I've been wanting my own chair. But not just any chair. I've been wanting a big cushy chair. The kind I can sink into and maybe put my feet up … so I guess I've been wanting an ottoman, too … and possibly a big fluffy blanket to wrap myself in when I'm sitting in it, because my house is always cold. The point is, it has to be a space where I can get comfy with my laptop and a cup of coffee or tea and write some words - AH WORDS! It has to be a chair that is just for ME. In MY own space.
Yes, I have a house, but here's what happens when you have a house. Every inch gets taken over for some other purpose, and suddenly you're left without even a corner for your own magic writing chair.
I needed to reclaim a corner!
The other day my youngest son who is now twelve, said something crazy funny in the car, which I now can't remember. That's what happens when you turn 50. Actually, it happened way before I turned 50, but that's not the point. The point is, that after he had said it, and after I had finished laughing, I thought to myself, "remember this, it's great blog material." You can see how that worked out. Luckily though, there were plenty of other times when I did remember. This post from October 1, 2011 when my son was just 5 years old, is one of the first of many conversations I blogged about.
October 1, 2011
A Conversation With My Five Year Old: The Other Planet
As he does every morning, my five year old joyfully ran into my arms for his morning snuggle. I cherish these moments as I know they eventually fade - just ask his older siblings. But then I thought, maybe if I start at an early age, I could (brainwash) convince him to always snuggle me:
Me: Will you love me forever?
Me: And always give me hugs and snuggles?
C: Yes ... well - not when you're gone.
Me: Oh? Where am I going?
C: To the other planet.
Me: What other planet?
C: The one you go to when you get old.
C: Don't worry - I'll come to see you all the time.
M: You will? But you won't give me hugs and snuggles?
C: Sorry - those are the rules!
Now if only I can figure out how to amend this rule book!
For those wondering, my now twelve-year-old is still a snuggler, although not in the morning. In the morning, he is a typical tween. (Moms of tweens, you know what I'm talking about!) Also … remember my Monday Mind post about how I went to see the psychic last weekend? The psychic told me that of my three children, my youngest had some psychic/medium abilities of his own, which makes me wonder … Just what exactly does my child know about this other planet?
Have a great weekend!
A good friend and I have birthdays within a few weeks of each other, and this year we thought it might be fun to celebrate by visiting a psychic. I looked at it more as entertainment and great blog post material. My daughter referred to her as "the fortune teller," and I had no great expectations, although some winning lottery numbers would be nice.
We’d found our psychic the way most people find their psychics- she’d left her business card in a gift shop that sells crystals and incense and other stuff that would guarantee zen by centering my chakras and balancing my aura … or is it balancing my chakras and centering my aura?
I called to schedule a session and was surprised by two things:
Had I been quicker on my feet, I would have given her a fake name because let’s face it, if you google me there’s a lot you can find out. My skepticism grew by leaps and bounds. But here’s the thing - I told her I was bringing a friend - no name or other information given on my plus one. My litmus test was set.
When we arrived for our appointment, we discovered that our psychic was also a medium. That's right. She talks to dead people. This notion actually intrigued me because I'm certain my last house had a ghost. His name was Martin Van *** and he was the prior owner of the home before he passed away. Apparently that's what happens when you buy a home from a dead guy. I eventually sold that house, but because it takes me multiple faux pas to learn a lesson, I then went on to buy ANOTHER house from a ANOTHER dead guy. It's true. All of this inspired me to write the ghost story I'm currently working on … crazy right? One day I'll blog about it all, but for now, let's get back to the psychic/medium before my Monday Mind goes off track again.
You all want to know what happened right?
Or maybe I should call this post: This is Me NOT Multi-Tasking, as I've been trying to find time to write a post all day. And it's not because I'm so insanely busy that I haven't had time. Okay, I'm a little insanely busy, but I had time. Plenty. I'm just horrible at multi-tasking. Do you want to know what I'm not horrible at? Going down rabbit holes. That's right. Because each time I started writing this post, it was with the best intentions. I even had an interesting topic: Re-discovering Jane Austen. But then my mind went a little off track and this is sort of what happened:
Now here I am, fed, caffeinated, up to date on emails and other work, and not in the mood to fold laundry. And I now have a blog post with a list of things I accomplished today … multi-tasking in my non-multi-tasking way. Maybe I'll even write blog posts on those other topics that crossed my mind at some point. Maybe.
Thanksgiving has been over and done for a few days now, but it still lingers in my Monday Mind. I'd been planning for Thanksgiving for a while. Not just the day, but the entire week surrounding it. It was a week when my parents would be stopping by en route to/from my brother's house, my youngest son would have off from school, my aunt would be staying with us, my oldest son would be venturing in and out, and my daughter would be coming home from college. And it was a week when I'd be cooking a Thanksgiving meal.
While I was most definitely looking forward to all of those things, I'd prepared myself for the following:
Here's what really happened: