This blog post isn't about Boyfriend of Amazingness... although I'm certain that the title led you to think it absolutely had to be.
No... instead, this post is about pancakes.
This past Sunday was Mother's Day. When I think of Mother's Day, I consider a day mostly celebrated by individuals who buy flowers and remember that they probably ought to thank their Mom for being awesome.
This is simply not how we roll.
Much like our response to Valentine's Day, Boyfriend of Amazingness and I (along with our moms) think that it's pretty important to love people every day, not just on the arbitrary date that the calendar dictates.
Sometimes that means "Hey, Mom, it's Tuesday... wanna get dinner together just because?"
Sometimes it means "No, we don't have any real plans today, except for relaxing. It's not a problem for us to come take a look at your lawn mower. Just give us a few minutes to get dressed and we'll hit the road."
And sometimes it's just a "Hi, I wanted to call and tell you I love you."
Earlier this month, I wrote my Mom a post to thank her for being my Mom.
On Saturday, we went out to a little yarn shop and checked that out together.
And on Sunday, my sister asked me to bring Mom to the restaurant where she (sister) works so she (sister) could cook her (Mom) breakfast.
It's that breakfast that brings me here today.
My sister is pretty incredible in the kitchen.
(Actually, she's incredible everywhere. It's just what she does.)
I'm not a huge morning person. It takes me a little time to get going, and then a little more time to figure out which end is up before I'm ready to eat.
But when I looked at the menu on Sunday - even in my caffeine-less state - something jumped out immediately:
Cheesecake Pancakes with Blueberry Sauce.
My God.
These pancakes, I'm pretty certain, were made of pure magic.
I don't know how they did it.
I only know I'll never - not ever - be able to replicate it with any degree of success.
Firstly, they were the perfect temperature. When I make pancakes at home, I often make a full batch and then (and ONLY then) will I sit down with Boyfriend of Amazingness to dine upon them. Which means that, often, they're tepid and slightly soggy by the time it's time to eat.
These were piping hot. And by piping, I mean that I had to funnel up my face and blow little smoke rings so my tongue wouldn't spontaneously combust. They were the perfect temperature.
Secondly, they actually tasted like cheesecake. When I ordered them, I wasn't certain what to expect. Would there be little chunks of soggy cheesecake in the batter? Would it be weird?
No. It was the perfect mixture of cheesecake magic without losing the pancake consistency.
Thirdly, there was no butter on them. That's the best way to ruin a pancake for me - I don't want butter all up in there. I want to taste the syrupy goodness and nothing else.
And that's exactly what I tasted. The blueberry sauce over the cheesecakey goodness left me thinking "Yum... I just ate the best cheesecake I've ever had in my life."
I've been ruined for all other pancakes.
UPDATE:
Inquiring Minds Want to Know:
"Sunny, where did you get these amazing pancakes? They sound so fabulous that I simply must get some of my very own!"
Well, ReaderFriends, I wish you all the best with that endeavor... However, they were served for breakfast at a restaurant which only opened for breakfast on Mother's Day. They're typically only open after 2:00 p.m., at which point they don't often serve pancakes. However, I'm not one to crush a dream so willy nilly - if you'd like to try to find these pancakes for yourself, get in touch with the good folks of the Back Burner restaurant in Brownfield, Maine. You can find more information here.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Last Six Photos
While trolling my favorite social media site today, I came across a "sponsored post" from someone asking me to look through the last six pictures in my phone, and talk about the story they tell.
I thought that was pretty fascinating, so I thought I'd do it.
However, I'm a photo taking maniac. When a photo opportunity presents itself, I often take more than a dozen shots just to make sure I've got the one I'm looking for.
This was the very first box I packed for our impending move to Our New House. I packed it full of my trinkety shit, and labeled it thusly. Boyfriend of Amazingness said "Didn't I see you put some of my Marvin [the Martian]s in there?" Thus, the ammendment.
I thought that was pretty fascinating, so I thought I'd do it.
However, I'm a photo taking maniac. When a photo opportunity presents itself, I often take more than a dozen shots just to make sure I've got the one I'm looking for.
So instead of looking at the last six pictures, I'm going to look at the last six opportunities and discuss the situations that made me whip out my camera. In case of confusion, I'd like to note that these are in order from newest (photo one) to oldest (photo six).
PHOTO ONE:
My Champion Makes Me Proud
As part of a local medieval group, Boyfriend of Amazingness participates in a sport that involves dressing in armor and whacking his buddies with sticks a la the swordfights of ancient times. Since some difficulties earlier this year, he had been abstaining from this particular activity. However, recently Boyfriend of Amazingness took the field for the first time in months. I was wonderfully proud of him for standing up to his own inhibitions and vanquishing them. His post-practice glow was worth every moment since this past January I've spent worrying that he might give up this hobby entirely.
PHOTO TWO:
A Cunning Hat
Boyfriend of Amazingness was called down to our "local" major league ball field for a weekend job. He had to set up a display, and then sit in the sunshine through seven innings of a ball game while he waited for the opportune moment to take down that display. In his down time, he bought me a little plastic ball cap from my favorite team. The only down side was that it would have had ice cream in it if I were at the ball field with him... and that it's too teeny to fit me.
PHOTO THREE:
Change is Necessary...
I took this photo specifically for the doodle on the fridge. Many moons ago, someone doodled me a doodle on a napkin at a restaurant. More specifically, they doodled it for someone else, who left it behind and created a situation of sadface. I assured them I would bring it home with me instead, and would hang it on my fridge. I did, and it stayed there for almost two years. However, as we started packing for our impending move, I realized that it was time to let the doodle go. This was its parting moment.
PHOTO FOUR:
Dance for Every Belly
I recently led a dance class for pre-schoolers, and found this page in one of the story books I used for the reading portion of our time together. The sentiment is so positive and inspiring that I immediately shared it with my social networking site.
Original credit:" "The Belly Book" by Fran Manushkin (1997).
Original credit:" "The Belly Book" by Fran Manushkin (1997).
PHOTO FIVE:
And So, It Begins
This was the very first box I packed for our impending move to Our New House. I packed it full of my trinkety shit, and labeled it thusly. Boyfriend of Amazingness said "Didn't I see you put some of my Marvin [the Martian]s in there?" Thus, the ammendment.
PHOTO SIX:
You Know... I Like Popcorn, Too...
Does this photo really need its story told? There's popcorn in that bowl. There's a dog with a popcorn frenzy. That's all she wrote.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Superstitions
I'm not a terribly superstitious person.
When I'm cooking, and the recipe calls for salt, I pour what I need into the palm of my cupped hand. I dump that into the bowl and then, because my opposite hand usually has a spoon in it or something, I curl my hand into a fist and try to flick the salt off of my (notoriously clammy) palm with my fingernails. Sometimes I flick over my shoulder. Sometimes I flick in front of me. And sometimes it's asking too much of myself, so I just wipe the extra salt on my pant leg and move on.
When I worked construction, I was often the smallest worker on site. So when someone was working on a ladder and dropped something, or they simply needed ground-level assistance, I would walk under said ladder and do what needed to be done. Sometimes I didn't even just pass under the ladder - I would stand there for moments on end. I was little, and I fit. So it made sense.
For a practical sort of someone (as I can be, from time to time...) superstition just doesn't compute.**1 I don't get the salt thing. I don't get the ladder thing. And I really don't get "Friday the Thirteenth."
Today is Monday the Thirteenth. To me, this seems like the day for superstition.
Fridays are always full of win. It's the end of the work week! It's usually a shorter work day, because people can knock off at 4:30 and head out for pre-weekend happy hour. And even if it's a regular-length work day, it's better because there isn't work in the morning. You can get out of work at your regular time and go see a late movie because you don't have to be up in the morning.
It would make so much more sense to me if Monday the Thirteenth were greeted with superstition.
Mondays suck. End of story. Sometimes you can come in to the office and still be rocking the weekend high, but it doesn't last for long. Work sucks the fun and the hope and the happiness right out of you, and you're left with soul-sucking emptiness and the knowledge that you won't rest freely again for another four nights.
I woke up this morning filled to bursting with trepidation. A couple of important phone calls are on the horizon today, so I'll be waiting anxiously for those all day.
I'm stuck at the switchboard today. That fills me with the angst of boredom, because there simply isn't enough to do here to keep an active mind occupied.
I mean, sure... I've got some invoices to do.
I've got a timecard to fill out.
And I get to look forward to tomorrow, when the Receptionist will return brimming with reports of today's medical procedures.
Does that sound lucky to you?
Happy Monday, ReaderFriends!
**1 Boyfriend of Amazingness is even more practical than I, and is absolutely heedless of superstition. Yesterday we fell into a discussion of the tradition wherein a man carries his lady across the threshold of their new home. It's a subject a few friends have broached with us, declaring that (if he loves me at all) he must tote me in. We finally pinpointed his confusion over the situation as we realized that he hadn't the foggiest from whence this tradition had stemmed.**2
**2 In case you're foggy on it too: The tradition came from those age-old days where, typically, a man and his brandy-new bride would get a new home as a wedding gift from their parents, or would purchase a new home that they moved into immediately following their wedding. It was terrible luck for a bride to trip on the threshold of her brandy-new home, and if she did, she couldn't live there. Thus a tradition was born: The man, in order to have a happy and healthy home complete with the bride he just married, would tote her over the threshold and therefore avoid any tripping hazard that might impede his impending conjugal rights. Because, really, that's what it's all about: If the bride can't live there, she can't make his pot roast and they certainly can't do the boogie woogie.
When I'm cooking, and the recipe calls for salt, I pour what I need into the palm of my cupped hand. I dump that into the bowl and then, because my opposite hand usually has a spoon in it or something, I curl my hand into a fist and try to flick the salt off of my (notoriously clammy) palm with my fingernails. Sometimes I flick over my shoulder. Sometimes I flick in front of me. And sometimes it's asking too much of myself, so I just wipe the extra salt on my pant leg and move on.
When I worked construction, I was often the smallest worker on site. So when someone was working on a ladder and dropped something, or they simply needed ground-level assistance, I would walk under said ladder and do what needed to be done. Sometimes I didn't even just pass under the ladder - I would stand there for moments on end. I was little, and I fit. So it made sense.
For a practical sort of someone (as I can be, from time to time...) superstition just doesn't compute.**1 I don't get the salt thing. I don't get the ladder thing. And I really don't get "Friday the Thirteenth."
Today is Monday the Thirteenth. To me, this seems like the day for superstition.
Fridays are always full of win. It's the end of the work week! It's usually a shorter work day, because people can knock off at 4:30 and head out for pre-weekend happy hour. And even if it's a regular-length work day, it's better because there isn't work in the morning. You can get out of work at your regular time and go see a late movie because you don't have to be up in the morning.
It would make so much more sense to me if Monday the Thirteenth were greeted with superstition.
Mondays suck. End of story. Sometimes you can come in to the office and still be rocking the weekend high, but it doesn't last for long. Work sucks the fun and the hope and the happiness right out of you, and you're left with soul-sucking emptiness and the knowledge that you won't rest freely again for another four nights.
I woke up this morning filled to bursting with trepidation. A couple of important phone calls are on the horizon today, so I'll be waiting anxiously for those all day.
I'm stuck at the switchboard today. That fills me with the angst of boredom, because there simply isn't enough to do here to keep an active mind occupied.
I mean, sure... I've got some invoices to do.
I've got a timecard to fill out.
And I get to look forward to tomorrow, when the Receptionist will return brimming with reports of today's medical procedures.
Does that sound lucky to you?
Happy Monday, ReaderFriends!
**1 Boyfriend of Amazingness is even more practical than I, and is absolutely heedless of superstition. Yesterday we fell into a discussion of the tradition wherein a man carries his lady across the threshold of their new home. It's a subject a few friends have broached with us, declaring that (if he loves me at all) he must tote me in. We finally pinpointed his confusion over the situation as we realized that he hadn't the foggiest from whence this tradition had stemmed.**2
**2 In case you're foggy on it too: The tradition came from those age-old days where, typically, a man and his brandy-new bride would get a new home as a wedding gift from their parents, or would purchase a new home that they moved into immediately following their wedding. It was terrible luck for a bride to trip on the threshold of her brandy-new home, and if she did, she couldn't live there. Thus a tradition was born: The man, in order to have a happy and healthy home complete with the bride he just married, would tote her over the threshold and therefore avoid any tripping hazard that might impede his impending conjugal rights. Because, really, that's what it's all about: If the bride can't live there, she can't make his pot roast and they certainly can't do the boogie woogie.
Friday, May 10, 2013
Scatterbrain
I so desperately want to be funny today.
I mean, I've mental-listed all over you all week, so it's about time I share something comedic... right?
But the funniest thing that's happened to me today is a coworker calling to ask if I could take care of the delinquents in the back parking lot who appear to be smoking a crack pipe.**1
So... not a whole lot of fodder there.
Which means I'm prompting it today!
But instead of just one prompt that I'll run with, I think I'll try to answer - in three sentences or less - a multitude of blog prompts.
Let's see where this takes us, shall we?
What show from your childhood would you love to bring back?
I'm not qualified to answer this question, since I don't have a television and I'm not certain what they're airing these days. But I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn't request more episodes of Firefly, which originally aired when I was a child. I guess I pick that.
Try a picture prompt for inspiration.
Okay. This picture looks like I do in the morning, after I've started to perk up but before I've got the gumption to wash my hair. Or maybe after a long day of sticking my fingers in light sockets at the theater, which would explain why I'm singing opera and even my hair is emoting.
What’s the best vacation you ever had?
I like lots of different parts of lots of different vacations. It wouldn't be fair to them for me to choose just one.
If someone gave you a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, where would you go?
I think I would probably go where the ticket told me to. I couldn't very well fly to Bora Bora if my ticket said I was destined for Yugoslavia... Although in retrospect, I probably wouldn't accept a free ticket to Yugoslavia.
What’s your favorite rainy day movie?
I'm going to assume this is asking about which movie I enjoy watching on a rainy day. Which is silly, because I don't watch movies on rainy days. On rainy days I listen to the rain and I nap, except when I'm making cookies.
Write a “day in the life” post.
Melvin is a tiny hippopotamus. He lives by himself because he's tiny and the other hippopotami would squish him if they were to hang out together. He wakes, he eats, he poops and he sleeps.
If you could be any age again for a week, which would you choose?
I think I would enjoy being fourteen again. Three boys - a sixteen-year-old, a five-year-old and a two-year-old - kept me running straight through it. One I ran with, and two I ran after. It was a wonderful year.**2
Which of the four seasons best suits your personality?
Springtime, when the sun comes back out and life comes back into the world. It's happy and bubbly and people remember the good stuff. I'm happy and bubbly and sometimes I smell like flowers, but some other times I smell like swamp water (which also happens in the spring).
Search for a random quote. Respond to it on your blog.
I Googled "random quote," and in the interest of posterity I selected the first web page. The quote is "Never compare your inside with somebody else's outside" by Hugh Macleod. I think the dude is on to something there - I could never make my intestines look like someone's face, and it would be silly for me to try.
Describe (in words or photos) your favorite reading space. My favorite reading space would be a big comfy chair that I can curl up in. It would be just large enough that my legs don't get cramped, but not so large that it deters from the small-reading-nook feel. It would be ideal if it had a cupholder for my beverage and if it were well lit.
Which five characters from novels would you have dinner with?
Charlie and Drew from "A Total Waste of Makeup" by Kim Gruenenfelder
Stephanie and Ranger from Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series
Harold from "Harold and The Purple Crayon" by Crockett Johnson**3
If you could have personally witnessed one event in history, what would you want to have seen?
I think I would like to have witnessed the day that Disney World opened. I bet there was lots of free stuff.
Who is your favorite literary character of all-time?
I think we ought to circle back to Harold here. He's just so optimistic, artistic and pleasant. And he eats like a bird, which leaves lots of leftover pie for anyone who hangs out with him.
Create a photo post.
I'm sorry, I can't. I don't have a camera. But I can share this photo of my socks that I posted a while ago, because they're pretty cool.
Write a post with a “cliffhanger” that you’ll resolve in a later post.
Melvin the hippopotamus woke up one day and decided that he wanted to shake things up.
Who is your favorite villain?
I think you're missing the point of villains, prompt generator. A favorite villain is an oxy-moron, like "delicious fat-free ice cream." Although perhaps Ben and Jerry's could be considered villainous towards waistlines, so I guess I pick them.
Your book is a movie! Who’s in your dream cast?
I, obviously, am played by Scarlett Johansen. It would only make sense that Boyfriend of Amazingness be played by someone like Robert Downey Jr, who is a funny and sexy badass. Minor characters need not apply... because they'd probably be burned up by the amazing supernova created when these stars' proximity breaches minimum acceptable distance.
5 Items you would buy with a million dollars.
(3) houses - one apiece for my mother and my sister, and one for Boyfriend of Amazingness and I to share - (1) subcompact car for me and (1) new truck for Boyfriend of Amazingess
Yeah... I think that'll do. Happy Friday, ReaderFriends!
**1 My question was this: If it wigs you out to hear me tell you that I have to go pee, how in the hell do you know what a crack pipe is?
**2 Oops. That was a four sentencer.
**3 HA. Five people, three sentences.
I mean, I've mental-listed all over you all week, so it's about time I share something comedic... right?
But the funniest thing that's happened to me today is a coworker calling to ask if I could take care of the delinquents in the back parking lot who appear to be smoking a crack pipe.**1
So... not a whole lot of fodder there.
Which means I'm prompting it today!
But instead of just one prompt that I'll run with, I think I'll try to answer - in three sentences or less - a multitude of blog prompts.
Let's see where this takes us, shall we?
What show from your childhood would you love to bring back?
I'm not qualified to answer this question, since I don't have a television and I'm not certain what they're airing these days. But I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn't request more episodes of Firefly, which originally aired when I was a child. I guess I pick that.
Try a picture prompt for inspiration.
 |
| I found this picture at http://www.creativity-portal.com/prompts/365/pictures.html. |
What’s the best vacation you ever had?
I like lots of different parts of lots of different vacations. It wouldn't be fair to them for me to choose just one.
If someone gave you a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, where would you go?
I think I would probably go where the ticket told me to. I couldn't very well fly to Bora Bora if my ticket said I was destined for Yugoslavia... Although in retrospect, I probably wouldn't accept a free ticket to Yugoslavia.
What’s your favorite rainy day movie?
I'm going to assume this is asking about which movie I enjoy watching on a rainy day. Which is silly, because I don't watch movies on rainy days. On rainy days I listen to the rain and I nap, except when I'm making cookies.
Write a “day in the life” post.
Melvin is a tiny hippopotamus. He lives by himself because he's tiny and the other hippopotami would squish him if they were to hang out together. He wakes, he eats, he poops and he sleeps.
If you could be any age again for a week, which would you choose?
I think I would enjoy being fourteen again. Three boys - a sixteen-year-old, a five-year-old and a two-year-old - kept me running straight through it. One I ran with, and two I ran after. It was a wonderful year.**2
Which of the four seasons best suits your personality?
Springtime, when the sun comes back out and life comes back into the world. It's happy and bubbly and people remember the good stuff. I'm happy and bubbly and sometimes I smell like flowers, but some other times I smell like swamp water (which also happens in the spring).
Search for a random quote. Respond to it on your blog.
I Googled "random quote," and in the interest of posterity I selected the first web page. The quote is "Never compare your inside with somebody else's outside" by Hugh Macleod. I think the dude is on to something there - I could never make my intestines look like someone's face, and it would be silly for me to try.
Describe (in words or photos) your favorite reading space. My favorite reading space would be a big comfy chair that I can curl up in. It would be just large enough that my legs don't get cramped, but not so large that it deters from the small-reading-nook feel. It would be ideal if it had a cupholder for my beverage and if it were well lit.
Which five characters from novels would you have dinner with?
Charlie and Drew from "A Total Waste of Makeup" by Kim Gruenenfelder
Stephanie and Ranger from Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series
Harold from "Harold and The Purple Crayon" by Crockett Johnson**3
If you could have personally witnessed one event in history, what would you want to have seen?
I think I would like to have witnessed the day that Disney World opened. I bet there was lots of free stuff.
Who is your favorite literary character of all-time?
I think we ought to circle back to Harold here. He's just so optimistic, artistic and pleasant. And he eats like a bird, which leaves lots of leftover pie for anyone who hangs out with him.
Create a photo post.
I'm sorry, I can't. I don't have a camera. But I can share this photo of my socks that I posted a while ago, because they're pretty cool.
Write a post with a “cliffhanger” that you’ll resolve in a later post.
Melvin the hippopotamus woke up one day and decided that he wanted to shake things up.
Who is your favorite villain?
I think you're missing the point of villains, prompt generator. A favorite villain is an oxy-moron, like "delicious fat-free ice cream." Although perhaps Ben and Jerry's could be considered villainous towards waistlines, so I guess I pick them.
Your book is a movie! Who’s in your dream cast?
I, obviously, am played by Scarlett Johansen. It would only make sense that Boyfriend of Amazingness be played by someone like Robert Downey Jr, who is a funny and sexy badass. Minor characters need not apply... because they'd probably be burned up by the amazing supernova created when these stars' proximity breaches minimum acceptable distance.
5 Items you would buy with a million dollars.
(3) houses - one apiece for my mother and my sister, and one for Boyfriend of Amazingness and I to share - (1) subcompact car for me and (1) new truck for Boyfriend of Amazingess
Yeah... I think that'll do. Happy Friday, ReaderFriends!
**1 My question was this: If it wigs you out to hear me tell you that I have to go pee, how in the hell do you know what a crack pipe is?
**2 Oops. That was a four sentencer.
**3 HA. Five people, three sentences.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Zoom! Zoom! Zoom!
I love The Big Bang Theory.
Now, I don't have cable... or regular television at all, really... so I just own every available season on DVD and watch them over and over again until I've memorized every line and found every idiosyncracy that helps me feel connected to the show.
As such, many of my day-to-day happenings can be fit inside the parameters of this SitCom.
For instance, today my brain feels like Flash Sheldon with The Banana.
(Video Credit - ZoMBiSLaYa on YouTube, and to Chuck Lorre/Bill Prady who write this ingenious stuff.)
But my body isn't keeping up.
Seriously. My brain is running about a thousand miles a minute, and all I want to do is write a funny blog post and take a nap. But instead it's all fixated.
It's thinking about how I'm supposed to have dinner tonight with my god daughter. We were going to get lunch, but I'm stuck at work. So instead we're going to meet for dinner, possibly with our guys, and then get ice cream. Ice cream is delicious. I wish I had some now.
Mother's Day is on Sunday. I've already coordinated her gift - phone and internet! Wahoo! - but am still feeling like something isn't taken care of yet. I'll see her on Saturday... maybe that's it? That the gift isn't the point, and that I miss her and want to give her a hug? Saturday will be busy, but there will be time for hugs.
Saturday... I have to make sure I'm ready. I need to download the music, and make sure the playlist is taken care of. I need to locate the box that's holding the music player and the music transmitter, and make sure it's packed and ready to go. I need to make sure the tiny hip scarves are ready, and that I've tracked down my glitter markers. And I need to pack the books.
And while we're thinking about Mother's Day, we ought to do something for Boyfriend of Amazingness' mom. She asked that we not, but we should do something... I mean, seriously. She's Mom.
I need to answer the phone that's currently ringing. Wow, my voice sounds weird... so slow and calm. It almost makes me feel more crazy to hear me.
That's right, I totally forgot. I'm at work. I have invoices to take care of. And an e-mail to draft to a client, after I've finalized that document. I should take care of that before I forget.
But speaking of e-mails... I have to make sure I've taken care of everything from the Realtor. And the bank. And the people who're touching base about my hobbies, with whom I've got to follow up.
The Realtor. Ugh. Is there anything I owe them? Have we done everything we can? What if the Seller isn't holding up their end of the bargain? Is there absolutely anything I can do about it?
No.
Stop.
TOO FAST.
Right now, I can focus on work. I can focus on hiking up my shirt - which, by the way, is slowly slithering south to show off my new pink-and-white striped bra to the whole world - and taking care of immediate issues.
Because, seriously, I'm not built for this craziness. My body is sleepy and lethargic. Which wouldn't be an issue if I had gone to sleep instead of lying in bed last evening listening to the rain against the window and trying to think of a synonym for "tap" that would explain the sound it was making. If I had just shut my brain up last night and slept, I wouldn't be in this conundrum at all.
But instead I indulged in some wordcraft, while it was too dark to write. So it all rattled around in my brain.
Serves me right, silly girl that I am.
Now, I don't have cable... or regular television at all, really... so I just own every available season on DVD and watch them over and over again until I've memorized every line and found every idiosyncracy that helps me feel connected to the show.
As such, many of my day-to-day happenings can be fit inside the parameters of this SitCom.
For instance, today my brain feels like Flash Sheldon with The Banana.
(Video Credit - ZoMBiSLaYa on YouTube, and to Chuck Lorre/Bill Prady who write this ingenious stuff.)
But my body isn't keeping up.
Seriously. My brain is running about a thousand miles a minute, and all I want to do is write a funny blog post and take a nap. But instead it's all fixated.
It's thinking about how I'm supposed to have dinner tonight with my god daughter. We were going to get lunch, but I'm stuck at work. So instead we're going to meet for dinner, possibly with our guys, and then get ice cream. Ice cream is delicious. I wish I had some now.
Mother's Day is on Sunday. I've already coordinated her gift - phone and internet! Wahoo! - but am still feeling like something isn't taken care of yet. I'll see her on Saturday... maybe that's it? That the gift isn't the point, and that I miss her and want to give her a hug? Saturday will be busy, but there will be time for hugs.
Saturday... I have to make sure I'm ready. I need to download the music, and make sure the playlist is taken care of. I need to locate the box that's holding the music player and the music transmitter, and make sure it's packed and ready to go. I need to make sure the tiny hip scarves are ready, and that I've tracked down my glitter markers. And I need to pack the books.
And while we're thinking about Mother's Day, we ought to do something for Boyfriend of Amazingness' mom. She asked that we not, but we should do something... I mean, seriously. She's Mom.
I need to answer the phone that's currently ringing. Wow, my voice sounds weird... so slow and calm. It almost makes me feel more crazy to hear me.
That's right, I totally forgot. I'm at work. I have invoices to take care of. And an e-mail to draft to a client, after I've finalized that document. I should take care of that before I forget.
But speaking of e-mails... I have to make sure I've taken care of everything from the Realtor. And the bank. And the people who're touching base about my hobbies, with whom I've got to follow up.
The Realtor. Ugh. Is there anything I owe them? Have we done everything we can? What if the Seller isn't holding up their end of the bargain? Is there absolutely anything I can do about it?
No.
Stop.
TOO FAST.
Right now, I can focus on work. I can focus on hiking up my shirt - which, by the way, is slowly slithering south to show off my new pink-and-white striped bra to the whole world - and taking care of immediate issues.
Because, seriously, I'm not built for this craziness. My body is sleepy and lethargic. Which wouldn't be an issue if I had gone to sleep instead of lying in bed last evening listening to the rain against the window and trying to think of a synonym for "tap" that would explain the sound it was making. If I had just shut my brain up last night and slept, I wouldn't be in this conundrum at all.
But instead I indulged in some wordcraft, while it was too dark to write. So it all rattled around in my brain.
Serves me right, silly girl that I am.
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