Things that Penetrated the Foggy Melancholy

The craptastic environment has been getting to me. Everywhere I go, friends are being laid off of work and those that do still have a job are waiting for it to go, too. Everyone is stressed out and mentally hiding away in fuzzy fleece jammies with a stash of Ben&Jerrys and a Cadbury Bar thrown in.

Well, that's where I've been anyway.

So because It's been WAY TOO LONG since I posted, and I have a million wonderful, funny, amusing and just plain interesting things to say, but not the will power to say it, I will leave you all with this:

A list of things that penetrated the foggy haze of my melancholy this past month:



* Evie says "Eyeuvoo, Mommy"
* Abby still let's me hold her close, at least when none of her friends are looking
* David makes the best Alfredo sauce, but gamely tells me how good mine is
* My Mom doesn't remember what I said to her 5 minutes ago, but she can still make the BEST french toast in the whole wide world (is that like muscle memory?)
* Aspen still *floofs* her butt in the air and lolls out her tongue when I say "Who's a Pretty Girl???"
* Jeepers runs past me, into the barn, flings the cover off the grain bin, steals a mouthful and then turns to wisely love me up before I take a pitchfork to his butt
* Abby wants to be an Animal Protector when she grows up. And a Dragon Rider
* Evie checks the 2nd graders' classwork and sagely nods her head if they are doing it right
* Old books are like old friends. You know every word, every story, every nuance, and welcome them each like a new discovery on a well-worn path
* David gave me the warm blanket, even when he could have had it for himself
* Evie looks out her window when she wakes up. I begin our morning litany with "Good Morning..." and she says the thing we're saying good morning to outside of her window. As in, "Good morning, tree. Good morning, snow. Good morning, bushes." Only one recent morning, as we looked out her window and I began by saying "Good Morning...." she piped up with "Og poop." Okay, then. "Good morning Dog Poop." Apparently, that's what she saw when she looked out her window.


So there it is, friends. My motto of the month. "Good Morning, Dog Poop."


Oh, and yes, my butt still hurts. I could never have imagined going over 6 weeks without sitting comfortably. I have no trouble imagining it now.