totally stupid? There are days when I just sit and think about everything I don't know. - how to grind wheat
- what all the settings do on my camera
- quantum physics
- Barack Obama's position on illegal immigration
- where my tweezers are
- my kids' orthodontist's first name (I think it starts with a "T")
- how much a postage stamp costs
- the occupations of pretty much every one of my friend's husbands
- why milk is so flippin' expensive
- how many miles I still have left after my gas gauge reads "empty"
- whether or not there is mustard in our food storage
- who the president of our PTO is
- how to take apart my dvd player
- what purpose the "Farmer's Almanac" serves
- when my entertainment book coupons expire
- what my point was starting this post to begin with...
"The secret of being miserable is to have leisure to bother about whether you are happy or not. The cure for it is occupation."
--George Bernard Shaw
I can never run away from home.Well, okay. I can. I am physically capable. Let's not get all 8th grade English teacher about it. (totally just had a flash of Mr. Houghton at Payson Middle School... Me: "Can I go to the restroom?" Mr. H:"I don't know, CAN you?" Good times.) But the thought came to me last night that if I were to run away, as attractive as it may sound, it would probably end up being a bad idea. Why, you ask? I submit the following:1) Nobody in my family knows where anything is. So, I wouldn't be 5 miles from home before the cell would start ringing. Things like where Mom keeps the scissors, masking tape, gum, garbage bags, food, water, and other necessities...these are mysteries to my children. And Dad, well...Dad knows where the things that Dad cares about are. So, if you want to know where the air compressor and nail gun are, he's your guy. Your Pretty Pretty Princess game, not so much.2) I love my home. My hubby is always saying, "Hon, go out and just be alone and have some time." But, the thing is, I like being at home. I am a homebody. I really don't even WANT to leave...I want EVERYONE ELSE to leave and let me enjoy myself in peace. And--let's face it. I am the only one who really cares if this house is clean. So, I leave, and it's Lord of the Flies up in here.3) I'd have to pack.I really don't think this needs a whole lot of explanation. Packing to me is about as much fun as [insert something nobody finds fun].4) I like my husband.We always joke that if we got divorced we'd drive the new people in our lives crazy with always needing to talk to each other. It's one of the annoying side effects of being married to someone you find genuinely interesting. So, even though I'd enjoy the first few hours of freedom, more than likely I'd be on the phone with him by day's end, having one of our legendary "What are you doing?" "Nothing, what are you doing?" conversations. 5) Gas prices.Hello?? I'd spend a week's paycheck and get to, like, Grand Junction.6) Fine, I'll say it. I'd miss my kids.I'm not going to get all motherly, but, dang it, they are pretty amazing. That's the thing, isn't it? There's the stuff that drives you crazy, but it never even comes close to the stuff that fills your heart and makes you happy. And there's that pull--that pull to be there--to protect, to comfort, to listen, to guide, to love. So. I'm not going anywhere. But I'm still going to fantasize about it, and you can't stop me.
An oldie but a goodie:
"Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise."
--Benjamin Franklin
(This one came to me as I lovingly pushed my two teenagers out the door at 5:45 am for Seminary this morning.)
It's been awhile since I have read something that really knocked my socks off. Here I am, sockless, after reading Here If You Need Me: A True Story by Kate Braestrup. Kate is a wonderful writer who tells the story of losing her husband (a Maine state trooper) in a car crash, and how she works her way through it. She became a chaplain for the Warden Service after his death, and she intertwines stories of some of the many search and rescues she has attended with the story of her moving on as a mother of 4 after her beloved's death.Now, I'll admit that I have an instant affinity for the themes of this book. My husband is in the same profession as hers was. Her job is quite similar to that of a victim's advocate--the job I will take when my youngest goes to school. They had a large-ish family. So perhaps I have a personality suited to find significance to her story. Fair enough.But you know what? A story well told is a story well told. And she really does tell this story painfully, tenderly, optimistically well. Put it on your "to read" list. If you live near me, I might even let you borrow my copy.
Well, look at me, posting a quote. This one is meaning a lot to me these days:
"Learn to be what you are, and learn to resign with good grace all that you are not."
--Henri Frederic Amiel
