I've been terribly remiss in my blogging lately. There's just... nothing happening. It's the usual work around here-- laundry, dishes, canning/freezing, kitchen-building (moving in-- soon! Watch for the Big Reveal right here coming... soon! Within the next year, for sure!), and a surplus of tantrums which have caused me to completely loose my faith in terrible twos. It's all about three. Uh, where was I? Oh, the usual. Also, eerie dreams about bombs and scorpions. And it's been shockingly cool around here. Feels like September. What is up with that? I heard how my family's side of the world had such a cold spring, but we were normal. Now we're going to get a cold late-summer? Come on! What about my tomatoes?
Oh, how I do ramble.
I've noticed that other bloggers whom I admire tend to tell stories when they have no new news to share. And the stories are usually much more fun than news. It helps that these other bloggers have such great writing skills and, well, they can actually remember things. I don't know what's happened to my brain these days. I used to have this great memory, and my mom said how I remembered everything. But I must have accidentally hit the "flush" button, because I can only think of the present and future and the past is in some file cabinet and it takes me a lot of house-cleaning to find the key. Boy, that was a very incongruous analogy. What I mean is, this doesn't make sense to me because my past is really not that long, and yet I always seem to have a way of getting side-tracked by more recent events.
Okay, where was I going with this? Oh yes, telling a story. So... how about the time I...uh... nah. Or maybe I'll tell you the one about that day... nevermind. Nothing interesting. How about a not-interesting story from yesterday? I can do yesterday.
Jonah and I went to a birthday party yesterday. Jonah, always the youngest, was feeling very shy, poor kid. (But he plays a kickin' game of Limbo!) (That actually had nothing to do with my story.)
The hosts of this birthday party have a geriatric, old (you think that was redundant, but in reality, it was emphatic), Shih Tzu dog named Odie. He's a sweet old thing, but, well, old. And when I say "geriatric" and "old", what I mean is completely deaf, sensitive, and um... er... incontinent.
A mother came and dropped off a child at this party and came in the house to talk with our hostess and the other parents. In the midst of all my smiling and nodding, I happened to look down. And there... on the carpet, was a puddle. Poor Odie. Needed to go out, and couldn't wait. Normally, I would have said, "Hey, got a paper towel?" as puddles and piles are really no big deal to me. But I, in all my wisdom and foresight, was being polite and I waited for a break in the conversation. But as I tried to discreetly alert my hostess to the puddle, I watched this mother's sandaled foot land in it. And then I had even more trouble. Instead of something more direct "Excuse me, watch your step, the dog had an accident on the carpet." or even "Watch out! Pee puddle!", or I dunno, a delicate shriek of feigned horror, I tapped our hostesses shoulder and pointed. See how sophisticated I am? She didn't see what I was pointing at, so I said, "Under her foot!" What am I, four years old? Geesh. She quickly soaked it up with some paper towel and the other mother laughed and left, wiping her foot on the grass on the way to the car.
So, now that I've proved my point, you believe me about my uneventfulness? I'm sure stuff has happened to me. I'll try to think of something. Someday.
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