Today I spent three hours driving children to and from various places when suddenly I realized I was just driving in a bigger and bigger circle, getting further and further away from home. Every day the driving circle seems to expand, which really is counter productive since all the things I need to be doing, like making dinner and folding laundry and taking a nap, are at home. Even though Jane is old enough to have her license she doesn't (I'm sure my revealing this completely unrevealing fact is going to get me in trouble with Jane. Hi, Jane!), so I'm still the person left to drive the kids most places and I almost always say yes to taking them wherever they need/want to be. I was talking about this today with a friend. We are yes parents. Our kids appreciate this about us. I don't mean saying yes to them smoking crack, although given time I suppose I would back down on that one too, but yes to all the things I don't want them to miss out on, which hopefully will never ever include smoking crack.
I have my sister to thank for much of this. She has kids a few years older than mine and I would call her when her two oldest were in high school and she would mention in passing that she had spent approximately twenty two hours in the car that day. I wondered when she slept but she seemed happy enough so I left it alone. I would think, oh I guess this is normal; when you're a mom of teens who don't drive yet you take them everywhere. Having younger children does require plenty of driving time as well, but something about the teen years ramps everything up ( and not just the time spent driving). Anyhow, my sister did all of this driving stuff and she didn't make a stink out of it so I thought, hmm, she seems as though she likes being a parent, maybe I should like being a parent too. But her kids were older and so I decided to wait on liking being a parent until my kids were older too.
The time has come. My children are older now and I like being a parent, but the truth is as much as I'm enjoying it I really feel I can no longer write about it because teens require privacy. That's unfortunate as some of things I could discuss are wildly entertaining, although not nearly as entertaining as the expanding driving circles you all had the pleasure of reading about just now. This is what it's come down to - me making up ridiculous things to talk about because I can't talk too much about the real things.
So anyway, your kids will get older and with each year the driving circle will get bigger and if you are lucky like me and live in Central Florida than you can't complain too much because you have limited space with which to expand the circle. If you live someplace like Nebraska there's a good chance you'll spend years and years expanding your driving circle until your husband calls you one day and asks if you are ever returning home, because the laundry is piling up. By then you'll be in Canada and you can tell him, dear, this is why you should have learned to do laundry years ago - don't you remember when I told you that wise woman from Florida warned us about the expanding driving circle?
Don't fret. I still have a child and a dog who have no idea how to get on my blog so I can write about them all I want. And if I beg and plead I may even convince the older kids to let me tell you a few amusing things about them too. Otherwise this here blog doesn't stand a chance. It would be nice if I was interesting enough that I could write about myself, but the truth is, it's not really fun to reveal things about yourself when you can reveal them about others.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
The post you have all been waiting for - or not.
It's been a while. Is anyone still there? Probably not. Many weeks have passed since I last wrote and I can't even remember half of what happened during that time, but I'll try and come up with something for you.
I turned forty four at the end of May. If you haven't turned forty four yet and you're wondering if it's as boring as it sounds, it is. There is nothing romantic and exciting about that number. The kids all made me birthday cards. Jane and Kate wrote out some lovely sentiments. I can't reveal what they said because if you know me you won't believe anyone could think all those nice things about me and you may just think my two oldest children are complete bull shit artists. Anthony composed a card only after one of the girls guilted him into it. He taped a dollar bill to a piece of paper and below it he wrote, Mom, here's some weed money. I wasn't really sure what to think of that but I am never really sure what to think of Anthony. He said it was a joke, but that still didn't give me any clarity on the card's meaning. Maggie drew me a pretty picture of a birthday cake.
Greg and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary at the end of June. We went out for dinner and a walk and then made a trip to the bookstore. It rained, which was lovely because it rained on our wedding day and believe it or not I'm a bit sentimental every once in twenty years and I thought, oh how sweet, this is just like our wedding day. Well, our wedding day plus four kids, several dogs, many friends and moves and houses and telephone numbers later and also a couple of rather upsetting medical issues regarding a few of the kids, the births of many nieces and nephews and the death of a few loved ones and a hundred million other ridiculously good and bad things. So it was better than our wedding day. On June 26, 1993 Greg and I had only known each other for three short years and the amount of history between us was so small that there really were no stories to tell. There was the one about how we met and how we got engaged and how my Nana told my mother, upon meeting Greg, Barbara Ann, that boy is going to marry your daughter and a few other funny tales but really there was no meat like there is after twenty years. There is no way to talk simply about two decades of being together and now that I've written that I realize I'm a bit nervous about the next twenty years together. It's insane, people. Marriage is insane. Having children is insane. Insane in a good way and occasionally insane in the exact way you picture insanity to be, but it's still worth it and now I'll end my marriage thoughts with a sappy quote from an Avett Brothers song... "True love is not the kind of thing you should turn down. So don't ever turn it down."
Kate and Maggie are now both in public school. Maggie is in first grade and is extremely happy. Kate began her freshman year of high school after much worry and obsessing from me. I prayed, too, but never one to completely trust God I gave into my worry on a regular basis until finally I had no choice but to accept the fact that I was sending her to school and things would either work out or they wouldn't, but worrying about it was not helping. So as soon as I entered that phase of acceptance I encountered an unpleasant secretary in the guidance office who made me feel as though I was trying to get Kate into Harvard rather than the local public school system and I started worrying again. There really is no other way to describe the secretary from guidance except to say she was a huge and royal pain in my ass and because of her I wasted an entire Sunday writing down detailed notes of Kate's curriculum from last year. After spending hours doing this I realized Kate has done an enormous amount of work and I was proud of myself because I'm not nearly as pathetic at homeschooling the kids as I thought. So then I had less ill will toward the guidance secretary because if not for her I wouldn't have known how truly awesome I am at homeschooling. But as luck would have it, I brought the many pages of detailed curriculum information to the guidance secretary on Monday morning and she went right back on my shit list. I need to remember to not take people off that list for any reason. As Oprah told me many years ago, when people show you who they are, believe them. When I handed the curriculum to her she reacted as if I had placed my own feces in her hands, which now that I think about would have been kind of fun.
After the woman I will now refer to as Guidance Ass told me she didn't think Kate would be enrolled in school by the first day I went out to the parking lot and picked up the phone and called my friend So and So and burst into tears. I don't ever call So and So. I text her and we get together for coffee, but I never call her. I never call anyone, so I can only describe my calling her as some kind of God thing and yes, I fully accept that all this blatant talk of God is making me feel not at all Catholic, but it's true people, God made me do it and he gets all the credit and trust me when I tell you, he has been fully thanked every single day. Within fifteen minutes of me calling So and So she found several people willing to help me and then she met me at Starbucks and talked me off the ledge and I suddenly knew everything would be fine. A friend of So and So's knows important people at the high school and so Kate was enrolled before her first day and she got every single class she wanted and even got all the best teachers, because So and So's friend made sure of it. Thank God and thank So and So and her friend, but definitely do not thank Guidance Ass.
The best part of this story is that Kate seems to be loving school. She told us tonight at dinner that she wakes up every morning excited to go. She is enjoying her classes and teachers and seems content and comfortable and has already met some people she likes very much. I can't convey how thrilled and relieved I am for her.
On that note, I must end this so I can get to bed.
Kate and Maggie are now both in public school. Maggie is in first grade and is extremely happy. Kate began her freshman year of high school after much worry and obsessing from me. I prayed, too, but never one to completely trust God I gave into my worry on a regular basis until finally I had no choice but to accept the fact that I was sending her to school and things would either work out or they wouldn't, but worrying about it was not helping. So as soon as I entered that phase of acceptance I encountered an unpleasant secretary in the guidance office who made me feel as though I was trying to get Kate into Harvard rather than the local public school system and I started worrying again. There really is no other way to describe the secretary from guidance except to say she was a huge and royal pain in my ass and because of her I wasted an entire Sunday writing down detailed notes of Kate's curriculum from last year. After spending hours doing this I realized Kate has done an enormous amount of work and I was proud of myself because I'm not nearly as pathetic at homeschooling the kids as I thought. So then I had less ill will toward the guidance secretary because if not for her I wouldn't have known how truly awesome I am at homeschooling. But as luck would have it, I brought the many pages of detailed curriculum information to the guidance secretary on Monday morning and she went right back on my shit list. I need to remember to not take people off that list for any reason. As Oprah told me many years ago, when people show you who they are, believe them. When I handed the curriculum to her she reacted as if I had placed my own feces in her hands, which now that I think about would have been kind of fun.
After the woman I will now refer to as Guidance Ass told me she didn't think Kate would be enrolled in school by the first day I went out to the parking lot and picked up the phone and called my friend So and So and burst into tears. I don't ever call So and So. I text her and we get together for coffee, but I never call her. I never call anyone, so I can only describe my calling her as some kind of God thing and yes, I fully accept that all this blatant talk of God is making me feel not at all Catholic, but it's true people, God made me do it and he gets all the credit and trust me when I tell you, he has been fully thanked every single day. Within fifteen minutes of me calling So and So she found several people willing to help me and then she met me at Starbucks and talked me off the ledge and I suddenly knew everything would be fine. A friend of So and So's knows important people at the high school and so Kate was enrolled before her first day and she got every single class she wanted and even got all the best teachers, because So and So's friend made sure of it. Thank God and thank So and So and her friend, but definitely do not thank Guidance Ass.
The best part of this story is that Kate seems to be loving school. She told us tonight at dinner that she wakes up every morning excited to go. She is enjoying her classes and teachers and seems content and comfortable and has already met some people she likes very much. I can't convey how thrilled and relieved I am for her.
On that note, I must end this so I can get to bed.
Friday, May 10, 2013
This riding life - a longish post in which only the riders will be interested ( but only mildly)
I love riding my bike. Even when it's 95 degrees outside and I'm exhausted and riding up someplace like Sugarloaf Mountain ( yes, we have a road in Florida with the word mountain in it) and the top of the hill seems to be getting further away instead of closer; even when my water bottles are empty and I'm miles from anywhere and suddenly starving and wishing I had packed a little sugar, and the sun is beating down on my face and I remember I didn't put sun lotion on, which means my dark spots on my face are going to get darker and my wrinkles are going to come faster, even then I love being on my bike, especially then.
When it rains all day and I can't ride, which happened several times last week, I complain endlessly. I go out into the garage and open the door and pull my bike to the front, like maybe Mother Nature will see me do this and she'll be nice to me and act accordingly. I'll say listen Mother Nature, don't do it for me, do it for my family - you know I will make them suffer if you don't give into my demands. Sometimes Mother Nature can be a real bitch though and she decides she does want them to suffer and the rain just goes on and on. But still, I stand in the garage and stare up at the sky and look for any glimpse of sunlight breaking through. I know, I'm such a hopeful soul!
Last week was a tough one for me and my bike. So much rain. One night after dinner, despite the fact that every news station was reporting storms approaching, I decided I didn't care and was going to take a ride anyway. Greg told me not to go, but I ignored him. I left and headed toward Tangerine and felt like I could will the storms away from my little area. Usually when I try and will things into happening it involves me closing my eyes and holding my breath, which is hard to do on my bike, so I just kept saying over and over, go away rain, go away rain, go away rain. I knew it wasn't working when someone pulled along side me in a car and asked if I was close to home because a big storm was about to hit, to which I could only say, "are you kidding me!? I had no idea! I wish I knew before I left!" It was hard for me to turn around though. Before I left for my ride I spent several minutes mocking Greg and his trust in Doppler radar. Going back home would mean he was right, but I knew if I didn't turn around he would just come looking for me. That's the kind of person he is. Caring, selfless, concerned. I'm the kind of person who would rather risk getting struck by lightening than admit her husband was right, but I turned around and went home anyway.
Sure enough, as I was turning into my street, I saw Greg in his truck headed toward me. He rolled down his window and I rode over to him and in my most serious and sincere tone I asked him if he was going downtown for a walk. I couldn't help myself. I had to keep it up and keep pretending I didn't think it was going to rain. He said, no, he was going out to look for me, and I couldn't resist telling him that the only reason I came back home wasn't because I thought it was going to rain, but because I knew he would be looking for me. I know. I'm not nice at all. I made up for it a couple of days later though when he was leaving to play golf and I asked him if he had lost weight. This made him very happy. And it was true, he did look like he'd lost some weight (which can probably be attributed to my laziness lately regarding meals - we've had salad every night for the past week and half and not much else. And really calling it salad is being generous. It's more like lettuce, with a drizzle of olive oil on top.)
Sometimes I talk about riding my bike and people assume I like it so much because it's relaxing and peaceful and relieves my stress, which is true to some extent, but I'm still Ann Marie when I'm on that bike, which means I still act like the ass I am when I'm not on it ( those last two paragraph highlight this point nicely), just slightly less so. Like last week when an elderly person almost hit me. This happens a lot with the elderlies. It's like they think stop signs and traffic lights are optional. They've lived a long life and I guess at some point they believe they've earned the right to ignore traffic laws. Usually I don't care about having to dodge them, but last week I yelled out, "old people suck!" I knew I should have felt bad for yelling that, but I started laughing at myself instead. Unfortunately I am the kind of person who sometimes thinks old people suck (mostly just when I'm on my bike trying to dodge them) and then I start thinking about all the things that remind me of elderly people, like butterscotch candy and perfect lawns and all the old people at the 4 o'clock Mass on Saturday evening who always leave right after Communion because they need to hurry up to the early bird special. If I'm on my bike having all these thoughts I'm generally filled with a sense of amusement, whereas if I'm off my bike having these same thoughts I feel complete annoyance - not about the butterscotch and perfect lawns, but definitely about leaving Mass early. Obviously being on my bike is beneficial for everyone.
My love of riding means going on Mapquest and spending too many hours looking up every road and trail in my state and figuring out how long it will take me to ride some of those routes. It means being in my car and seeing someone out riding and becoming overwhelmed with jealousy that I'm not out there too. Sometimes I want to roll down my window and just yell, "I love you bike riding person!"( The more intelligent among us call those people cyclists, but I like my phrase better.) It means waking on a Saturday morning and telling Greg, in all seriousness, that I'm just going to take a quick four hour ride - and thinking this is completely reasonable and not understanding why my family thinks I have a slight problem. Mostly though, riding just means a few hours a day of peace and quiet and freedom. That's really all it is for me. Nothing bigger than that.
When it rains all day and I can't ride, which happened several times last week, I complain endlessly. I go out into the garage and open the door and pull my bike to the front, like maybe Mother Nature will see me do this and she'll be nice to me and act accordingly. I'll say listen Mother Nature, don't do it for me, do it for my family - you know I will make them suffer if you don't give into my demands. Sometimes Mother Nature can be a real bitch though and she decides she does want them to suffer and the rain just goes on and on. But still, I stand in the garage and stare up at the sky and look for any glimpse of sunlight breaking through. I know, I'm such a hopeful soul!
Last week was a tough one for me and my bike. So much rain. One night after dinner, despite the fact that every news station was reporting storms approaching, I decided I didn't care and was going to take a ride anyway. Greg told me not to go, but I ignored him. I left and headed toward Tangerine and felt like I could will the storms away from my little area. Usually when I try and will things into happening it involves me closing my eyes and holding my breath, which is hard to do on my bike, so I just kept saying over and over, go away rain, go away rain, go away rain. I knew it wasn't working when someone pulled along side me in a car and asked if I was close to home because a big storm was about to hit, to which I could only say, "are you kidding me!? I had no idea! I wish I knew before I left!" It was hard for me to turn around though. Before I left for my ride I spent several minutes mocking Greg and his trust in Doppler radar. Going back home would mean he was right, but I knew if I didn't turn around he would just come looking for me. That's the kind of person he is. Caring, selfless, concerned. I'm the kind of person who would rather risk getting struck by lightening than admit her husband was right, but I turned around and went home anyway.
Sure enough, as I was turning into my street, I saw Greg in his truck headed toward me. He rolled down his window and I rode over to him and in my most serious and sincere tone I asked him if he was going downtown for a walk. I couldn't help myself. I had to keep it up and keep pretending I didn't think it was going to rain. He said, no, he was going out to look for me, and I couldn't resist telling him that the only reason I came back home wasn't because I thought it was going to rain, but because I knew he would be looking for me. I know. I'm not nice at all. I made up for it a couple of days later though when he was leaving to play golf and I asked him if he had lost weight. This made him very happy. And it was true, he did look like he'd lost some weight (which can probably be attributed to my laziness lately regarding meals - we've had salad every night for the past week and half and not much else. And really calling it salad is being generous. It's more like lettuce, with a drizzle of olive oil on top.)
Sometimes I talk about riding my bike and people assume I like it so much because it's relaxing and peaceful and relieves my stress, which is true to some extent, but I'm still Ann Marie when I'm on that bike, which means I still act like the ass I am when I'm not on it ( those last two paragraph highlight this point nicely), just slightly less so. Like last week when an elderly person almost hit me. This happens a lot with the elderlies. It's like they think stop signs and traffic lights are optional. They've lived a long life and I guess at some point they believe they've earned the right to ignore traffic laws. Usually I don't care about having to dodge them, but last week I yelled out, "old people suck!" I knew I should have felt bad for yelling that, but I started laughing at myself instead. Unfortunately I am the kind of person who sometimes thinks old people suck (mostly just when I'm on my bike trying to dodge them) and then I start thinking about all the things that remind me of elderly people, like butterscotch candy and perfect lawns and all the old people at the 4 o'clock Mass on Saturday evening who always leave right after Communion because they need to hurry up to the early bird special. If I'm on my bike having all these thoughts I'm generally filled with a sense of amusement, whereas if I'm off my bike having these same thoughts I feel complete annoyance - not about the butterscotch and perfect lawns, but definitely about leaving Mass early. Obviously being on my bike is beneficial for everyone.
My love of riding means going on Mapquest and spending too many hours looking up every road and trail in my state and figuring out how long it will take me to ride some of those routes. It means being in my car and seeing someone out riding and becoming overwhelmed with jealousy that I'm not out there too. Sometimes I want to roll down my window and just yell, "I love you bike riding person!"( The more intelligent among us call those people cyclists, but I like my phrase better.) It means waking on a Saturday morning and telling Greg, in all seriousness, that I'm just going to take a quick four hour ride - and thinking this is completely reasonable and not understanding why my family thinks I have a slight problem. Mostly though, riding just means a few hours a day of peace and quiet and freedom. That's really all it is for me. Nothing bigger than that.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Fun with Anthony!
When I'm stuck for something to write about I can always count on my son for material.
Anthony continues to delight me with his laugh out loud antics. Oh it's all laughter over here, yes it is. Nothing but knee slappin' good times! Yesterday he came inside with a large wooden pole that was previously used as a door jam for our old sliding door. Since we no longer have use for the pole, Anthony told me he was going to make the world's most awesome pinata smasher with it. He was headed for the garage as he was saying this and immediately the thought entered my mind that the world's most awesome pinata smasher, according to Anthony, may include putting nails into it, so I said to him, "dear and wonderful son of mine, what exactly are you going to do to make this the world's most awesome pinata smasher" and he said, "oh, I'm gonna put nails in it." Do you see how well I know my son? Although, let's face it, anyone reading this post probably could have guessed the same thing - he's not exactly a puzzle, is he? Call me crazy, but something about the whole idea of hundreds of nails sticking out of a wooden pole seemed dangerous to me so I told him no, he would not be able to make the world's most awesome pinata smasher.
With his nails in a wooden pole idea shot down Anthony moved onto more productive things. He grabbed my kitchen blender and about fifty sheets paper and went into his bedroom. Greg was home by this point and glanced up at me with a look of concern on his face. I told him about the previous pinata smasher idea and then he looked at me like, oh, okay, so whatever he's doing with that blender is an improvement over the last idea. This is how it goes with Anthony. He comes up with so many ridiculous ideas that eventually whatever it is he has finally settled on seems normal.
It turns out he was blending water and paper and flower seeds together. He made little balls with this concoction and then let them dry over night. This morning he placed the dried up paper balls out in our back yard where they will sprout wild flowers all over the place. This is a real thing. He read about it on the Internets and after he told me what he was doing I was kind of grateful because our backyard needs a little sprucing up and I had no intention making that happen.
Now don't go getting all jealous of me. It's not all fun and games over here with Anthony. Would you like to know the most horrific part of my day with him? Math time. If I die of a heart attack I know exactly when and where it will occur - in my kitchen, with Anthony's math book clenched in hands, at approximately 10:30 on a weekday morning. And when the ambulance comes to take me away, Anthony will be sitting at the table still trying to figure out 3 times 4 and telling everyone within ear shot that I never taught him his times tables and when one of his sisters points out that yes, I did teach him, he'll move onto his next excuse which is that he has short term memory loss and he can't help it, he just can't remember anything. This is our routine. Me teaching him something and thinking he's got it and then three minutes later when I ask him to do a problem showing what he just learned he looks at me and asks if I'm sure I taught him this and when I nearly explode he tells me I shouldn't get mad because even though it seems far fetched, he really thinks he has short term memory loss, which is why ( according to him) he should never, ever go back to school.
Oh look, it's almost like I wrote a real post here, minus an introduction and conclusion, but who needs any of that. I'm tired. Good night.
Anthony continues to delight me with his laugh out loud antics. Oh it's all laughter over here, yes it is. Nothing but knee slappin' good times! Yesterday he came inside with a large wooden pole that was previously used as a door jam for our old sliding door. Since we no longer have use for the pole, Anthony told me he was going to make the world's most awesome pinata smasher with it. He was headed for the garage as he was saying this and immediately the thought entered my mind that the world's most awesome pinata smasher, according to Anthony, may include putting nails into it, so I said to him, "dear and wonderful son of mine, what exactly are you going to do to make this the world's most awesome pinata smasher" and he said, "oh, I'm gonna put nails in it." Do you see how well I know my son? Although, let's face it, anyone reading this post probably could have guessed the same thing - he's not exactly a puzzle, is he? Call me crazy, but something about the whole idea of hundreds of nails sticking out of a wooden pole seemed dangerous to me so I told him no, he would not be able to make the world's most awesome pinata smasher.
With his nails in a wooden pole idea shot down Anthony moved onto more productive things. He grabbed my kitchen blender and about fifty sheets paper and went into his bedroom. Greg was home by this point and glanced up at me with a look of concern on his face. I told him about the previous pinata smasher idea and then he looked at me like, oh, okay, so whatever he's doing with that blender is an improvement over the last idea. This is how it goes with Anthony. He comes up with so many ridiculous ideas that eventually whatever it is he has finally settled on seems normal.
It turns out he was blending water and paper and flower seeds together. He made little balls with this concoction and then let them dry over night. This morning he placed the dried up paper balls out in our back yard where they will sprout wild flowers all over the place. This is a real thing. He read about it on the Internets and after he told me what he was doing I was kind of grateful because our backyard needs a little sprucing up and I had no intention making that happen.
Now don't go getting all jealous of me. It's not all fun and games over here with Anthony. Would you like to know the most horrific part of my day with him? Math time. If I die of a heart attack I know exactly when and where it will occur - in my kitchen, with Anthony's math book clenched in hands, at approximately 10:30 on a weekday morning. And when the ambulance comes to take me away, Anthony will be sitting at the table still trying to figure out 3 times 4 and telling everyone within ear shot that I never taught him his times tables and when one of his sisters points out that yes, I did teach him, he'll move onto his next excuse which is that he has short term memory loss and he can't help it, he just can't remember anything. This is our routine. Me teaching him something and thinking he's got it and then three minutes later when I ask him to do a problem showing what he just learned he looks at me and asks if I'm sure I taught him this and when I nearly explode he tells me I shouldn't get mad because even though it seems far fetched, he really thinks he has short term memory loss, which is why ( according to him) he should never, ever go back to school.
Oh look, it's almost like I wrote a real post here, minus an introduction and conclusion, but who needs any of that. I'm tired. Good night.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
More stuff
Oh look! Another post and it hasn't even been a full week. I'm ambitious.
We're on spring break this week and the weather is not spring break weather. It was in the 60's yesterday. People are saying how refreshing it is. It isn't refreshing. If this was the middle of August and we were having 99 degree days with 150 percent humidity, then it would be refreshing. But people, really, what on earth are you being refreshed from? The weather has not been warm here. Stop being careless with your words. This weather is the opposite of refreshing - it's annoying. Someone said yesterday, "well, it could be worse, it could be snowing out." No, actually it really couldn't be snowing out. We live in Florida. We don't get snow, so no, please just stop making ridiculous arguments. I want warmth. I want to be out walking in the morning and actually break a sweat. I want to get off my bike and be drenched. So come on Florida, get your act together and get warm.
Speaking of walking in the morning...I was out the other morning finishing up my walk and while I was on the corner of Highland and Liberty, I happened upon a man laying face down in the bushes, covered in toilet paper. Thankfully I was in my car when I saw him. Sometimes I leave for my walks straight from my house, but other times I get in my car, drive down the street and park somewhere. I do this so that on the way back home I can avoid the slow walk up my hill in which neighbors see me and wave and sometimes talk. If I'm in my car I can just drive up my street and get out of my car and look down at the ground, avoiding contact with chatty neighbors. So anyway, I was in my car pulling out of the parking lot on Liberty and Highland and that's when I spotted what I was pretty certain was a person. Because it was so early out and still quite dark, I decided to flash my high beams and sure enough, up popped a person's head. Said person just stared at me as though I was rude for waking him and honestly I did feel kind of bad about that once I realized he wasn't dead. I asked him if he was okay and he made some remark about having had a fight with his boyfriend the night before and so I guess he found his way there to that nice cozy bush.And really, who among us can claim to have never fallen asleep in a bush? No judgments from me on that one. I asked if he needed anything and he said no thanks and went right back to relaxing face down, right in that bush. I hope he worked it out with his boyfriend. Sleeping in a bush for one evening is okay, anything more than that and it becomes somewhat uncomfortable.
Speaking of men and their boyfriends, did you hear that the Supreme Court is hearing arguments regarding same-sex marriage? I know, you hadn't even heard about this and now you have me to thank for informing you! I like to stay on top of things. Okay, I admit, I didn't know any of this until about five minutes ago when I went on Google and something about it popped up and I thought, hum what's going on, should I make myself aware of this, should I educate myself and become involved and concerned? Well, as it turns out, the way the Supreme Court works it doesn't even matter what I think about any of this ( RUDE!), nor does it matter if I am at all educated on the matter, so I decided to just check back in a few months when all of this will be decided. Yes, it's true. It seems that a ruling on the matter won't be given until June so we only have two to three more months to listen to people on both sides give profound and moving insights into why they are right and you are nothing but a complete ignoramus. Do you care to hear my insights? Oh please, you should know better. I don't talk about this stuff. Rest assured though, if you feel like giving me your thoughts on the matter I will listen and then, depending on your stance, I will either think you are brilliant, or an ignoramus. Roll the dice and take you chances, people. You just never know where you'll end up with me.
Well, children are getting restless and my behind is getting numb from sitting here so I will end this. Don't forget to watch the Florida Gulf Coast/ University of Florida Gainesville game on Thursday night. While we may not all share the same views on gay marriage, there is one thing I know we can all agree on - Gator Nation is filled with the largest number of arrogant jerks ever to roam the face of the earth so with any luck, Florida Gulf Coast will win. GO EAGLES!!!!!
We're on spring break this week and the weather is not spring break weather. It was in the 60's yesterday. People are saying how refreshing it is. It isn't refreshing. If this was the middle of August and we were having 99 degree days with 150 percent humidity, then it would be refreshing. But people, really, what on earth are you being refreshed from? The weather has not been warm here. Stop being careless with your words. This weather is the opposite of refreshing - it's annoying. Someone said yesterday, "well, it could be worse, it could be snowing out." No, actually it really couldn't be snowing out. We live in Florida. We don't get snow, so no, please just stop making ridiculous arguments. I want warmth. I want to be out walking in the morning and actually break a sweat. I want to get off my bike and be drenched. So come on Florida, get your act together and get warm.
Speaking of walking in the morning...I was out the other morning finishing up my walk and while I was on the corner of Highland and Liberty, I happened upon a man laying face down in the bushes, covered in toilet paper. Thankfully I was in my car when I saw him. Sometimes I leave for my walks straight from my house, but other times I get in my car, drive down the street and park somewhere. I do this so that on the way back home I can avoid the slow walk up my hill in which neighbors see me and wave and sometimes talk. If I'm in my car I can just drive up my street and get out of my car and look down at the ground, avoiding contact with chatty neighbors. So anyway, I was in my car pulling out of the parking lot on Liberty and Highland and that's when I spotted what I was pretty certain was a person. Because it was so early out and still quite dark, I decided to flash my high beams and sure enough, up popped a person's head. Said person just stared at me as though I was rude for waking him and honestly I did feel kind of bad about that once I realized he wasn't dead. I asked him if he was okay and he made some remark about having had a fight with his boyfriend the night before and so I guess he found his way there to that nice cozy bush.And really, who among us can claim to have never fallen asleep in a bush? No judgments from me on that one. I asked if he needed anything and he said no thanks and went right back to relaxing face down, right in that bush. I hope he worked it out with his boyfriend. Sleeping in a bush for one evening is okay, anything more than that and it becomes somewhat uncomfortable.
Speaking of men and their boyfriends, did you hear that the Supreme Court is hearing arguments regarding same-sex marriage? I know, you hadn't even heard about this and now you have me to thank for informing you! I like to stay on top of things. Okay, I admit, I didn't know any of this until about five minutes ago when I went on Google and something about it popped up and I thought, hum what's going on, should I make myself aware of this, should I educate myself and become involved and concerned? Well, as it turns out, the way the Supreme Court works it doesn't even matter what I think about any of this ( RUDE!), nor does it matter if I am at all educated on the matter, so I decided to just check back in a few months when all of this will be decided. Yes, it's true. It seems that a ruling on the matter won't be given until June so we only have two to three more months to listen to people on both sides give profound and moving insights into why they are right and you are nothing but a complete ignoramus. Do you care to hear my insights? Oh please, you should know better. I don't talk about this stuff. Rest assured though, if you feel like giving me your thoughts on the matter I will listen and then, depending on your stance, I will either think you are brilliant, or an ignoramus. Roll the dice and take you chances, people. You just never know where you'll end up with me.
Well, children are getting restless and my behind is getting numb from sitting here so I will end this. Don't forget to watch the Florida Gulf Coast/ University of Florida Gainesville game on Thursday night. While we may not all share the same views on gay marriage, there is one thing I know we can all agree on - Gator Nation is filled with the largest number of arrogant jerks ever to roam the face of the earth so with any luck, Florida Gulf Coast will win. GO EAGLES!!!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)