Also, washing dishes is so last year.

The past couple of weeks has been a blur.

Kind of a purple blur, if you know what I mean.  If you don’t, well.  I don’t have words eloquent enough to explain it to you.  She does, though.

As the days pass I’m learning lessons about love, loss, friendship, and allowing myself to just let go and be led (by what, I’m not entirely sure – my heart, mind, conscience, Brigade of Righteous Gnomes?) to do what seems right.

Not waiting for a permission slip to do good, or a forgiveness for past good that should have been done elsewhere, but was not.  Not overly worried about my rightful place or whatever.  Just letting myself be led by whatever the heck the thingie is that’s leading me.

Wow, that is so clearly stated!

So much of my life I’ve looked back over my shoulder half the time and the other half, I’ve spent worrying about every little detail of what I should be doing.

Just doing that living and growing thing for now.  Feeling maybe too much and acting perhaps with too much emotion. (Which is really not unlike me at all, anyway. Big Ball of Emotions, FTW!)

I tend to quite regularly rely on a personal shtick of humorous complaining.

Lately, nothing I want to complain about seems worth the energy by the time the breath hits my lips.

Energy is much better spent elsewhere.

And I am so not talking about the laundry.

And so lately, I’ve: Listed Walks, Walked in Maddie’s Honor, Pressed Pretty Purple Paper, Talked to Mah Beloved Crackah Beeshes, Held My Loved Ones Closer.

Clean/Unwrinkled clothing is SO overrated.

(And just for the record so are mopped floors.)

Reasons why today was good… ?

[written Friday night, amidst sweltering heat, I might add]

Today was good. We
went to the zoo and that was
quite a lot of fun.

Braden was cute all
day long, as is usual.
He brings me such joy.

Um, dinner was good.
Yeah, it was yummy. Sketti.
Yeah, dinner was good.

Oh, who the hell am
I kidding?! Being positive
is not my best trait!

I need to complain!
UPSTAIRS A/C EFFING DIED!
*pulling out my hair*

Why upstairs? Huh? Why?
UPSTAIRS! Where the heat rises!
Why not downstairs, HUH?

Eighty-Seven – not
an acceptable number
of degrees inside.

I stand firm on this.
So does Braden. His screams at
bedtime confirm it.

Who can sleep like this?
And how can I possibly
Plurk well in this heat!?

Oh well. Off now to
dip my BEWBS in ice water.
Can’t let them suffer.

 

 

{ Oh yeah, don’t forget
to go vote for BEWBS and PECS!
The Rack begs you to! }