A tennis skirt that is not really a tennis skirt (i. e., it doesn't have attached underpants) is not proper attire for shopping at Wal-Mart and especially not for loading one's garden shop purchases into the back of a van on a breezy day.
You would think that after almost 10 years of living in Illinois I would have learned that one always keeps a sweater in the car. Always. And that includes Memorial Day, the "unofficial start of summer." Brrrr.
What is the deal with those great big revolving glass doors? Why do hotels in particular like them so much? If I'm going to have to touch the door and pick up everyone else's germs while I push on the thing trying to get through, I would prefer a normal door that I can walk through at my own pace and not have fear of being crushed or getting my belongings caught in it because I stepped in at the wrong time. It's the 21st century, for crying out loud. Aren't doors just supposed to sense that I'm coming and open like magic?
There sure are a lot of people here. I hope none of them has swine flu.
I know when one is old(er) he or she is said to be "over the hill." But what exactly is "the hill"? Is it good or bad? And have I gotten there yet? If I haven't, how will I know when I do? And will I be filled with exhilaration or overcome by exhaustion?
Have you ever noticed that the words "exhilaration" and "exhaustion" start with the same letters?
How can people look at a chess board for six hours and still want more?
The Claim Jumper has really, really good spinach salads. But $2.75 for a glass of Coke is ridiculous. At that price, I should have ordered a beer!
Was that gal who sold me my coffee at the Starbuck's yesterday even human? I have never bought coffee from someone who said nary a word nor cracked the tiniest smile--or any sort of expression--the entire time she was waiting on me. She made me feel like I was back in middle school getting the silent, "you're invisible to me" treatment from someone I had made mad.
Oh no, here comes that strange guy with the long goatee molded into a hook who seems to think we are friends. Maybe if I look really intent on what I'm doing, like it's something important instead of this silly, pointless blog post, he will pass on by . . . .
I miss my father and my father-in-law.
This quiet time has been good, but it will also be good to get home. I just wish I could spend tomorrow catching up on all the laundry and shopping that have gone undone the last four days and doing a little schoolwork instead of trying to figure out how to do all of those things PLUS. . .
take my son to the orthodontist,
take my other two children to their afternoon classes,
play for a junior high choir practice,
rehearse for 2-1/2 hours with junior high string players that I will be acommpanying in recital Thursday night, and
practice the music for aforementioned rehearsal.
On second thought, I think I'm cancelling "school" and calling a "take your children to work" day. And maybe a "be kind to a middle-aged person" day. And maybe even an "improve your environment" and "community service" day. Isn't it great that "help your mother" can cover so many bases? :-)
P.S. For those who may be wondering, Trevor got 4 out of 7 points in the Under 2300 division of the Chicago Open--a very strong showing. Now for some bedtime snuggles with Evan. Goodnight, all!