State of Obvious

We need more chairs. Every time people come over for dinner, I become even more painfully aware that we don't have enough. But I don't really want chairs, per say. I'd rather have a cozy sectional. Or a cute little bench that doesn't hurt your bum. (Do those exist?) Floor pillows? Too low. Nobody wants to get up from a floor pillow. Recliner? To bulky and only enough room for 1. Love seat? Possibly. If I could find the right one. I'm kind of bugged by the position of our pellet stove. The stove plus two built in bookshelves take up one whole wall of our family room, severely limiting furniture placement. It irritates me in a "gosh dang I'm lucky" kind of way. World hunger? Meh. Global warming? {snicker} Immunizations? National health care/Ted Kennedy? Michael Jackson's homicide? Lindsay Lohan's home robbed? Pshh, I don't need to sweat these major issues! I've got a severe lack of seating, people, and it's not going to solve itself.

It's Saturday night, the house is still, the children abed, the husband asleep. Finally it's my time . My time to think, to write, to watch, to listen. Later, I will go and tuck the blankets up 'round the sleeping babes. I will put dishes in the sink, shut off lights and stumble my way to my waiting bed. But, that's later, when my time is over and it's back to mother time. I contemplate different ways to use my time , craving satisfaction from the brief moments of respite. It's not that I am running away. Or that I'm desperate for solace. More that, this is my rest. Eventually I will sleep, dream, toss, turn, and mumble through til dawn. Not yet. There is a brief window of time, when the stars show just enough twinkle to tantalize, revealing stolen moments. In the quick shadows, I shed the lists and to-do's and expectations so that I can step into myself for a while. Soon the night will end, fading away beneath the sweeping rays of the sun. But,...

The good: - Carly loves preschool. - the fence is up. - Josh finished his homework. The bad: - there is no preschool on Fridays. - there is not enough fence to go all the way across the back yard. - Josh forgot half his homework at school. The ugly: - there is no preschool on Fridays. (She really loves it.) - the fence is bubbly and crooked. (But I don't care enough to fix it!) - I think part of my brain fell out while Josh was doing his homework. (Seriously.) Bonus - the funny (on our way out to finish the fence): Carly: Mommy can I use the hammer? Me: Yes, I'll let you hammer a little bit after I get these clips in. Carly: Josh, come on, it's hammer time!

Pepto Bismal - yeah I said it. Eric doing dishes. Preschool. Pizza. Ice cold water. Completed homework. Gorilla bars (granola bars to everyone but Carly). Sleep. Discovery. Books. Music. Warm blankets. Josh in Carly's crocs. (More funny than good, I'll admit). Snail mail. Paying off debt. Sleep. I already said that. This.

Have you guys seen that show on A&E, the one called Hoarders . It's about hoarders, aka people who collect and keep lots and LOTS of stuff to the detriment of their lives and families. I know, shocker. But bear with me while you reel from that revelation, okay? I was watching it tonight, you know, when I couldn't sleep. (I can never sleep. I don't sleep. Until morning and then I have a hard time waking up. Go figure. The sudden revelations I'm pouring out for you tonight are just almost breathtaking.) Where was I? Oh, yes. Tonight on Hoarders they featured this lady, somewhat old but not like one foot in the grave old, who had this weird need - nay addiction - to collecting food. Not eating it, mind you. Just shoving it in her fridge to rot. Or her freezer. Or, you know, when she ran out of room inside things she just left the food on her floor. On her floor, rotting, with flies crawling all over it. Seriously, I've seen a lot of gross things...

Sometimes we wish for rain. We hope for that brilliant storm to come rolling in with flashing lights and booming sound. We long to be washed clean as the water streaks down from heaven. We embrace the chaos and go running through the rain, feet splashing in the puddles, mouth open to catch the cold drops. Sometimes, we let go . Sometimes we wish for sun. We pray for that crystal clear day of vast blue sky. We look eagerly for puffy, drifting clouds and makes shapes of them in our mind's eye. We strip down to our basics and go hopping about, absorbing the happiness. We bathe in the glory of the daylight. Sometimes, we hold on . Sometimes we long for moonlight. We gaze up at the silvery glow and sigh, happy with the meager beacon's gentle beaming. We examine the changes around us, amazed at how different things seem in softer shades. We let our spirit wander through soft dream-filled fields. We wish on stars, regardless of how possible the outcome is. Sometimes, we rest . Someti...

The last couple of posts are just down right de press ing. I know. I'm sorry. But you should know, I feel slightly better this evening. First I hiked with Josh and Carly (uphill both ways with no shoes, mind) to the hill way at the back of our yard. There was lots of cactus so I was forever telling the kids to watch out. For cactus. Watch out! I think sometimes Carly was put on this earth purely to teach me to open my eyes. We gathered stones and dry wood. No one got poked. The wheelbarrow tipped over 2 times when Josh tossed in rocks with too much impatience enthusiasm. Then we sat out by the (completed thanks to Eric) fire pit and listened to the wood crackle and disassemble into ash. Everyone should have a fire pit, it's theraputic. We toasted too many marshmallows, I can feel one sticking to my rib as I type. The wind was sweeping dusk across the sky, ushering trouble away like a broom making quick work of the dirt. We told Carly to watch out. For fire. Watch out! We ye...