1. The fatigue continues. Fatigue and restlessness. Witness the change (yet again!) in background color. I found the other one tasteful, but depressing. It's only a matter of time before I run out of options and find myself on my knees and beating with my fists against the front door of Typepad or Wordpress and begging for someone to build me a blog that fits my creative (and mercurial) needs. But that means I have to learn some new stuff and....well...does anyone really learn anything well in the summer? How smart to you have to be to work either of these two kinds of blog providers? It's not like I'm fluent in HTML or anything, though it's rather like living in a foreign country and knowing a few crucial phrases (such as "Where is the bathroom?") that get you through the day. I hate Blogger, but I know where the bathroom is, so to speak, and I'm uneasy about change.
2. All the men of Half House are gone. The two oldest boys are working as staffers at Boy Scout camp and Mr. Half and the youngest are now gone for our troop's week of "The Big Adventure", the other name for Worth Ranch
. All of them are waking up to this every morning..lucky dogs.
So...things are quiet and I'm trying to get back into the mode where I look out for myself and no one else. It's a skill that has gotten quite rusty in the last 17 years. Living here and slowing my pace and doing what I want to do (something else that hardly ever happens) is sort of like being single and living alone again. Except I have none of the obvious benefits of being single. After all these years of being a SAHM, one of the biggest blows to my ego (and there have been a few) has been the fact that I no longer contribute a significant amount of money to the family coffers. I was the person whose salary literally bought our first house, yet I've never been able to reconcile making such a pittance in the free-lance world...or--like now--making no money at all while trying to tend to junk here at Half House. I can pretend that this is "our money", but I'm never able to let myself forget that I didn't really earn it myself. And I really, really hate it. I know SAHM's contribute in ways that can never be adequately represented by a dollar figure (though Oprah's salary comes to mind), but if society really thought it was all that special and praiseworthy--other than Mother's Day--you'd see a line of men wanting to do it. And some do (See Cynical Dad), though I'd like to see more. Anyway....blah, blah, blah.
I went to the bookstore last night and then hit Chipotle for my crack-infused (Why else do we love it so??) Burrito Bol. While perusing the movie aisle, a man spied my hiking boots (I had only recently returned from dropping everyone off at camp) and struck up a conversation wherein it became eventually obvious (after 10 or so minutes where he kept asking me questions about random stuff) that the guy was...uh...flirting with me. It's so hard to tell these days and I'm way out of practice. I wasn't insulted, but I wasn't interested, either. Mostly, I was just...kind of stunned that any guy (other than some male senior citizen to whom I still appear relatively youthful) would see me in any way other than a mother. And in this case...a sweaty mother.
I ended up buying a book by Ayun Halliday
("Dirty Sugar Cookies") whose link is on my blogroll as well as the movie, "The Nun's Story" with the ever-wonderful Audrey Hepburn and Peter Finch. And when I say Peter Finch, I mean the Peter Finch who was hot and sex-xay before he blew up into an old-but-brilliant toad whose last role in "Network" ("I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!"
) encouraged angry people everywhere to throw their television sets out of an open window. If you chance to meet either of my two sisters, they can tell you that I reference the Archangel from this movie all of the time. I'm not going to spoil the plot for you, but Archangel is a metaphor for ALMOST EVERYTHING in my life. That is all.
Although "The Nun's Story" --the title alone--would be a good way to describe my life right now. **sigh**
3. Yes I know that it's wrong to end a sentence or phrase in a preposition (See blog title), and it's especially dumb for a former English teacher. Having said that, I will say that I'm in Texas and it's really hot. Or...as Nilbo would say..."HAWT". I'm opening my car doors with potholders and the temp inside says 102. My brain is melting.
4. I got up early and went to yoga. Made deposits and both banks and mailed some letters. I've got some art project prototypes to make, but first I'm headed out to run. I try to listen to satellite radio and stay away from the stations which might discuss in any way the Maverick's recent and devastating 1-point loss to the Miami Heat. I still love me some Dirk Nowotzki.
5. So where's everyone else? Are you packing? Moving? On vacation? Are you out by the pool reading a trashy novel and working on your tan? Summer makes me very reflective and today's no exception. It makes me think about all the summer jobs I had as a teenager. What's the best summer job you ever had? I'll start. Six Flag Over Texas. Yes, it was 112 in the park and crowded. People asked stupid questions. Long hours and little pay (hmmm...kinda like my life now). But the community of friends and potential hook-ups with the opposite sex grew exponentially every day. And I learned some practical work skills, believe it or not.So....tell me about yours.
I'll be commenting on your blogs later tonight.