Thursday, July 19, 2012

A Couple Things

It's gonna be a long night, people. I've made a discovery: I require copious amounts of silence or near silence each day in order to function on three out of four cylinders. {Editor's note: Are there 4 cylinders? Too lazy to Google.} This is the only explanation for why I've been staying up until 12:30 or 1:00 almost every night. It's all quite twisted, really. I'm so exhausted that I have no choice but to stay up late and decompress.

It's been a difficult summer, okay? Sleep just doesn't seem to get it done like words on pages and reality TV and, well, you do. (yawn)

Although I gave up Staying Up Late for Lent and felt like a brand new Farmgirl. 10:30 was the new midnight, baby. It felt oddly...restful.

But whatever, because I also fell behind in sanity a little, so it was a bit of a mixed bag.

Thank you for listening, and God Bless!




Okay, no. Not done. Let's shake this down numeric-style.

1) Yesterday Cory took the van in for a new tire. Then he found out that he needed a second new tire. Then he needed some kind of bolt things replaced. Then he needed new brakes. Then he handed over his other arm and one leg and drove home, only to discover that a third tire had fallen ill in transit. I'm so for real.

It reminds me of the time Cory wrecked our vehicle. Every. single. year.

He called a few weeks ago and said, "Now don't worry, everything's fine, but someone just broad-sided me and the driver door won't open." To which I replied, "Well, as long as the windshield wipers are still stuck in the vertical position, it's all good. Dinner at 6!"

2) Don't buy old cars.

3) Unless you share Cory's luck. Then go on ahead.

4) I fell victim to a strange condition a month or so ago in which one random taste bud would become inflamed. The pain was akin to a paper cut. On my tongue. I'd talk a little funny, but when I inspected my tongue (you know I inspected it), it appeared to be fine. Until the next day, when I would wake to find the afflicted taste bud black as all death. We did this for roughly 30-odd days in a row. My sources reveal that it's probably viral. I'm still leaning toward the diagnosis of Salsa Mouth.

5) Did that totally disgust you? I spoke to Cory about it a couple of weeks ago and Robert screamed, "Sick!" It felt a little fun to gross him out.

6) Remember when I wouldn't shut the heck up about Sacrilege and then Barefoot Church? Cory and I are heading to Ohio for the weekend for our church's national conference where Hugh Halter and Brandon Hatmaker are both speaaaaaakingggggggggggg! (please read in your best Oprah Winfrey voice) I call them Haltermaker. So far, they appear unmoved by this demonstration of admiration and deep, abiding respect. I've been thinking about what I might ask if I get an opportunity to actually speak to them. Here's what I've come up with so far: "Is living with Jen sort of like a big, rowdy party with good food and stretchy pants? Do you think she would be my best friend if I moved to Austin? Is she in the market for someone to brush her hair or pour her tea or wash her whites? What's her feeling on Best Friends Forever jewelry?"I think Hugh is confident enough in himself not to feel too left out.

7) It rained all last night and most of this afternoon. Hallelujah.  You'd have thought we were all pioneers on the Oregon trail, succumbing one by one to drought and every manner of westward pestilence. Even the corn had given up crying. I knew Facebook would be burning up with "PTL, rain!" updates, so I heeded my natural instinct to be weird and post a joke no one would get: "SO over this rain." Just seemed like the right thing to do. In the end, I was the only one laughing.

8) I was not the only one laughing at this little gem.

9) The rain hurled my two big kids headlong into complete disarray and utter disorientation. It had been so long that they forgot what rain was and how it all worked. They lounged around all morning in fleece bath robes and house-slippers, begging for hot chocolate. Then they finally located a little wherewithal (but just a little) and decided to go brave the elements.

 This was after she had the good sense to remove her zip-up fleece. 
And yes, that is a turtle-neck.

10) Silas was free and easy for exactly five minutes this morning and he spent it hauling a kitchen chair to the book shelf, tippy-toeing to reach up to a very high shelf, finding a bottle of nail polish I'd hidden (from him), and painting his big toenail green. The fumes game him away. I've gotta say, Short Stack's got some mad pedi skillz.

11) He's also started saying, "Mom, can I get my dress on?" He doesn't mean he wants to wear a dress. He means he wants to get dressed. I, however, choose to hear it as, "Yo, Mama. I'm 'bout to go get my dress on. After that, let's get our grub on. Maybe later we can get our swim on, G."

12) In additional to my tongue ailment, I have reason to believe that I'm allergic to watermelon. Because life really isn't fair and was never promised to be. (See #1)

13) I picked up a gallon of aqua, turquoisy paint tonight for our island. Yellow lost, my friends. But was it really ever a contest? Yellow almost never wins. True story.

13a) Silas pronounces yellow "wellow". swoon

And now, I shall retire to my boudoir where I will spend the next thirty-to-eighty-five minutes reading one of the most gripping novels I've ever read.

(How's that for a cliff-hanger?)

Seacrest OUT.