Come one, come all to the sale of the week!
Today we are featuring a fresh, perfectly ripe Monday. This 24-hour experience comes jam-packed with responsibilities, duties, to-do lists and more! It will include difficult clients, minor traffic, cardio class of death and a brand-spanking new blister from high heels.
It does not include a lunch date with a particular book at Barnes and Noble, homemade spaghetti ready to go in the fridge for dinner and a Wii bowling tournament with a very lovable boy.
Only the grown-up part of this day is for sale - repeat - batteries and fun activities NOT included!
This Monday is for sale to the best bidder - bring your yen, wampum, live chickens or jelly beans - will barter for anything except pickles and mud!
Monday, July 26, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Singing On The Potty And A Cookie In Each Hand.
I graduated from college last weekend. That feels weird to say.
It was the culmination of four years of blood, sweat, tears and alcohol cram-packed into three days of exhausting celebration. As I arrived at the final party after graduation, I sat in my car for a moment assessing my blisters, tired legs and fried brain. The thought of facing one more hug, as precious as they were to me, was almost more then my overstimulated mind could bear. One more repetition of my one-sentence plan for life, one more "I'm the happiest gal around" grin, one more piece of cake..... OK the cake convinced me to go inside.
Upon entering, I heard a strange sound coming from the nearby loo. Five year-old Ella was perched on the potty singing BINGO at the top of her sweet lungs. Her enthusiam was, if oddly placed, contagious.
I continued on and was greeted by three year-0ld Amos, who with a cookie in each hand yanked me down to eye-level with a nod of his head and, as if letting me in the greatest secret of his young life, pointed toward the kitchen and whispered - "they give TREATS in there".
Finally I sat down to eat my first real meal of the day - OK it was cake -and seven year-old Abie patted my back and said "congratulations on your achievement!".
These little moments with those little people initially provoked laughter... but then provoked thought. I have a brand spanking new degree - a new job, a new sense of independence....and apparently many people itching to feed me cake. I should be singing from the potty! I should have a cookie in each hand like I am queen of the world! And I should quickly enhance my vocabulary or that seven year-old is going to quickly overtake me with her smarty pants words.
So here I am - enthusiastic, triumphant and with something to say. The world is my oyster and for future reference, I prefer cake to pearls.
It was the culmination of four years of blood, sweat, tears and alcohol cram-packed into three days of exhausting celebration. As I arrived at the final party after graduation, I sat in my car for a moment assessing my blisters, tired legs and fried brain. The thought of facing one more hug, as precious as they were to me, was almost more then my overstimulated mind could bear. One more repetition of my one-sentence plan for life, one more "I'm the happiest gal around" grin, one more piece of cake..... OK the cake convinced me to go inside.
Upon entering, I heard a strange sound coming from the nearby loo. Five year-old Ella was perched on the potty singing BINGO at the top of her sweet lungs. Her enthusiam was, if oddly placed, contagious.
I continued on and was greeted by three year-0ld Amos, who with a cookie in each hand yanked me down to eye-level with a nod of his head and, as if letting me in the greatest secret of his young life, pointed toward the kitchen and whispered - "they give TREATS in there".
Finally I sat down to eat my first real meal of the day - OK it was cake -and seven year-old Abie patted my back and said "congratulations on your achievement!".
These little moments with those little people initially provoked laughter... but then provoked thought. I have a brand spanking new degree - a new job, a new sense of independence....and apparently many people itching to feed me cake. I should be singing from the potty! I should have a cookie in each hand like I am queen of the world! And I should quickly enhance my vocabulary or that seven year-old is going to quickly overtake me with her smarty pants words.
So here I am - enthusiastic, triumphant and with something to say. The world is my oyster and for future reference, I prefer cake to pearls.
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