Just Another Manic Monday

1.  Actually, today wasn't that manic.  I mean, I kept moving, but I made sure to take a few breaths between here and there, you know, while I was moving.  There's nothing wrong with praying while you make the bed.  It's not really multitasking.  I just talk to God a lot.  Back to the title of this post, Nora asked while climbing over the back of the couch, "Mom, are you from the 80's" like it was some distant planet.  "Yes, I'm from the 80's."  And then I see the distant planet and Prince is there.  And we're all walking like Egyptians, and I have over 52 Michael J. Fox posters I pulled out of Teen Beat magazine with a single Ralph Macchio poster on the door because Michael has yet to respond to any of my letters, and I might be dumping him despite the 3 years of allowance I've poured into magazines I don't even read.

2.  I had to cut back part of the cedar tree so the propane man will be able to fill our tank come winter weather, so I decided to attempt to build some furniture for the Woodsies that Nora and I have been playing with lately.  I kind of surprised myself.  I mean, yeah, I'm a carpenter's daughter.  I know what a hammer does, but I had no idea how useful I could be on a deserted island.  I'm reading The Road right now (Cormac McCarthy), so I've been thinking a lot about survival.  Anyway, if you're planning on going Gilligan's Island on us, might I suggest the following design for your own custom built furniture?

Cozy, eh?

3.  While out deadheading flowers and collecting seeds, I discovered that we have another pet on the farm.  Yeah, that's my hand.  And, yes, I was afraid to hold it even this close to what appears to be a flesh-eating alien from the planet 80's.  I mean, no.  Just.  No.

4.  Reading nonfiction pieces tonight while the combine makes its way growling through the seed corn in the south field, lights in the night on the inside and the outside, everyone wanting to do the job they've been given no matter what time it finds them.

5.  Reading under a shady tree near the baseball fields, and I lift my eyes from the page and expect a world covered in ash.  Cormac McCarthy, I love you.  I hope my students will also love you tomorrow.

6.  If I make it past that guard bug, that is.