My alarm* did not go off this morning. Instead, my nine-year-old tapped me and said, “I think we need to get up, it’s pretty light outside.” I opened my eyes and, “crap!” Fifteen minutes to get my 12 year old kid out the door. “Double crap.” I promised home-made french toast and bacon…

Moments later, while imitating an octopus with the superpowers of Elastigirl; I stepped through a sandy-feeling-something.

I thought, “what-the?” and resisted the urge to inspect. The second time, I paused and looked longingly at the broom closet… and then the clock. The third time, I looked around, saw my flip-flops, slipped them on my feet and continued with breakfast.

By some minor miracle, that included the nine-year-old in charge of clock management, and my 12 year old eating cereal (because her bus comes as the ass-crack of dawn – aka: before 7am), all children got to school, ON TIME, fed, with lunches in hand! And, I got to my workout on time, (almost).

Sure, I might have pulled into car line at precisely three minutes before the late bell. My son may or may not have jumped out of the close-enough to stopped car; tucked, rolled and ran into the school.** But, let’s not get caught up in details. The point is:

Up. Out. Fed. Lunches packed. ON TIME!

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • wickedsexysmart
  • Print Friendly

The amount of willpower required to NOT get a broom and clean that sandy-feeling-something underfoot was, to me, the equivalent of licking to the center of a Tootsie Pop.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • wickedsexysmart
  • Print Friendly

If you are chill with the sensation of walking through “what-the-hell-is-all-over-the-floor?” you are absolutely not going to understand my princess & the pea like foot to floor sensitivity. Sand, dirt, food, crumbs, leaves, dried grass… sticky patches of spilled juice, syrup, jelly… melting ice cubes, water, – pretty much everything that a family with four kids and four pets is going to have on the floor five minutes after it has been mopped*** – Gross… just ewww between my toes.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • wickedsexysmart
  • Print Friendly

Until… flip-flops.

This morning when I diverted my attention away from the “what-the-hell-got-all-over-the-floor-while-I-was-sleeping/sandy-feeling-something?” I didn’t think about what I was doing. I just did. Several hours later, I realized that, for me, putting on shoes to ignore a dirty floor was just so, “never in a million years.” Except, a million years was apparently today.

I’m not sure whether I’ve sunken to an entirely new low or if I should high five myself for ingenuity.

However, I’m pretty sure a high-five is in order.

I haven’t blogged in nine freaking months!! Nine suitcase-full-of-cocaine-and-concubine-of-college-football-players-busted-at-the-border** freaking months. Months that I’d love to have zapped out of reality. Months of writing that is mostly too personal**** or somber to share.

Humor hasn’t held long enough to document. I start writing, get interrupted, and I’m just… over it. Like a lightning bug on a summer night; inspiration flits in for a smile, a laugh, and then, slips away.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • wickedsexysmart
  • Print Friendly

I tried to tell myself to, “just do a book review… just post a top-ten-whatever list… just start with a Jack Nicholson, “I’M BA-ACK!! But, after being absent for an extended period, I felt compelled to re-emerge with something amazing. Until flip-flops.

Strange as it may sound, the flip-flop coping skill led me to the certainty that the posting of something was more important than what I posted. Why not start again with an utterly, & spectacularly unspectacular topic. Because… rip the band-aide off y’all.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • wickedsexysmart
  • Print Friendly

I’m BA-ACK!

(I’m not even going to edit until tomorrow. Cut, print, wrap. I’ve got my flip-flops on.)

Well, yeah, of course I did edit, a little. I reunited myself with a little HTML formatting code. Not fun. Not: “play-with-words-and-make-shit-awesome-editing,” and certainly not “try-to-sound-moderately-intelligent-and-like-I-know-grammar” editing. No, what I did was more in the ballpark of, “want-to-punch-something-in-the-throat!What-the-hell-kitty-is-going-on-in-this-theme?-more-wine.-Seriously.-MORE.-WINE. editing.

Two days later: There is a reason I “play-with-words-and-make-shit-awesome-editing,” and “try-to-sound-moderately-intelligent-and-like-I-know-grammar” edit. I wish I could go around with a mind erase stick and make people unread and un-see the original mind-dump and formatting. Plus thank God for the last day of school. And also: this is why I don’t multi-task when writing…


* By “alarm clock,” I mean my husband, and by “go-off” I mean get up and do the morning routine without me (stupid business travel).

**If you actually thought that my son jumped out of a moving car and started his day as the BEST third-grade stunt boy EVER… he didn’t.

No
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • wickedsexysmart
  • Print Friendly
But the imagery is bad-ass.

Besides, I’m sure he would prefer my enhanced story as opposed to reality:
I pulled to a stop, he kissed me good-bye and the door was opened for him by a teacher… and THEN he ran.

***My children have an acute spinal dysfunction that inhibits bending and reaching toward the floor. Anything that hits the floor is dead to them. Unless it’s candy. They bend at the waist for candy. (Slow people: Refer to **above)

****Get to a window – there are pigs flying somewhere. Yes, I did say too personal. That’s sort of a big deal if you know me. Over-sharing is like, my thing.


Got this for my husband – wicked awesome sound!