I need a battle plan.
I love spending time with my grandchildren. Really. I just wish I could spend more and not feel rushed.
Take last night for example:
I agreed last week to watch two of my grandsons because my son-in-law is out of town and my daughter is a photographer who actually gets paid to shoot photos of brides. Sure, she could hire a babysitter, but there is no one like Gramma, except Auntie J (Youngest daughter, designated as favorite aunt by all).
Then on Sunday I agreed to go visiting teaching on Wednesday. For those not of my faith, that is when two women are assigned to visit other women in their congregation to make sure they're OK, all is well and maybe bring a spiritual thought.
Then on Tuesday, I agreed to call about some paper my hubby wanted for a project, thinking he wasn't doing the project until next week.
Naturally he needed the paper Wednesday.
So I'm flying, er, driving quickly from Layton to Ogden to get said paper supplies.
Then I'm hustling back to Syracuse to grab grandsons before daughter has to leave for her appointment.
The 3-year-old let it be known to all within screaming distance he didn't want to go with me. He was tired and wanted home. He screamed all the way from his house to my. And my boss called with a question on a story and I was stupid enough to pick up the phone and he could hear the screaming. Caller ID warned me.
I called hubby. Told him I had the paper, but I needed to go to the grocery store still to get milk and bread. He heard the screaming. He said he'd pick up the milk and bread.
I get to my house, a bit rattled from the flying and fed those adorable boys. (I had chili in a crock pot). Then I'm loading kids in the car to go visiting teaching. You're not supposed to take kids visiting teaching, but I agreed to watch the boys and I was not going to dump them on Rod (who had meetings scheduled for the evening) or Aunt J. (She is temporarily living at my house until her house is ready.) I could also see Aunt J was very tired. She's a special ed teacher at a junior high school.
Rod arrived as I was loading the two munchkins. (OK, I was chasing the smallest around the car to put him in.)
Rod offered, bless him, to watch the 3-year-old, who had no desire to go to strange house (he was twisting his face in "I'm going to scream loudly" mode).
The 6-year-old wanted to go with me. Visiting teaching... um, an adventure his mom hasn't allowed him to do.
"So do they have kids?" he asked.
"A daughter, but she's a teenager," I said.
"How about treats?" he said.
"We don't ask for treats." I said.
"Will the daughter play with me?"
"Nope. You get to sit by me."
"I should've stayed with papa."
"Tough beans."
30 minutes later, we're back at the house, loading the boys in the car, so they can go home, pick up toys (easier said then done), and take a tub (I wiped up all the water splashed out of the tub), read books (how many books can Grandma read before she falls asleep) and then hopefully they will zonk out.
It seemed the plan was going fine, until the 6-year-old let strangers into his house. Ok, they were strange to me. I didn't know them. No one told me some people were coming by to get some things. All I saw when I walked out of the bathroom (helping 3-year-old brush his teeth) was a very tall man I never met before in my daughter's kitchen.
Yup, the witch appeared, also. I'm good as a witch.
"Excuse me, who are you? And why are you in my kitchen?"
"Uh, Terra said..."
At least he knew whose house he was in.:)
Now on for tonight's adventure.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
My birthday
So today is my birthday. I'm officially 27 years away from 80 so that's how old I am.
80 seems to me a scary age. It seems very, very old because women in my family on both sides have croaked around that age. I don't plan on dying before I'm 80 or anytime around it simply because my husband's genes will make it so he lives to be 100 or something, and I refuse to be replaced. He would replace me.
Replacing people. ...brings me to the Dirty Dash. It's a race for charities that people actually sign up and pay to do so they can get muddy and cold in Midway.
My son-in-law, Josh, signed up for it. No big deal. But then he convinced two of his brothers to be part of his team, "The Dirty Heros," and my other son-in-law, Tyler. A friend was also supposed to run with them. A family emergency happened, and my son Chad was conned into running with them.
Josh bought white tank tops for all of his team members, superhero briefs and colored tights. Or what he thought was tights. They were not opaque. But the briefs covered, barely, what needed to be covered.
Chad, who is 29, has ran two marathons. His times have been, OK, really good, like 3 hours and 14 minutes and 3 hours and 19 minutes. I'm a mom. I remember these things. (OK, so both races were within the last year). Chad runs several times a week, if not every day.
Josh, his brothers and Tyler are lucky to run once a week.
So there we were in Midway on Saturday, with these five men dressed as super hereos, ready to get muddy. It was a bit brisk, temperature wise, but these five men weren't going to let chilly weather deter them. They took off with about a hundred other runners dressed in colorful costumes to run cross country through lakes, mud and obstacles.
Chad believed his pace was slow enough for the other four to keep up.
Nope, Chad, who is thin, with no body fat, had to wait for the others to catch up so he could face the cheering crowds with some support. He was freezing before it was done.
But as I watched all five men swing across the hay stack, yes, swing, I was really proud of them. By this time, they were covered in mud, with mud in their noses, eyes, hair and ears. Sure their attire was comical, but they were doing it to help others. I was also humbled by the number of people who ran the race. Some did it for a specific cause, others, like my team, did it for all.
80 seems to me a scary age. It seems very, very old because women in my family on both sides have croaked around that age. I don't plan on dying before I'm 80 or anytime around it simply because my husband's genes will make it so he lives to be 100 or something, and I refuse to be replaced. He would replace me.
Replacing people. ...brings me to the Dirty Dash. It's a race for charities that people actually sign up and pay to do so they can get muddy and cold in Midway.
My son-in-law, Josh, signed up for it. No big deal. But then he convinced two of his brothers to be part of his team, "The Dirty Heros," and my other son-in-law, Tyler. A friend was also supposed to run with them. A family emergency happened, and my son Chad was conned into running with them.
Josh bought white tank tops for all of his team members, superhero briefs and colored tights. Or what he thought was tights. They were not opaque. But the briefs covered, barely, what needed to be covered.
Chad, who is 29, has ran two marathons. His times have been, OK, really good, like 3 hours and 14 minutes and 3 hours and 19 minutes. I'm a mom. I remember these things. (OK, so both races were within the last year). Chad runs several times a week, if not every day.
Josh, his brothers and Tyler are lucky to run once a week.
So there we were in Midway on Saturday, with these five men dressed as super hereos, ready to get muddy. It was a bit brisk, temperature wise, but these five men weren't going to let chilly weather deter them. They took off with about a hundred other runners dressed in colorful costumes to run cross country through lakes, mud and obstacles.
Chad believed his pace was slow enough for the other four to keep up.
Nope, Chad, who is thin, with no body fat, had to wait for the others to catch up so he could face the cheering crowds with some support. He was freezing before it was done.
But as I watched all five men swing across the hay stack, yes, swing, I was really proud of them. By this time, they were covered in mud, with mud in their noses, eyes, hair and ears. Sure their attire was comical, but they were doing it to help others. I was also humbled by the number of people who ran the race. Some did it for a specific cause, others, like my team, did it for all.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Procrastination
Procrastination or in my definitions: working on a deadline or even a looming deadline or a tight deadline.
I live for deadlines. Deadline is a funny word. Editors will kill me if I don't meet the deadline, hence deadline. While working on projects at home to meet deadlines, like Christmas, birthdays, vacations or serving Sunday dinner to 21 people, my husband and children usually have wanted to kill me as I stress toward the deadline.
I know with some projects, including work, I can organize myself so I'm not stressing out as the deadline approaches. But I can't help myself. I'll wait and wait until there is hardly any time and then dive in, taking everyone around me into deadline mania.
You see I'm proscrastinating now. I should be writing a story. But I don't want to. That happens when I've either churned several stories out already. Monday I wrote three. Tuesday two. Today one and two more to go before 7 p.m. The other one, I could get done in less than an hour if I just buckle down. It's for the weekend. Interviews done. Research done. But hey...
It's like when I get home tonight, I will be on deadline writing a story for Thursday's paper. I will also be on deadline for this weekend's family activity. I just have to keep breathing. I have this list in my head. I could put it in ink, but then I get overwhelmed and I find a book.
It's like Maxine, my favorite comic strip character said today on my desk calendar, "Never put off till tomorrow what you can just ignore indefinitely."
I live for deadlines. Deadline is a funny word. Editors will kill me if I don't meet the deadline, hence deadline. While working on projects at home to meet deadlines, like Christmas, birthdays, vacations or serving Sunday dinner to 21 people, my husband and children usually have wanted to kill me as I stress toward the deadline.
I know with some projects, including work, I can organize myself so I'm not stressing out as the deadline approaches. But I can't help myself. I'll wait and wait until there is hardly any time and then dive in, taking everyone around me into deadline mania.
You see I'm proscrastinating now. I should be writing a story. But I don't want to. That happens when I've either churned several stories out already. Monday I wrote three. Tuesday two. Today one and two more to go before 7 p.m. The other one, I could get done in less than an hour if I just buckle down. It's for the weekend. Interviews done. Research done. But hey...
It's like when I get home tonight, I will be on deadline writing a story for Thursday's paper. I will also be on deadline for this weekend's family activity. I just have to keep breathing. I have this list in my head. I could put it in ink, but then I get overwhelmed and I find a book.
It's like Maxine, my favorite comic strip character said today on my desk calendar, "Never put off till tomorrow what you can just ignore indefinitely."
Friday, August 12, 2011
Noise
My husband is one of the most positive persons I know. He wakes up happy. He's smiling and laughing before he even gets out of the shower.
He has learned though if he wants happiness to spread, not to talk to me first thing in the morning. I can't deal with noise, talking or anything for the first 30 minutes or so after I wake up. If my glasses are not on my face, I'm officially not awake.
I was never really a morning person. I'm usually grumpy when I wake up. I have tried to focus on thoughts like, "Heavenly Father created this day, so I will have a great day."
That lasts about five minutes if I'm lucky. Then I'm grumpy again because I will notice the pile of clothes that need to be folded or put away, or the dog is yapping because she wants to go for a walk, or I'm really trying to sleep in and the mourning doves are hooting or cooing or whatever they do outside my window.
But my husband. He's up and happy and he can't even sleep in! I mean, for rude! Even on a rare Saturday when he doesn't have a church assignment or a family event, he is up by 6 a.m. ready to see what adventure or havoc he can create for the day. Usually havoc.
He thinks mowing the lawn at 6 a.m. is a perfect time because it's cooler. Ok, but it's noisy! Or he'll start a project that includes a saw, weed wacker, pruning shears, or tractor.
I could get mad. I have. But it's useless. It's like telling the sun not to come up. He doesn't get it.
He figures half of the day has gone by by 8 a.m. and he's missed something.
Of course, by 1 p.m. or 2 p.m. on Saturday, he's ready for a nap. He then likes to have quiet.
I'm not a nap person most of the time. By afternoon, I'm ready to vaccum,sew, talk on the phone, watch a movie or do the wash. All noisy ventures.
Maybe it's my way of getting even.... Ummmm. I wonder? :)
He has learned though if he wants happiness to spread, not to talk to me first thing in the morning. I can't deal with noise, talking or anything for the first 30 minutes or so after I wake up. If my glasses are not on my face, I'm officially not awake.
I was never really a morning person. I'm usually grumpy when I wake up. I have tried to focus on thoughts like, "Heavenly Father created this day, so I will have a great day."
That lasts about five minutes if I'm lucky. Then I'm grumpy again because I will notice the pile of clothes that need to be folded or put away, or the dog is yapping because she wants to go for a walk, or I'm really trying to sleep in and the mourning doves are hooting or cooing or whatever they do outside my window.
But my husband. He's up and happy and he can't even sleep in! I mean, for rude! Even on a rare Saturday when he doesn't have a church assignment or a family event, he is up by 6 a.m. ready to see what adventure or havoc he can create for the day. Usually havoc.
He thinks mowing the lawn at 6 a.m. is a perfect time because it's cooler. Ok, but it's noisy! Or he'll start a project that includes a saw, weed wacker, pruning shears, or tractor.
I could get mad. I have. But it's useless. It's like telling the sun not to come up. He doesn't get it.
He figures half of the day has gone by by 8 a.m. and he's missed something.
Of course, by 1 p.m. or 2 p.m. on Saturday, he's ready for a nap. He then likes to have quiet.
I'm not a nap person most of the time. By afternoon, I'm ready to vaccum,sew, talk on the phone, watch a movie or do the wash. All noisy ventures.
Maybe it's my way of getting even.... Ummmm. I wonder? :)
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Family
It's August. The summer is flying by. I really have good intentions, but this summer at work, has been so difficult.
We have to churn out stories constantly. It's not like in the past when an editor would give you actual time to work on a story and make into a masterpiece. I know my editors would love to let me have more time on stories, but they too are under fire.
So when I think about blogging, all I want to do is read other blogs. I don't want to write.
But it's August.
The first of the month rolls around and I don't want to host another gramma sleepover. But I cave in because I know how much my grandchildren look forward to it and my children also look forward to having one night and a Saturday without rug rats.
It's not hard to host the sleepover. My grandkids are good and know the rules and usually play well with one another. I'm just tired after working 40 hours and especially this summer with so much stress at work.
But always, always after they all go home, I'm so grateful I did. I know I'm not just hosting time away from parents, but creating memories.
Like the last one.
Rod bought a tent off of KSL's website. Not just any tent, but a great big tent that can sleep eight adults comfortably. He bought it so HE could use it for Scouts. Well, he made the mistake of putting it up when grandkids were coming over in June. They were all so excited to see it. They thought we were going to sleep in it.
I told them we'd do it in August when Papa would be home to help. He was scheduled to go with Scouts in July. He actually ended up coming home a day early because of the weather, but because of the weather we did not put the tent up that weekend.
Note: (I'm now going to do what my cousins do, refer to my grandchildren as Miss 1 or Mr. 2, not by name in order to protect them).
So Rod and Miss 2, who is 10, (Miss 1 thinks being 15 is too old for sleepovers at Gramala's) spent an hour on Friday putting the tent up. All of the grandkids brought sleeping bags and couldn't wait to get in them. As soon as their parents left, they were inside their sleeping bags on my bed watching Toy Story 3. They pretended to be snakes.
After the movie Rod and Miss 2 took the sleeping bags outside while I got Mr. 2, Mr. 3, Mr. 4 and Miss 3 and Miss 4 in their pajamas. Not much work since they help each other. Miss 3 is 7 so she can dress herself. Mr. 2, who is 6, helped his brother, Mr. 4, who is 2, and also helped Mr. 3, who is 3, get jammies on. It was really cute. Miss 4, is 2 and didn't want anyone to dress her but Gramala.
Mr. 5, who is 10 months, also joined the party on Friday. He is still too young to spend the night with the gang. He also thinks if there are people around he has to party hardy! Definitely my son's son.
Anywho, I ended up in the tent with the six of the seven. Mr. 5 stayed inside the house with Papa to watch TV until his parents returned from their movie date. Then Papa slept in our comfy bed. It was requested because he snores.
There I was in this tent with six kids, ages 10, 7, 6, 3, 2 and 2. All snug like a bug in their sleeping bags on nice cushions, except Miss 2, who claims sleeping on cushion in a tent is wrong, just plain wrong. She roughed it.
For the first 30 minutes I was playing "Smacking the mole." I didn't really smack anyone, just kept telling Mr. 2 and Miss 2 to get back in their sleeping bags.
I did use the trick I use in Primary of getting kids to behave. I notice and say outloud, "I really am appreciative of Miss 3 staying in her sleeping bag. Oh look, Mr. 3 is trying so hard to go to sleep."
By 11 p.m. all six were asleep.
Now there I was in the tent and I could hear every noise in my neighborhood.
One noise got to me though and I knew for sure a critter --- raccoon or Heaven forbid, a skunk--- was lurking outside. Did I mention my backyard borders a huge cornfield?
Oh my goodness. I had flashlight and I also double checked that Rod, aka Papa, had his cell phone by his head in our bed.
I opened the tent windows and looked for the critter.
No four-legged critter out there but my Brittany, Jade, who took up her post by her gate at the kennel to watch over us.
But the scraping and bumping was loud now. I realized it was coming from the playhouse. Rod and our sons built a playhouse 27 years ago in our backyard. It stands on stilts and a swing is attached.
In late June I discovered a nest in the playhouse. Pigeons had made the playhouse their home. I, um, promised pigeons they would not get evicted. I thought they would be out at the end of July.
So I googled pigeons on my new phone. Pigeons do not leave their nest until they are two months old! I am afraid of all of the poop I'm going to have scrub in September.
So, I'm going to sleep. It's now midnight. Tent door flap opens. I jump up screaming what the? And it's Miss 2, making a bathroom run.
Finally sleep hits me at 2 a.m. I'm awakened at 2:30 by someone poking my face. It's Miss 4. She's 2. And she's seeing if I"m alive or something. I get her back to sleep finally around 3:30.
At 6 a.m. Mother Nature wakes me up.
I know from the past, if I don't hit the shower before the tykes wake up, I won't see a shower until Sunday.
Saturday was a blast as the kids chose their pancake design created by Papa, then blasted each other with squirt guns I bought for $1 a piece. They love running through sprinklers and eating a picnic lunch under our Aunt Eliza tree.
They also love spending the Saturday afternoon taking naps, splashing in the tub, reading books, watching a movie or playing in the toy room.
When they go home, I feel like crying because I already miss their sweet little hugs and their faces. I think "Gosh, I made it!"
And the next sleepover is four more weeks away. I'm so glad my children allow their children to come hang out with us. Yes, it's work. Yes, it's a challenge. Yes, I could spend my time doing....nothing better.
We have to churn out stories constantly. It's not like in the past when an editor would give you actual time to work on a story and make into a masterpiece. I know my editors would love to let me have more time on stories, but they too are under fire.
So when I think about blogging, all I want to do is read other blogs. I don't want to write.
But it's August.
The first of the month rolls around and I don't want to host another gramma sleepover. But I cave in because I know how much my grandchildren look forward to it and my children also look forward to having one night and a Saturday without rug rats.
It's not hard to host the sleepover. My grandkids are good and know the rules and usually play well with one another. I'm just tired after working 40 hours and especially this summer with so much stress at work.
But always, always after they all go home, I'm so grateful I did. I know I'm not just hosting time away from parents, but creating memories.
Like the last one.
Rod bought a tent off of KSL's website. Not just any tent, but a great big tent that can sleep eight adults comfortably. He bought it so HE could use it for Scouts. Well, he made the mistake of putting it up when grandkids were coming over in June. They were all so excited to see it. They thought we were going to sleep in it.
I told them we'd do it in August when Papa would be home to help. He was scheduled to go with Scouts in July. He actually ended up coming home a day early because of the weather, but because of the weather we did not put the tent up that weekend.
Note: (I'm now going to do what my cousins do, refer to my grandchildren as Miss 1 or Mr. 2, not by name in order to protect them).
So Rod and Miss 2, who is 10, (Miss 1 thinks being 15 is too old for sleepovers at Gramala's) spent an hour on Friday putting the tent up. All of the grandkids brought sleeping bags and couldn't wait to get in them. As soon as their parents left, they were inside their sleeping bags on my bed watching Toy Story 3. They pretended to be snakes.
After the movie Rod and Miss 2 took the sleeping bags outside while I got Mr. 2, Mr. 3, Mr. 4 and Miss 3 and Miss 4 in their pajamas. Not much work since they help each other. Miss 3 is 7 so she can dress herself. Mr. 2, who is 6, helped his brother, Mr. 4, who is 2, and also helped Mr. 3, who is 3, get jammies on. It was really cute. Miss 4, is 2 and didn't want anyone to dress her but Gramala.
Mr. 5, who is 10 months, also joined the party on Friday. He is still too young to spend the night with the gang. He also thinks if there are people around he has to party hardy! Definitely my son's son.
Anywho, I ended up in the tent with the six of the seven. Mr. 5 stayed inside the house with Papa to watch TV until his parents returned from their movie date. Then Papa slept in our comfy bed. It was requested because he snores.
There I was in this tent with six kids, ages 10, 7, 6, 3, 2 and 2. All snug like a bug in their sleeping bags on nice cushions, except Miss 2, who claims sleeping on cushion in a tent is wrong, just plain wrong. She roughed it.
For the first 30 minutes I was playing "Smacking the mole." I didn't really smack anyone, just kept telling Mr. 2 and Miss 2 to get back in their sleeping bags.
I did use the trick I use in Primary of getting kids to behave. I notice and say outloud, "I really am appreciative of Miss 3 staying in her sleeping bag. Oh look, Mr. 3 is trying so hard to go to sleep."
By 11 p.m. all six were asleep.
Now there I was in the tent and I could hear every noise in my neighborhood.
One noise got to me though and I knew for sure a critter --- raccoon or Heaven forbid, a skunk--- was lurking outside. Did I mention my backyard borders a huge cornfield?
Oh my goodness. I had flashlight and I also double checked that Rod, aka Papa, had his cell phone by his head in our bed.
I opened the tent windows and looked for the critter.
No four-legged critter out there but my Brittany, Jade, who took up her post by her gate at the kennel to watch over us.
But the scraping and bumping was loud now. I realized it was coming from the playhouse. Rod and our sons built a playhouse 27 years ago in our backyard. It stands on stilts and a swing is attached.
In late June I discovered a nest in the playhouse. Pigeons had made the playhouse their home. I, um, promised pigeons they would not get evicted. I thought they would be out at the end of July.
So I googled pigeons on my new phone. Pigeons do not leave their nest until they are two months old! I am afraid of all of the poop I'm going to have scrub in September.
So, I'm going to sleep. It's now midnight. Tent door flap opens. I jump up screaming what the? And it's Miss 2, making a bathroom run.
Finally sleep hits me at 2 a.m. I'm awakened at 2:30 by someone poking my face. It's Miss 4. She's 2. And she's seeing if I"m alive or something. I get her back to sleep finally around 3:30.
At 6 a.m. Mother Nature wakes me up.
I know from the past, if I don't hit the shower before the tykes wake up, I won't see a shower until Sunday.
Saturday was a blast as the kids chose their pancake design created by Papa, then blasted each other with squirt guns I bought for $1 a piece. They love running through sprinklers and eating a picnic lunch under our Aunt Eliza tree.
They also love spending the Saturday afternoon taking naps, splashing in the tub, reading books, watching a movie or playing in the toy room.
When they go home, I feel like crying because I already miss their sweet little hugs and their faces. I think "Gosh, I made it!"
And the next sleepover is four more weeks away. I'm so glad my children allow their children to come hang out with us. Yes, it's work. Yes, it's a challenge. Yes, I could spend my time doing....nothing better.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
July and random thoughts
It's July. Hot, warm and of course, sunny. Most days anyway.
I had this thought in June I'd work on improving my thinking by following a program of assigned topics. Well, like most projects that are not thought out well, it sunk or stunk. Whichever. Whatever.
So here it is July. My self-esteem is OK. I'm OK. My thinking is OK. After all, I'm 52 and yes, I can improve, but I need to learn to just frankly, be happy with me. How hard is that?
Of course life gets crazy. I mean, husband thinks we need to improve physically and wants to go for long bike rides. I don't mind long bike rides as long as we have time and I'm not feeling like I'm running a race.
My son ran a race. Actually a marathon in Ogden. He ran it in 3 hours and 19 minutes. That's like really fast. He was hoping to run it in 3 hours and 10 minutes. He was upset with himself. I understand he didn't meet his goal, but hey, 3 hours and 19 minutes is amazing! And even more amazing when you learn he ran cross country in high school and almost always came in last.
And my youngest daughter and her husband moved into my house this past week. It's nice to have someone in the house, especially since Rod will be gone a lot this summer with church stoff. But I'm sure by the time they move into their cute home in Roy (and it is cute) they will want their own space.
Space is something they won't have this weekend. The grandkids are coming for the monthly sleepover. It's a week late because I worked this past weekend. We are planning on running through the sprinkler and chopping down ice cream bars. The following weekend is Harry Potter movie for me and my adult children, plus their spouses.
I wish we could get the boat out, but life happens. Last year we got it out once and it died in the middle of Willard Bay with the entire gang inside the boat. We had too many people in the boat and the park ranger was not happy with us.
I did get the Goldwing licensed and registerd this past week so Rod has no excuse for a long ride soon.
I need to finish some of my crochet and knit projects. I hate having bags of unfinished projects with lots of yarn sitting in cupboards and shelves yearning to be created into something.
Naturally summer means I need to read. And I have a new phone and discovered something really cool....Kindle AP! And free books, like The Book of Mormon, Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie, The man who knew too much, by G.K. Chesterton and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, are now on my phone!
Too cool! Really!
I had this thought in June I'd work on improving my thinking by following a program of assigned topics. Well, like most projects that are not thought out well, it sunk or stunk. Whichever. Whatever.
So here it is July. My self-esteem is OK. I'm OK. My thinking is OK. After all, I'm 52 and yes, I can improve, but I need to learn to just frankly, be happy with me. How hard is that?
Of course life gets crazy. I mean, husband thinks we need to improve physically and wants to go for long bike rides. I don't mind long bike rides as long as we have time and I'm not feeling like I'm running a race.
My son ran a race. Actually a marathon in Ogden. He ran it in 3 hours and 19 minutes. That's like really fast. He was hoping to run it in 3 hours and 10 minutes. He was upset with himself. I understand he didn't meet his goal, but hey, 3 hours and 19 minutes is amazing! And even more amazing when you learn he ran cross country in high school and almost always came in last.
And my youngest daughter and her husband moved into my house this past week. It's nice to have someone in the house, especially since Rod will be gone a lot this summer with church stoff. But I'm sure by the time they move into their cute home in Roy (and it is cute) they will want their own space.
Space is something they won't have this weekend. The grandkids are coming for the monthly sleepover. It's a week late because I worked this past weekend. We are planning on running through the sprinkler and chopping down ice cream bars. The following weekend is Harry Potter movie for me and my adult children, plus their spouses.
I wish we could get the boat out, but life happens. Last year we got it out once and it died in the middle of Willard Bay with the entire gang inside the boat. We had too many people in the boat and the park ranger was not happy with us.
I did get the Goldwing licensed and registerd this past week so Rod has no excuse for a long ride soon.
I need to finish some of my crochet and knit projects. I hate having bags of unfinished projects with lots of yarn sitting in cupboards and shelves yearning to be created into something.
Naturally summer means I need to read. And I have a new phone and discovered something really cool....Kindle AP! And free books, like The Book of Mormon, Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie, The man who knew too much, by G.K. Chesterton and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, are now on my phone!
Too cool! Really!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)