First I declare that my blog will go out on Thursday and what happens? I miss my own self-imposed deadline. Guess I’ll have to fire me.
But before I do I have to say that the people who respond to this blog are the nicest people in the world. Thank you all. This is blog number10—if you know where the time went please tell me and we can go there and party on someone else’s time. You have heard people speaking about time speeding up? Don’t you find that some days you feel like a test pilot? The adrenaline, the speed, the nerve wracking attention to staying alive? I’ve heard it said that the vibration of the earth is actually ringing faster than it did a few years ago. (The earth can be compared to a giant tuning fork that when struck rings at a certain frequency.)
Well, with all this ringing, pinging and scurrying, I have found a few things I can count on, one is that invariably when you take clothes out of the dryer a piece will land on the floor. When walking through the house in a jacket, with toggles dangling, or even a pocket, one will catch on a door knob and bungee you against the door frame like a sky diver pulling his rip cord. A flake of hay will probably bounce out of the wheelbarrow, and what is it with all those hay bale twines? Two strings per bale, sometimes three, yet they seem to multiply faster than aardvarks. (I don’t believe aardvarks multiply fast, but I like the image better than flies multiplying.)
I’m feeling pretty good today. Thursday when I started this I was feeling out of sorts. Could be that the anticipation of cleaning the garage was worse than doing it, not that the garage is clean. I figure if, like hauling manure, I do a wheelbarrow every day, and soon have a mountain, the converse ought to work on the garage. A pickup truck full of junk taken from the garage to the dump, and before long, viola’ a clean garage. The trouble is I have to keep hauling to get those results, and that sends me into a tailspin.
Monday Baby D was six weeks old. (The picture above is Baby D at six weeks of age.) We took him to El Torito Restaurant to celebrate—he didn’t eat Mexican, but he smelled it, and before long he will be sopping up guacamole with the rest of us. We go to El Torito whenever we want to celebrate, and we celebrate the sun coming up—other things, too, like the day we bought our “Flip” house, and the day we sold it, the day Daughter D found she was pregnant, and now Baby D being six weeks old. Oh gosh, tomorrow he will be seven weeks old—guess we need to go to El Torito again.
Daughter D, Baby D and I are planning a road trip to New Mexico next month. It will be a property search exposition, a “Flip” house search, a fact finding mission. I told my husband his head would explode if he went along for we are traveling with a baby and two dogs, and will be stopping about every two hours, or sooner… Daughter D says to write about it. I could call it Help, I’m Tapped in a Minivan with a Daughter, Two Dogs and a Baby.
Here is a great quote that doesn’t apply to what I have been saying, but applies to life. It is attributed to the Buddha.”The teacher comes to point the way and the student ends up worshipping the pointer.”
Don't forget to check out http://www.wishonawhitehorse.com/
Thanks ever so much,
Joyce
