Ugh, some days I just do not know what to write. I typically write whatever happens to be occupying my brain matter at the time, but the truth is I am all over the board this week, so I think I will just list (in no particular order) all the various themes currently taking up space:
* What is it with road rage? Actually, not even road rage. Clay got incredibly (shall we say "annoyed") this weekend when he was unable to locate a store that carried the golf putter he is thinking of buying. All of us have had times when we could not find what we are looking for. I am still searching for a pair of jeans that truly fits correctly.... and it has been thirty-two years! But I have never gone postal when, after trying on thirty thousand pairs of jeans, I still have yet to find the right one. Clay, well, I knew we were in trouble when the address for the first golf store resulted in nothing more than a residential neighborhood. This was followed by rather jerky driving and higher rates of speed to the second location, which was closed. This was followed by nearly being run off the road when he pulled out into traffic with very little time to spare, which resulted in a lot of horn-honking on Clay's part and me wishing I could disappear into the leather passenger seat. Now, I should back track and say Clay has looked at other golf stores in lower Michigan and has not found the putter in any of these locations either. However, it is a rather high end putter, plus very new, so frankly, I am not surprised. My husband, on the other hand, takes it as the golf gods being personally out to get him and trying to thwart his chances of acquiring the latest and the greatest. While I understand the frustration, I just do not get the extreme reaction. Must be the testosterone.
* I cannot get this book "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" by Jonathan Safran Foer out of my head. I read it about a week ago in less than two days, and while I have since read another book and, in fact started a third, I am still mentally chewing on it. Mom recommended it to me (mostly because she wanted to discuss it) and it is powerful. I keep finding more themes to it..... loss, and love, and communication. The communication of a grandfather, who doesn't speak except by writing or with his two hands, one tattooed with the word "yes" the other with the word "no" and to write letters he never sends to a son he never meets, a grandmother who types for hours and hours but produces only blank pages, a neighbor who lives as a recluse in his apartment and talks to no one and yet labels everyone he has ever met with a single word, which he then files in a card catalog, and a little boy genius wise beyond his years, who has the ability to communicate with everyone, but does not pick up the phone when the man he most wants to talk to (his Dad) comes over the answering machine, calling from the Twin Towers on September 11th. And that doesn't even get into the structure of the book and how the author uses the text to help convey the story in a way that reminded me of "The Death of Artemio Cruz" by Carlos Fuentes. I almost wish to be back in a college course just so I could talk about it in a classroom setting. Almost.
* A list in the form of projects/repairs on the house, which need to be done if we are, in fact, serious about trying to sell it. We have cleaned the garage and I have repainted a couple of walls, and the pantry, and the kitchen door, but we still need to power wash the exterior, do some caulking, finish some trim and clean, clean, clean.....
* My very nice weekend away for my birthday, which involved a lovely hotel, leisurely meals with no toddler to entertain (no offense, Isabelle), sleeping late, and a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings. Did I mention I love my husband? (road rage and all)
* The Red Wings, blowing game three last night against Nashville. After playing the better game and being the better team, they sat back and played "not to lose" rather then "to win" for the last 15 minutes of the third period. Basically they handed the Predators a chance to get back in the game and then seemed somewhat surprised when they did. I love the Wings, LOVE them, and was so thoroughly disgusted after this loss which puts the series at 2-1 instead of 3-0 (which is a HUGE difference when playing a best of 7 series in the first round of the playoffs) I just could not even look at the television. I must stop as I can feel the blood pressure rising.
* Laughing silently to myself as Clinton and Obama continue to pummel each other into oblivion, hoping to secure the Democratic nomination. "Clinging to guns and religion?" Could we be any more condescending? The man better not come to the U.P with those beliefs! Ah well, maybe it will help McCain.
* Will my daughter ever potty train?
* What should I make for dinner?
* Is it actually possible for me to lose the last few pounds (the ones I have been trying to erase for quite some time now) without resorting to anorexia, bulimia, plastic surgery, or hiring a personal trainer?
* Could our friend Toad (Todd, actually but he goes by Toad) be any nicer? I asked him to check the cats once this weekend while we were gone and he proceeded to check on them both days, bring in the mail and snow blow the driveway when we got six inches of snow. (yes, in April; it is the U.P. some places got over a foot so I consider us lucky.)
And, I guess, that is about it. Until next time.
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