(More about my Blue Figgy later. *grin*)
When I fill the car, with gas, I love to watch the little red stick float to "full" and if it goes a bit passed "full" I immediately calculate how soon I could be in Oregon, with my mom. Twenty hours. This morning my cash did not go as far and the indicator read just below "full." I did not get that excited road trip! compulsion, which is just as well, because today my mom is on her way here.
When I drive north on the I15 I have to resist the urge to keep driving.
Turn east on the I70, continuing through Colorado.
Aim for Dubuque, Iowa.
Continue into Wisconsin.
If the children are with me it's even more tempting.
If the children and Geoff are with me the temptation is magnified and I say aloud, "We could drive to Wisconsin," as though it were a natural option. Then I mentally assess our preparedness. Will there be snow? Can someone feed the cats and Betty, Joe? Won't Grandma be surprised?
(Soquel has an "Ugly Mug." I made my ugly mug in school. I was twelve.)
Yesterday I was three places at once. Just about. Normally I would take great pleasure in recording every stop and errand and detour, so I could feel satisfied that I accomplished a lot, but somehow I am not in the mood.
Warren says funny things in the comments and I always mean to reply, but then I don't. A lot of comments do not have a reply email, which is just one of the obstacles I face. The other obstacles include being easily distracted, having four children, and solar flares.
To all the funny, supportive, interesting, kind, friendly readers of Chickenblog: I am sorry if I have not replied to Your comments. I love Your comments.
This is the way I type
(Remind me that my Western Sunset book is in the box marked "books-garden
Maria has been working on a surprise for me.
She has kept this secret for a week.
It is exhausting to keep a secret that long, not for her, for me.
I cannot go into the garage and I cannot peek in her journal, which she keeps in the refrigerator.
When she has her journal out she brings it to me and asks me to not look in it.
She needs me to prepare the last part of this surprise by "quilting fabric for the surprise."
Then she panics and asks me, "Do you know what the surprise is?"
I know to answer, "No, I do not know what the surprise is."
Even though she has blurted twice today about the boat, I know to say, "I do not know what the surprise is."
"But didn't you hear me say it was a "boat?"" And then she panics again, having let the boat slip.
So, I look confused and excuse myself and say, "I'm sorry, I cannot hear you, because I had fluff in my ear."
She sighs with relief.
Later she asks me for a glass of lemonade. And when I don't respond in two seconds, I hear her go to her daddy.
"Daddy, can I please have some lemonade? I asked mommy, but she can't hear me, because she has fluff in her ears."
(Well. Look who's decided to join us. She mocks my security attempts.
I often think of all I could do with lottery winnings. I assume I will win some day and that my calculations and budgets are just sound planning. I never buy lottery tickets and sometimes I think this could be a problem, but I try not let it distract me from my plans.
I was about to share that when I laugh really hard, I snort, but then I thought that would be too embarrassing to admit and I realized that if I am actually considering writing about things like that, then possibly I am just procrastinating. I tend to procrastinate or stall when I am extremely overwhelmed. There are so many things I am supposed to be doing right now. Important things. This is not a laughing matter.
Did you know about this? Whoa. Cool. Make me stop.