Sometimes you lie down in your five year-old's room at bedtime and then three hours go by. Then you awaken, hot and resentful, a possible crick in your neck. Yes, a "crick." Do you suffer from these or is it a Southern malady? C-R-I-C-K. So I got me a big ol' crick in my neck and I'm lying there out of sorts and then the knowledge that I have to blog pulls me to alertness, gets me to my feet, and brings me in here to you, Reader.
I was dreaming that Matt put all the beds in the house on the living room floor, and we hosted a wrestling tournament called the Mattress Open. True dream.
In real life I would push for it to be a bit more Mattress Invitational.
Earlier, Pretty Neighbor asked me what I'd been up to today and I could not give a satisfactory answer. I do know that I went to her house for our twenty-five minute workout and it took two-and-a-half hours. First we had our preliminary chatting, which is tinged with procrastination. Then our combined five children, who are all in the house, needed to seek our attention for various things. Then we actually worked out. Then we drank a beer and had postliminary chat while it got dark. Some days that twenty-five minute workout can take as little as thirty five minutes to complete, but other days, we need the long form. I think everything in my day must have been similarly time-inflated.
She is farther along in Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet than I am, and she is not finding it so execrable, so I recommitted to finishing it.
The news of the evening was that Laura has been cast as Jacob Marley in the 5th grade performance of A Christmas Carol. This is somehow hilarious to Matt and me, and Laura is tickled. She feels that finding the exact right piece of chain will help her get to the emotional core of the character, and her "Scroooooge!" is really something to hear. Think of a pretend ghost from Scooby Doo, one unmasked by Shaggy and Velma at the end of the episode. Got it? You're there.
She wears the chains she forged in life.
For supper, I'd made a split pea soup that only Matt and I liked. Hank asked if it was "frog toes boiled in frog juice."
Somebody must have been boiled in brat juice.
Maybe I will be back tomorrow with something, anything, to say. Please continue to rock onward.