About Me

My photo


Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Wednesday, March 02, 2016

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Goal Check

Since I made the rash announcement that I'd be gathering and purging more items in my house and writing up three articles for September's blog tour in February, I should go ahead and fess up. 

Both goals met. Seriously.
I packed up 5 more bags and boxes combo of stuff. Granted, two boxes were the encyclopedia set we've owned since approximately 1994. I almost kept it because I'm sure history has been rewritten half a dozen times since then, but then decided if I hadn't touched them in, literally, seven years (and that was to move them to where they were until yesterday) I wasn't going to be needing to brush up on history. Real or imagined. 

I did get the three articles written, too. I've got to keep going on both. 

Violin. Uhhhh. Let's not talk about it. 

Of note. Last night it was me alone vs four grandchildren. 

Apparently, there is a grandmother Murphy's Law. It states: "If you are in your unfamiliar territory of your adult child's home, it is a guarantee that something strange will happen." Last night the kids managed to lock one of the bedroom doors. No one was left shrieking inside, nor did a dog slip in to get trapped overnight. This door actually had a keyed lock and bobby pins and sharp knives don't work so well. I gave up in defeat and put the bed-less child in the parent room to sleep (yeah, that's another Murphy's law..."you can put the child to bed but good luck making that stick" the chorus of giggles and shushing was deafening). 

My daughter found the key after I left with my tail tucked. She no doubt got a much better night's sleep than with a seven year old kicking her in the head. I slept like a baby. 

Goal.

Violin.

Three more articles. Okay. Four.

Three more bags of stuff. Yikes. That means dust bunnies. And other unpleasantness. 

No comments: