with each day the person who has raised me and then 6 others will slowly forget my existence.
Sometimes a pit is meant to take you away and let you wallow and bemoan your existence. Other times the pit opens up to a hidden treasure of perfectly formed rocks made from million of years of being dripped on, one drop at a time. Each person has to decide what to do when a pit has incapsulated them. Most will step over the small hole and never even know of its existence.
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